(A/N: Just putting this up to test the response. SO, I plan to include characters from other anime and movies in this story. Honestly, Gege wasted JJK's potential. Sure, he made it fast-paced(and I absolutely loved it), but imagine if JJK had the kind of world-building One Piece has. Since the original barely explores its world, and because I personally dislike most OCs in fanfics (with a few exceptions), I decided to bring in characters from other series instead.
For example, I plan to include Aizen and Madara. They won't just be pulled straight from their original worlds. Here, they'll have backstories rooted in the JJK setting that shaped their personalities and goals. And seriously, aren't you hyped to see what their cursed techniques and domain expansions will look like? Because I sure am! Just imagine Jin fighting Aizen and Madara.
Also, feel free to recommend more characters you'd like to see appear. I promise every fan-favorite will play a meaningful role.
On top of that, there will also be elements of business- and kingdom-building. The story won't just stick to cursed energy and the small world around it. I'll explore how it impacts politics, global governments, and more. Think of it as an OP story with plenty of slice-of-life moments too. Yes, building a MEGA international conglomerate is absolutely on the to-do list!)
The blue light of the monitor was the only thing illuminating the room where empty energy drink cans and discarded snack wrappers littered the floor. My fingers flew across the keyboard, my heart full of righteous, incandescent fury. On the screen, in a Discord server named "Jujutsu Saltshakers," a user named 'HeianEraGlazer' was spouting the most egregious, brain-dead take I had ever witnessed.
HeianEraGlazer: Bro, you're just not reading right. Sukuna's adaptation isn't an asspull. Mahoraga showed the concept, Sukuna, being the pinnacle of Jujutsu, simply understood and applied it. It's peak writing.
I cracked my knuckles. This was it. The hill I would die on. Metaphorically, of course.
FraudWatch_01: PEAK WRITING? HeianEraGlazer, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Your brain has been smooth-rimmed by Gege's glazing. He went from "Dismantle" to "I can now cut the abstract concept of the world itself." That's not a display of talent, THAT'S the author doing an ASSPULL! His technique is Dismantle NOT Copy, you fucking retard!
HeianEraGlazer: Alright, let's agree to disagree. But you should at least agree that the new JJK: Modulo story is pretty fire.
FraudWatch_01: Don't even get me started on that! The "King of Aliens" Simurian is ALREADY A FRAUD! He waited for the Top 4 to die to pop on their grandkids! THE FRAUDULENCE IS CONTAGIOUS!
I was shaking. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal. The sheer, unadulterated disrespect for narrative consistency and the dick-eating of Gege when the new series had yet to prove itself was physically painful.
HeianEraGlazer: Cope. Seethe. Mald. The Strongest recognizes The Strongest. You're just a hater.
A red haze descended over my vision. Cope? Seethe? This wasn't about hate. This was about principle. Though I am a hater, but just cause I am a hater doesn't mean I don't have a principle.
This was about the sanctity of power scaling! This was about the author's blatant, unashamed favoritism for his pet villain!
I took a deep, shuddering breath, my chest tight. I began to type my magnum opus, my final, devastating rebuttal that would end this debate for all time.
But a sudden pain overwhelmed me. The pain was an atomic bomb detonating in my chest. White. Hot. Agony. My vision tunneled, the words on the screen blurring into meaningless pixels. My hand, clutching my chest, slid off and slammed onto the keyboard.
FraudWatch_01: fjiasojfaoij3290jfdsa0j!!!!
A final, pathetic shitpost. My epitaph.
I gasped, a wet, pathetic sound, and slid from my chair onto the cold, crumb-strewn floor. The last thing I saw was the glow of my monitor, the text from 'HeianEraGlazer' popping up, no doubt some smug, victorious reply.
Darkness swallowed me. The argument was over.
...
Then, there was light. But not a light you see with eyes. It was a light you comprehended.
I was… nowhere. And everywhere. There was no body, no floor, no Discord notifications. There was only a presence, vast, amused, and utterly incomprehensible.
"A heart stroke. Quite the mundane end for a passion so… intense," a voice said. It wasn't a sound. It was meaning directly implanted into my being. "And over something so trivial. A fictional narrative. Amusing."
I tried to form a thought, a question, a curse. All that came out was a wave of pure, undiluted indignation.
Trivial?! That wasn't trivial! That was—
"Peace," the presence: ROB, my mind supplied, a term I knew from a thousand shitty web novels, said, its amusement growing. "Your fervor is noted. It is… refreshing. A soul that burns so brightly over such things is rare. I offer you a choice. True oblivion, or a chance. A reincarnation into the world that so consumed your final moments. With wishes."
The concept was laid bare before me. Five. Five wishes. No monkey's paw twists. The entity was bored, and my rage was a curious novelty.
My consciousness, stripped of everything but my essence and my memories, focused. This was it. No more shitposting from the sidelines.
"Wish One", I said, the force of my will absolute. "I keep these memories. All of them. Every panel, every chapter, every stupid online argument. I will not go into that world ignorant."
"A given, really. State your wishes."
This was where the plan formed. The ultimate counter-glaze. The anti-fraud measure. I didn't need a specific technique. I didn't need to be a clone or a secret heir. I needed the one thing that truly mattered, the thing Sukuna supposedly had but was given by the author instead.
"Wish One. I wish for talent. Not just any talent. I wish for a transcendent, god-like talent for everything including but not limited to Jujutsu Sorcery. The ability to perceive, comprehend, deconstruct, and master any and all aspects of Cursed Energy and Cursed Techniques upon witnessing them."
The presence hummed, intrigued. "An interesting choice. Not power, but the potential to acquire and perfect any power. Grant—"
"Wish Two," I interrupted. "I wish for more of that. I wish for a transcendent, god-like talent for everything including but not limited to hand-to-hand combat and tactical adaptation. The talent to apply my knowledge perfectly in any combat scenario."
"…Double downing on talent. You seek to become a paragon of skill."
"Wish Three," I pressed, the image of that damn Sukuna's face flashing in my mind. "I wish for even more! I wish for a transcendent, god-like talent for everything including but not limited to psychological warfare and verbal combat. The talent to always know the perfect, most devastating thing to say to enrage, demoralize, and break my opponent's spirit."
There was a moment of silence that felt like laughter. "Three wishes for talent. You have built the ultimate foundation. What is your Fourth? Immense Cursed Energy? A specific technique?"
I had it all planned out. The hate had to be authentic. It had to be personal.
"Wish Four. I wish to be reincarnated as Jin Itadori, the twin of Sukuna who had reincarnated in modern times, the one who is supposed to go on to become Yuji Itadori's father. Change history if I'm not already the older twin to make me one."
The ROB's laughter shook the void. "In all of my infinitely long life I have not had the pleasure to feast my eyes on such a...HATER. You wished to become his older brother just to make the hate more personal?! I, Maximum Decimus Celestious, declare you the the greatest hater of them all. Now! A single wish remains, hater! WHAT will it be?!"
"Stuff me."
"???"
"Pack every single ounce of Cursed Energy you can into this new vessel without making it immediately explode. I want a bottomless well. A ocean of power. I'll use the talent to learn how to use it. Make me a goddamn nuclear reactor."
The presence roared with laughter. "Jin Itadori! Deliciously petty. To be born into the heart of the story, with a name that echoes the past. To have all the talent in the world and the energy to fuel it. Very well. The contract is sealed. Go forth, little vessel of spite. Break that world up for my amusement."
There was no transition. One moment I was a consciousness floating in the void, and the next I was drowning in sensation. Pressure. Warmth. A rhythmic, booming sound that was not my own.
And a voice, old and weary, but filled with a strange, defiant pride.
"…A boy."
A softer voice, a woman's, exhausted. "Does he look good?"
"He looks strong," the old man's voice said, closer now. I was lifted. "This one… he's got a look in his eyes. Like he's already judging me. Jin. I'll call you Jin."
The foundation of the world's power scaling trembled. The King of Curses would soon meet his older brother. The Auditor of Fraud.