I stared.

  He smiled.

  Maybe he was just a weirdo in cosplay, but the presence he gave off… wasn’t fake.

  I narrowed my eyes. “...Yeah, my grandfather’s in surgery. High risk.”

  “You’re lying,” he said instantly.

  I flinched. “How the hell—?”

  He just tilted his head, smirk unchanging. There was no malice—just overwhelming awareness.

  So I cracked. “Fine. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here. I was walking out of college one second, and then bam, I’m in this hospital being told I’m a sixteen-year-old named—”

  The nurse came back, clipboard heavy in her hands.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “He didn’t make it.”

  She handed me a stack of papers. At the top: Death Certificate.

  I signed where she pointed. Then, on the last page, I saw it.

  Name of living relatives: Yuji Itadori, Age: 16, Occupation: Student at New Hope High School.

  Yuji. Freaking. Itadori.

  “This is not how Jujutsu Kaisen starts,” I muttered.

  “Don’t memorize your address,” Gojo said beside me, casually reading over my shoulder.

  “What?”

  “You won’t need it here.”

  I blinked. But something inside me just… gave up resisting. I rolled with it.

  He offered me a ride. I got in.

  We pulled up to what was apparently my house.

  “You never introduced yourself, Mystery Man,” I said. “But if I had to guess… Satoru Gojo?”

  “Correct,” he said with a smirk.

  I opened the door. “Got extra beds?”

  “Probably,” I shrugged.

  We walked inside. One bed. One small couch.

  I blinked, turned around—

  Gojo was already snoring.

  On the bed.

  Like he owned the place.

  I sighed, dropped onto the couch, and stared at the ceiling.

  “Goddammit, Truck-kun.”

  ---