I have two writing styles I'm working on. One is the style I write fights its ive always done, descriptive, but I've also come to realize simple is good too, so I will be trying both styles in this Fanfic. Previous works told me to expand on this type of writing. So here I am, when you see this, I will already be at 50 or so chapters, and Mass released would be out , but I will just say I hope you enjoy, anyway, take care.
I dropped out of high school and spent twenty years with a sword in my hand. Life didn't leave room for hobbies.
The closest I got was mobile games. RPGs with MMO features.
I had a knack for katanas.
There wasn't much I couldn't cut, or couldn't hit. Of course, that didn't come for free—I worked until my hands blistered and calloused.
Before I knew it, they called me «The Drunken Sword Saint» at the dojo.
I never stayed anywhere more than three years. I helped revive businesses on the brink of collapse. My reputation grew.
People came from across the country for my sword. Mafia. Gangs.
They made offers. I turned them down without a second thought.
I'd spent my life slicing fish. They wanted me to slice people? No amount of money was worth that.
I'm rambling.
If you know this kind of story, you've already guessed what happened.
That's right.
I became a character in an anime.
An anime I never finished.
One with brutal, beautiful fights.
And now, here I am—blessed by fate.
It's been almost a year since I was thrown into the anime.
'Jujutsu Kaisen.'
A world of cursed energy and sorcerers.
Where did I land?
***
It was in the middle of a side story—one never meant for the screen.
But let me be clear: I didn't become a character. I became someone inside the anime.
A background character. Worse than an NPC. That's my standing.
In this world, my name is Zenin Norikashimo.
Norikashimo: the burden one carries.
A name that sounds like a curse. A tragedy waiting to happen.
I wanted to throw it away the moment I heard it. Delete it like a bad username. But in this world, my parents named me. I had to keep it.
Here, they believe the more sorrowful your name, the more luck and protection it brings.
…I want to change it. But minors need a guardian's permission.
So I'm stuck with this miserable name until I'm an adult.
Aside from the name, life was bearable.
We weren't rich, but we didn't lack. And Jujutsu Kaisen was set in Japan. That narrowed the gap between my old world and this one.
The geography was almost identical. Only slight differences.
Thanks to that, I could live as a teenager born with a spoon in his mouth.
Back on Earth, my family went bankrupt in high school. I spent my youth washing dishes in a restaurant. Just eating hot stew and rice three times a day felt like a blessing.
A year passed. I was starting to forget this was a game. Then an envelope arrived, as if to remind me: "Hey, this isn't real…"
An acceptance letter from True Cross Academy.
===
Acceptance Letter Exam Number: 453-2BA
Full Name: Zenin Norikashimo
The individual mentioned above has been admitted to True Cross Academy for the year 2015.
Please report on the following day: Date: April 17, 2015, at 09:00 Location: True Cross Academy Items: Your own weapons and belongings
===
"Oh my God! Look at this, honey!"
"We're so proud of you, son!"
My parents celebrated like I'd won a lottery. It was embarrassing.
"…Huff."
I let out a long sigh. As the enrollment day neared, my face was etched with concern.
My modest plan—a quiet life in a lower-middle-class family—was shattered.
Damn it.
My new life of despair was approaching. My family wasn't known. We were modest. But we had one innate technique passed down.
I just wanted to practice and live peacefully, strong enough to defend myself.
'But now I'm entering True Cross Academy…'
'Wait… what is True Cross Academy again?'
You might wonder about my innate technique. Blood Manipulation? Limitless? No—I didn't get those.
I held a coin in my hand. Using my innate technique, the coin slowly turned a clear, translucent white. Yellow streaks of lightning danced across its surface.
Shkrit—
The coin shattered as it charred. The iron inside became so brittle that, instead of turning to dust, it broke apart completely.
Crack!!
What remained was a fragment of white lightning clinging to the frozen coin.
[Heavenly Disaster: Yin Lightning]
The name sounded dramatic—like something from a Chinese light novel.
But in reality… it was just me and my cursed energy.
This Heavenly Disaster: Yin Lightning worked on the moisture in the air. There was always moisture in the atmosphere, clinging together in molecules that could be manipulated into forming water—H₂O clusters drifting around me.
When those molecules slowed down enough, they froze.
That was the core.
My cursed technique attached a passive layer of lightning onto the moisture around me. The spark acted as the trigger—forcing the H₂O molecules to slow, cool, and lock into ice, all while the lightning stayed fused inside.
The result?
Ice formed from the air itself—but every piece had lightning running through it. Frozen moisture shaped by cursed energy, electrified from the inside out.
The issue was, if I tried using this on myself, it wouldn't just fry me.
The moisture in my body—blood, sweat, even the thin layer of water inside my cells—would react the same way. Yin Lightning would cling to it, slow it, freeze it, and then send current ripping through the ice.
I would turn into a thawing fish.
It was almost impossible to separate the lightning from the ice. That was the foundation—captured lightning sealed inside frozen moisture. A rare, unstable phenomenon that barely obeyed me.
Trying to use the lightning without the ice was worse.
It consumed an incredible amount of cursed energy because I had to break the fundamental structure:
Form the ice.
Dismantle the ice while keeping the lightning intact.
Redirect the exposed lightning into a target.
Each step fought against the others.
If the ice shattered too early, the lightning would discharge randomly.
If the lightning overloaded, the ice exploded outward like a javelin.
If I used too much cursed energy, my body's own moisture began to freeze first.
If I used too little, the lightning slipped free and electrocuted everything around me.
Yin Lightning required perfect balance—moisture, temperature, cursed energy output, and nerve control all at once.
A single mistake turned the technique from a weapon…
…into a disaster for me instead of the enemy.
But one might wonder about my family. Even though we weren't known, there was a major problem. My father's side… the blood I inherited… was that of the Zenin clan.
And I didn't just inherit their blood. For some reason, I possessed two techniques.
[Heavenly Disaster: Yin Lightning] and [The Ten Shadows]
But my version of the Ten Shadows didn't work normally. Maybe it was the way I was reborn. Because who is born with two insanely overpowered abilities?
'I should hide the fact that I possess the Ten Shadows. I don't want to encroach upon Megumi's standing. I want to live peacefully.'
I pondered my new abilities as I walked to school.
Today was my first day of normal high school life. For the next three years, things would stay relatively peaceful. The enrollment period for Jujutsu High would commence in 2015, but it was currently 2011.
'Wait… were we always this rich?'
'Isn't this the school known for its top-class wealthy students?'
True Cross Academy—
The school for the rich, the best of the best.
The place to make connections and learn valuable professions.
This was the place to be.
***
"Hey, did you hear? We're getting a transfer student."
"Yeah, and I heard he's handsome."
The whispers floated from the window to my desk.
I didn't react.
Kamiki Izumo.
Posture straight. Uniform perfect. A quiet life.
That was the plan.
A transfer student?
My schedule had no room for variables.
BANG!
The classroom door slammed against the wall.
The entire class flinched as one.
The teacher hurried in, looking flustered.
Behind him—
A boy.
His hair caught the light. Gold. Not blonde. Gold.
The same uniform as everyone else, but different.
The blazer fit perfectly. The tie was sharp. Shoes polished to a mirror finish.
He stood in the doorway.
Silence fell.
…Charming?
The thought came unbidden.
I pressed my tongue against my teeth. Focus.
***
First day. True Cross Academy.
The entrance hall was all sharp angles and echoing footsteps.
Smelled like cleaner and new books.
A woman approached. Movements precise. Smile professional.
"Norikashimo-san?"
"Yes."
A nod. "Follow me."
She led me down a quiet hall. At a classroom door, she handed me a schedule.
SHHK—
The door slid open.
Noise hit me first. Then the sight.
Girls.
Rows of them. An ocean of navy skirts and white collars.
A handful of boys scattered like afterthoughts.
My stomach tightened. This was its own kind of battlefield.
I was guided to the front. Turned to face the class.
Dozens of eyes watched. Curious. Assessing. Bored.
My gaze swept the room. Stopped.
Her.
Purple hair, dark in the classroom shadows.
Skin like porcelain.
Eyes… pink. Actually pink.
I'd never seen that before.
But that wasn't what caught me.
It was the dog.
A tiny Pomeranian with pink-tipped ears, a matching ribbon around its neck.
It pressed against her ankle, weaving between her polished shoes.
Its paws made no sound.
No one else looked at it.
The teacher didn't comment.
Not a single reaction.
A cold feeling pricked my spine.
The kind you get near a live wire.
Just me, then.
The woman beside me spoke. "This is our new transfer student. Introduce yourself."
Every human eye fixed on me.
And one pair of small, dark spirit eyes.
"My name is Norikashimo Zenin," I said. The words felt too loud. "I like traveling. Testing limits. Rock climbing."
"Take the seat next to Kamiki-san."
Kamiki-san? I hesitated.
"Which one…?"
"By the window in back."
Of course.
I walked down the aisle. The Pomeranian's head turned, tracking me.
I slid into the seat beside her.
The air around her felt… wrong.
Not the heavy grease of curse energy. Something else.
Lighter. Sharper. Like ozone after lightning, but cold.
Hers? Or the thing's?
My eyes kept drifting toward her. Against my will.
Quick glances. Analyzing.
Wrong energy. Wrong spirit. Wrong her.|
***
Why does he keep looking?
I, Izumo Kamiki, was certain we'd never met.
Yet his attention was constant. Not staring. Just… measuring.
Looking for something only he could see.
It was disruptive. A flaw in the day's order.
Should I say something?
No. He was the variable. The burden was his.
***
The bell shrieked. The room exploded into motion.
My mind held one thought: Not normal.
That energy wasn't jujutsu. Something else entirely.
Since my world had cracked open a month ago, I'd learned to catalog threats.
This Girl was an unknown.
Unknowns were dangerous.
Follow her.
Decision made. Execution would be tricky.
The hallway was a river of bodies after class.
I moved with the current, keeping a fixed point: that purple hair.
She glided through the crowd. Students parted without noticing.
The spirit bobbed in her wake, a splash of wrong color.
Definitely not normal.
I matched her pace, using taller students as shields.
My own cursed energy buzzed beneath my skin. Restless.
She turned into the older east wing.
The crowd thinned. Noise faded to echoes.
My footsteps sounded too loud. I hung back.
She walked with purpose. Never glancing back.
She stopped.
I froze, pressing against cold lockers.
My heart thumped once, hard.
She checked her phone. Continued walking.
I released a slow breath.
Deeper into the wing. Disused classrooms. Storage closets.
Dust in the air.
She stopped at a plain wooden door. No window. No sign.
Her head turned left. Right.
I pulled back.
Did she see?
Silence.
Then—creeak.
A pause.
Click.
I waited. Counted heartbeats. Thirty.
Nothing.
I edged out. Moved down the deserted hall.
Each step echoed.
Reached the door. Leaned close. Ear to wood.
Silence.
My hand hovered over the handle.
Then—I felt it.
A presence. Solid. Heavy.
It pressed between my shoulder blades—an icy warning snaking down my spine.
Not from the room.
From behind me.
Of course.
I turned. Slow.
Kamiki Izumo stood ten feet away.
Pink eyes fixed on me. No surprise. No curiosity.
Flat, analytical coldness.
The Pomeranian sat at her feet, head cocked.
She didn't look caught. She looked confirmed.
The empty hall felt vast. Silence thick between us.
Her lips parted.
"Why were you following me?"