After a tragic encounter with robbers, David, a devoted single father, finds himself unexpectedly transported into Jujutsu Kaisen. Now inhabiting the role of Seijuro Gojo-the mysterious, previously unmentioned father of Satoru Gojo-David possesses c...
Seijuro's eyes fluttered open. His vision was hazy, blurring light and shapes until it began to stabilize. As his focus sharpened, he froze in place.
What greeted him wasn't the ruined street he remembered or the faces of Kaori and Jin. Instead, he saw an infinite expanse of space—a boundless, star-filled void where celestial bodies drifted in silence.
Planets rotated lazily in the distance, some glowing with radiant light while others were shrouded in shadow. Surrounding him were portals, each like shimmering, liquid mirrors, displaying moving images of unfamiliar worlds and events.
"Just where am I?" Seijuro muttered, his voice barely audible against the overwhelming stillness of the cosmic plane.
His heart raced. The last thing he remembered was fighting Mahito. How did he end up here?
"Good day, Seijuro Gojo."
The deep, commanding voice jolted him. Seijuro spun around instinctively, his stance defensive, his crimson eyes narrowing.
An elderly man sat upon a grand, imposing throne made of an intricate mesh of glowing blue crystals and gold. His very presence demanded attention. His sharp, regal features—deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, and an angular jawline—were accented by his striking, silver hair that flowed like a river of light.
Though old, he emanated an undeniable power as though time had only honed his strength. His attire was equally commanding: a black, high-collared robe with intricate red and gold embroidery that seemed to shimmer as though alive.
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"Who?" Seijuro muttered, his confusion deepening as he tensed further.
The old man's lips curled into a faint smirk, his sharp gaze piercing through Seijuro as if he were a mere speck in the cosmos.
"Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg," the man said, his voice resonating with an air of authority and mystery. "Nice to meet you, Type Earth."
Seijuro raised an eyebrow, his confusion mounting. "Type...Earth?"
The man's smirk widened, his amusement evident. "Nothing you need to dwell on. Not yet. We're running out of time, so let me make this brief."
Seijuro clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. The cryptic words and the surreal environment made him feel like he was grasping at straws.
"What are you talking about? Who are you really, and what is this place?" Seijuro asked.
Ignoring Seijuro's outburst, Zelretch leaned forward, his expression serious now. "Remember this, Seijuro Gojo: Earth is your domain. It bends to your will. Manipulate it. Command it. Understand it. That power will be your greatest weapon and, perhaps, curse."
Seijuro's jaw tightened, his crimson eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you talking about? How do I—"
Zelretch raised a hand, silencing him with a simple gesture. "You'll learn. For now, resist your impulses. The ones that call for destruction. Resist them, especially when blood is spilled, or you'll lose yourself."
