[Welcome to the Jujutsu World, Host Yasui.
Wishing you…
a fun time!]
When the final syllable of that mechanical voice faded from his mind, Yasui was leaning on the recliner, using his uninjured hand to count the wooden beams on the ceiling.
“A fun time?” he repeated, suddenly laughing.
That smile hung upon his excessively handsome face, gorgeously radiant to the point of looking ominous.
His death in his previous life had been way too “creative”—a damned rotten banana, a free fall.
A magnificent mathematical genius whose problem-solving logic could wrap around the earth three times was ultimately delivered to another world by organic matter undergoing natural recycling.
“Your welcome message,”
Yasui flipped off the empty air, his pale fingertips displaying faintly visible veins.
“How the hell is it any different from a funeral home saying ‘Rest in peace’?”
[There’s a big difference~]
The system’s voice remained calm and unruffled, yet somehow oozed a cheap, irritating flavor.
[‘Rest in peace’ is in the passive voice, while ‘have a fun time’ is in the active voice.
The system encourages the Host to exercise subjective initiative and create your own brilliant life in the Jujutsy World.]
“Shut up!
I have zero interest in taking a grammar lesson right now!”
[OK.]
Yasui stood up from the recliner.
The movement pulled at the wound on his left palm, and a sharp, piercing pain immediately shot up from beneath the gauze.
He hissed, cold sweat seeping from his forehead, yet he narrowed his eyes as if savoring the feeling.
It hurt.
Don’t get him wrong; he wasn’t a masochist, nor was he into the BDSM scene.
The five senses of this body had been magnified a hundred times, making the pain so vivid and three-dimensional, as if someone were holding a scalpel, peeling out every single one of his nerves, setting them under a spotlight to pluck repeatedly, and then finely mincing them like minced meat.
Yet the miraculous part was that he “couldn’t die.”
It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid of pain, but rather whenever the pain hit its absolute limit, an invisible wall would always drag his consciousness back from the brink of the abyss.
[Never Die from Pain]—this was probably the most generous feature this unscrupulous system had given him, or perhaps, the most malicious one.
Still, not bad at all~
The wooden window cracked open slightly, and the April spring breeze rushed into the room carrying the damp, distinct air of the southern water town, softly swaying his waist-length black hair.
Wrapped in that breeze was the scent of moss, river water, and the aroma of stewed meat from a distant household.
What should have been a comforting smell was now disassembled into countless fragments by his hundredfold-enhanced sense of smell.
He could smell that too much star anise had been put into the stewed meat, and he could smell the rusty tang hidden in the third layer of soil beneath the moss.
Wiping away the tears that sprang up from the sheer intensity of the pain, Yasui walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
The person in the mirror made him hold his breath once again.
Long black hair cascaded like a waterfall down to his waist, the tips curling slightly, tracing soft curves in the draft.
His eyes were a rare, deep purple.
Right in the center of his forehead sat a dot of vermilion, vividly striking to the point of being eerie, resembling some ancient seal, or perhaps a speck of merciful cinnabar between the brows of a deity—in reality, his mother had suffered a mental breakdown, jabbed around with a glass shard, and ended up sticking it right into his forehead.
It hurt quite a bit, but he hadn’t dodged.
Because before getting jabbed, his mother had hugged him.
A hug was far more precious than pain.
“Tsk,” Yasui raised his hand, his fingertips brushing past the eye corners of his reflection, “Same old story: I really am gorgeous.”
This face resembled his mother.
That crazy beauty who suddenly had a mental breakdown at twenty, bidding farewell to a normal life from then on, casually engaging in knife fights with her mentally ill husband, and occasionally choking her biological son’s neck to ask him what kind of creature he was.
In his past life, Yasui had inherited her IQ and…
to a certain extent, her beauty.
In his past life, he was 185 cm tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and a strikingly glamorous face, looking very much like his mother.
Of course, he was still strikingly glamorous now, just fifteen years old and not yet fully grown.
[Agreed with your assessment, Host.] The system offered its suck-up praise right on cue.
Yasui raised an eyebrow in satisfaction: “See?
There’s a reason why the emperor always needs a sweet-talking eunuch beside him.”
The system fell silent for two seconds.
[Host, the system has no biological gender, nor does it meet the conditions for castration.
If you require it, the system can simulate a eunuch’s tone: ‘Ooh~ Greetings to master, may you be blessed with good fortune~’]
Oh my, it even came with an accent.
Yasui accepted it casually.
“Sure thing~”
[I was just kidding…]
“Alright, though I still think having a eunuch beside the emperor is pretty great~”
Yasui turned around, flopped down onto the soft bed, and lay down lazily, the soft, expensive fabric rubbing against his hair.
“Let me see what missions there are.”
He propped up his head, the wooden bed creaking slightly from his movement.
[OK.]
The translucent, eerie-blue panel expanded once more, this time displaying several lines of glaring red text.
[Mission 1: Arrive in Japan]
[Points: 70]
[LanLi: Well, if anyone didn’t know, this guy is not in Japan.
He’s in the dragon country which yours truly has filtered to oblivion, for now let’s just think he’s a japanese who’s studying abroad and move on yea?
As for the feudal estate, well rich people do have one or two or (more) things like tha…
yup move on.]
[Mission 2: Join Jujutsu High]
[Points: 20]
[Mission 3: Become a Great Curse User]
[Points: 100]
[Long-term Mission: Make key characters feel pain]
[Points: 1–1000 (Sliding Scale)]
[Ultimate Mission: Hack each other to pieces with peak-form Sukuna and emerge victorious!
Good luck, Little Mango~]
[Reward: 99999]
Yasui stared at the panel, his finger unconsciously stroking his jawline.
That was his habit whenever he was thinking.
His brain began operating at extreme efficiency—70 points, 20 points, 100 points, 99999 points.
The numbers behind these represented the weighted values of risk factors and completion difficulty.
“Arrive in Japan, 70 points,” he muttered, “Because Japan’s Cursed Spirit density is number one in the world, combined with my spirit-magnet physique, the probability of dying instantly upon landing is…
tsk.
High risk, high reward, pretty sweet.”
“Join Jujutsu High, 20 points.
A threshold mission, which means as long as I can stand before them alive, it won’t be hard to complete.”
“Become a Curse User…” Yasui narrowed his eyes.
“100 points.
Curse Users are different from Jujutsu Sorcerers; the latter are civil servants, while the former are terrorists.
Going from white to black doubles the difficulty.
Plus, I’m just a chaos-seeking instigator, making it easy to get crushed casually.”
Yasui hunted around the bed for his phone and checked the time.
March 7, 2005.
Let’s see.
Gojo-sensei should be fifteen right now?
The Six Eyes—the Divine Child of the Gojo clan.
Arrogant, unrestrained, with an attitude of ‘throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one.’ He hasn’t entered Jujutsu High yet, nor has he been properly disciplined by Suguru Geto.
He has a bit of a sense of right and wrong, but apparently not much.
Going to mess with him would make it easy to get beaten to death.
Ah, Gojo-sensei probably wouldn’t beat him to death; he’d likely just casually kick him into a crippled state.
Tricky.
As for Suguru Geto, he’s arrogant and stubborn at his core, but personally quite polite and gentle.
As long as you don’t go out of your way to provoke him, he won’t come at you.
But making him feel pain…
yeah, he’d definitely kill me.
Shoko Ieiri possesses the Reverse Cursed Technique.
Her personality is somewhat mature, but she’s still in the youth of a fifteen-year-old.
Still, offending the doctor is pretty tricky.
Besides, I’m just a chaos-seeker~ Right now, I might not even be able to beat her in a fight.
And Toji Fushiguro…
ah…
forget it, I’d easily get turned into minced meat…
Masamichi Yaga…
Bullying an honest man sounds pretty great…
Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki…
they all seem to be born by now…
Bullying—err, teasing kids gives him zero psychological burden whatsoever.
His gaze landed on the bottommost reward with its terrifying numerical value.
99999 points.
[Ultimate Mission: Hack each other to pieces with peak-form Sukuna and emerge victorious!
Good luck, Little Mango~]
[Reward: 99999]
Yasui’s lips twitched: “Hack each other to pieces with peak-form Sukuna and win?
Did you eat too much shit, or are you just insane?”
[Apologies, Host, I’m not a freak who eats trash.]
“I don’t give a damn about what you eat,” Yasui sneered.
“Do you even know what peak-form Sukuna means?
He’s the absolute ceiling of Jujutsu Kaisen; even Satoru Gojo didn’t make Lord Sukuna go all out.
You’re asking a chaos-seeker with a starting Physical Resistance of 3, Speed of 2, and Cursed Energy of 0 to go chop it up with him?
And ‘Little Mango’?
Want me to end up like Hajime Kashimo?”
A certain mango: …
[Host, please trust the system’s vision.] The system’s voice suddenly took on a profound meaning.