Transmigrated As Satoru's Father

Author's Notes:

There would be a slight crossover with the Nasuverse. So, expect it.

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In an average home, a man with tan skin, black hair, and dark eyes lounged on his couch, scrolling through the latest chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen on his phone. Chapter 235: the relentless battle between Satoru Gojo and Sukuna, who now inhabited Megumi's body, alongside Mahoraga. He was deep in the fight's tension, but a slight smirk tugged at the corners of his lips—he wasn't reading this on any official site. Fun fact: it was pirated.

As he skimmed the pages, absorbing the explosive action and emotional turmoil, his thumb froze as he reached the climactic moment.

"Rest in peace... Gojo," he muttered, almost to himself, the words carrying a faint hint of regret.

With a sigh, he clicked his phone off, the dull screen reflecting his face.

Though he wouldn't say he was obsessed with Gojo, he liked him. His death hit harder than expected. Maybe it was the inevitable fall of a seemingly invincible character or the emptiness left by his absence.

Leaning back, the man let his mind drift, his thoughts wandering into the chaotic world of Jujutsu Kaisen. What if he had been part of that world? Just another nameless figure in the crowd or maybe a character on the fringes, watching from the sidelines as the sorcerers fought their battles. Sure, it was a dangerous world, but he figured he might be safe if he moved far enough from Japan.

But then, if he were there, could he just watch? No. Deep down, he knew he'd want to change things—fix the senseless tragedy. Geto's spiral into his racism era, Kenjaku's sick theft of his body, and Gojo's untimely end. He imagined helping Megumi hone his technique, giving him the edge to avoid becoming a "potential man" in the eyes of the fandom.

It was all just daydreaming, of course. A fleeting escape.

"Haha, imagine me in that world," he chuckled. "I'd probably drop dead when I saw a little curse shaped like a spider or cockroach."

—Bling!

The sudden ring of his phone broke the silence. He glanced at the screen and saw a new message from his daughter—a picture of her with friends, smiling and laughing.

He smiled softly, his mood lightening. She was his world. A single father raising a daughter who made him proud every day. They had each other, and though they weren't rich, their life was comfortable. Upper middle class, if you were to put a label on it.

His success at work, a high-ranking position in a well-established company, gave him financial stability, yet he preferred the simplicity of their modest house. Just him and his daughter—it was all they needed.

His gaze shifted to the nearby picture frame with a photo of him, his daughter, and his wife. His late wife. She had been the heart of their family, and even though she was gone, he liked to think she'd be proud of both of them. Of how they carried on, still happy, still holding each other up.

—Ring!

All of a sudden, his phone rang again. This time, it was a call from his best friend since middle school, Daniel. David answered, and Daniel's excited voice came through the speaker.

"David, have you seen chapter 235?!"

David couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, man, I saw it. Sad, right? Rest in peace, Gojo."

"Dude, it was unexpected but expected at the same time!" Daniel exclaimed, clearly caught in his usual mix of hype and analysis.

David raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? How can you say that?"

"Well, think about it," Daniel continued, his tone more thoughtful now. "Gojo's been set up as this untouchable, overpowered figure since day one, right? But that's the thing—characters like him, especially in Shonen, face a massive fall or become plot-breaking. Writers can't let someone that strong hang around forever without messing with the story's stakes."

David nodded slightly, letting the logic sink in. "So, you're saying he was too powerful to keep alive? His existence tipped the balance too much."

"Exactly," Daniel replied. "Narratively, someone like Gojo must either be taken down, or the story risks losing its tension. It's tragic, but it makes sense when you think about it. Plus, it opens up space for other characters to grow. If Gojo's still around, no one else gets their moment in the spotlight."

David leaned back into the couch. "I see your point. It makes sense when you put it that way... but didn't expect that death."

Daniel laughed. "Yeah, I'm still not over it. But hey, now we'll see what happens with everyone else—Megumi, Yuji. They've got a lot to carry now."

"They've got a lot to carry now, huh," David muttered.

Yuji Itadori, the main protagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen, came to mind. He was a kind-hearted teenager whose strength didn't lie in his physical abilities but in his unwavering compassion. Despite being thrown into the chaotic world of jujutsu sorcery, where death was always lurking, Yuji still clung to his moral compass. He fought to protect people, even though he knew the world was filled with curses, darkness, and impossible choices. His journey was self-sacrifice and growth, constantly wrestling with the burden of being Sukuna's vessel.

Yuji was a tragic figure in a way. He never asked for the power that forced him into the world of curses, yet he accepted it, bearing the weight of his fate with a quiet determination. He represented the fine line between power and humanity—always fighting, not just against curses, but against the fear of losing himself.

David's thoughts lingered on that for a moment. Yuji wasn't the kind of hero who sought glory. He was the type who tried to save everyone, even if it meant sacrificing his peace. In a way, it reminded David of his life—the quiet responsibilities and choices he made every day for his daughter.

"Is there something on your mind, David?" Daniel's voice snapped him back to reality.

David chuckled softly, his thoughts still half-drifting. "Well, I had this crazy idea... what if I reincarnated into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen? Hahaha."

"Oh?" Daniel's curiosity spiked. "Tell me about it!"

"Well..." David hesitated for a second, then gave in with a grin. "First off, I'd probably want to stay as far away from Japan as possible. The amount of danger that country sees? No thanks. But then again... knowing me, I'd get dragged into it somehow."

Daniel laughed on the other end of the line. "For sure. What would you do though? Try to stay out of the action?"

"I'd probably try to avoid the big battles, but let's be real—I'd want to change some things. I'd help out Megumi and make sure Yuji doesn't end up carrying so much guilt. Maybe give some minor characters a heads-up so they don't die in some random curse attack. You know, fix some of the plot holes or prevent the worst tragedies from happening."

Daniel hummed in agreement. "I like that. You'd be the behind-the-scenes fixer. The guy keeping the gears turning smoothly, huh?"

David smiled, imagining himself in that world. "Yeah, maybe. But then again, knowing my luck, I'd end up in a fight with some tiny, creepy curse and get taken out before I even did anything useful."

They both laughed, the thought oddly comforting despite the grim premise.

"What about you, Daniel?" David asked, curious. "What would you do if you were reincarnated into Jujutsu Kaisen?"

Daniel didn't hesitate. "I'd probably try to do what you're thinking—fix things from behind the scenes. But if some god gave me a condition, I'd want to be Satoru Gojo's father!"

David blinked, surprised. "His father? Why?"

Daniel laughed as if the answer was obvious. "Simple. I'd raise Satoru from the start. I'd give him a good upbringing and ensure he understands how to use his power responsibly. Sure, do what you'd do, but I'd also focus on helping the characters around him—like Junpei."

"Oh shit, Junpei!" David's eyes widened as the memory of the character resurfaced. "I forgot about him!"

Junpei Yoshino—David's mind quickly filled in the details. He had been an ordinary, lonely high schooler, a victim of bullying who became disillusioned with the world. In his brief arc, Junpei had fallen prey to the manipulations of Mahito, who used his anger and pain to lure him into the dark side of jujutsu. Junpei wasn't inherently evil, but life had dealt him such a terrible hand that he couldn't see any light. He just wanted to escape his suffering, and Mahito exploited that, transforming Junpei into a tool for his twisted purposes.

The tragedy of Junpei's character is how close he comes to redemption. Yuji had reached out to him and offered him a hand, and for a moment, it seemed like Junpei might choose a better path. But in a cruel twist, Junpei's fate was sealed when Mahito mutated his body into a grotesque, cursed form. His death had been one of the most heartbreaking moments in the series—a symbol of how dark the world of Jujutsu Kaisen could get.

David sighed, the weight of Junpei's tragic story settling over him. "Man... Junpei didn't deserve what happened to him. I'd want to change his fate, too. I'd try to stop Mahito before he got to Junpei if I were there. Give the kid a chance to live a normal life, or at least a better one."

Daniel's voice softened. "Yeah. He could've been saved. That was one of the moments in the show that hit me hard. If someone had been there for him earlier if he had more than Yuji offering him a way out..."

David nodded, his mind already spinning with possibilities. "I'd want to be the one there for him. Stop him before he falls too far. Help him see that the world isn't all bad."

"Exactly," Daniel agreed. "That's why I'd want to be Satoru's father. With his strength, he could've helped Junpei in a way no one else could. I'd ensure he used his power to save people like that."

David smiled, his mind lost in the hypothetical. "I like the way you think. Maybe we'd make a difference if we both reincarnated into that world."

—Crash!

The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed from the kitchen, startling David. His pulse quickened as he stood up, gripping his phone tightly.

"David, what's going on?!" Daniel's voice was anxious through the speaker.

"I think something—or someone—forced their way into my house," David muttered, his voice steady but low. "Be right back, Daniel."

"Don't accidentally kil—"

David ended the call abruptly, his mind now fully focused. He moved slowly toward the kitchen, his senses on high alert. His footsteps were almost silent as he approached, the dim hallway light casting long shadows across the walls. Every breath felt too loud in the silence.

As he reached the kitchen doorway, his eyes widened at the sight—his window was shattered, shards of glass scattered across the floor. Someone had broken in.

His heart raced, but his body moved with controlled precision. He scanned the room carefully, stepping lightly over the glass, his eyes darting to every corner, every shadow. The silence was oppressive. He knew he wasn't alone.

—Creak!

The soft sound of a floorboard shifting behind him sent a jolt of instinct through his body. Without thinking, David spun around and lashed out with a powerful kick aimed directly behind him.

His foot connected with solid flesh, and a grunt of surprise escaped from the intruder as the force of David's kick sent the man stumbling backward, crashing into the nearby wall. The intruder hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

David didn't wait for a second thought. He stepped back, his body tensed, adrenaline surging through his veins. He quickly sized up the situation—two more figures were lurking in the shadows near the kitchen entrance.

Three in total.

His mind raced. These weren't random burglars—they had moved too quietly, too deliberately. David clenched his fists, his body coiled and ready, prepared for whatever came next.

One down. Two to go.

The two remaining burglars, realizing their partner was down, exchanged glances. Then, without a word, they pulled knives from their pockets, the cold metal gleaming under the dim kitchen light.

David's eyes narrowed, and he instinctively slid into a low, defensive stance—one foot slightly back, his weight balanced, arms raised but relaxed. He could feel the tension crackling as they prepared to charge. His heart raced, but his mind was calm, his body ready.

He had been preparing for something like this ever since his wife had passed. Grief had driven him to learn Aikido—not just to occupy his mind, but to protect himself and his daughter. Aikido wasn't about aggression but using an opponent's strength and momentum against them. It was fluid and reactive, blending with the attacker's energy to neutralize them without excessive force.

With a sudden surge, the two burglars ran forward, knives flashing as they lunged toward him.

David moved like water, sidestepping the first man's wild stab. He grabbed the burglar's wrist precisely, turning his body into the attacker's momentum and flipping him effortlessly to the ground with a smooth, circular motion. The man hit the floor hard, his knife clattering away, as David's grip tightened, immobilizing him.

The second burglar was behind, slashing downward, aiming for David's back. Without missing a beat, David released the first man and turned to face the second, deflecting the knife hand with a swift, controlled movement. His other hand pressed the attacker's shoulder, guiding him off balance. In a swift motion, David twisted the burglar's arm into a lock, forcing him to his knees with a wince of pain.

But these men weren't going down without a fight. The first burglar scrambled to his feet, charging again. David's instincts shifted—this called for something more decisive.

A flash of determination crossed David's face as he shifted tactics. He was now tapping into the more brutal art of Koppojutsu, a technique focused on targeting the skeletal structure. Unlike Aikido's fluid redirection, Koppojutsu was about breaking—destroying an attacker's bones and joints.

The first burglar swung his fist, but David moved quickly, stepping inside his guard. He grabbed the man's wrist and twisted sharply while driving his knee into the burglar's elbow joint.

-CRACK!

The sickening sound of bone snapping filled the kitchen as the burglar screamed in agony, his arm dangling uselessly at his side.

The second burglar, still in David's grip, panicked and tried to twist free, but David's movements were controlled and precise. He struck precision again, targeting the man's collarbone with a sharp, downward palm strike.

-CRACK!

Another brutal break. The second burglar dropped to the floor, clutching his shoulder in pain, his knife falling from his hand.

David stood over them, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his body humming with adrenaline. He stared down at the intruders, his mind sharp, aware that he had disabled them without killing—but there would be no more threat from them tonight-

—BANG!

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the room, and David felt a searing pain in his chest. His body jerked backward, and his breath caught in his throat. For a split second, he couldn't comprehend what had happened. The world slowed down around him as he turned, wincing, to find the source of the attack.

Another burglar stood at the entrance to the kitchen; his gun raised, the barrel still smoking. Cold eyes stared back at David.

David's knees buckled as the pain radiated from his chest, and he collapsed onto the cold tile floor. His heart pounded, each beat sending waves of agony through him, but he gritted his teeth. He couldn't go down like this. Not now. Not here. He had to keep fighting. His daughter... she needed him.

With a groan, David pressed his trembling hands against the floor, trying to push himself up. His vision swam, the room spinning around him, but he willed his body to move. Sweat dripped from his brow as he shakily rose to one knee, his breath ragged.

He refused to die here.

—Bang!

Another gunshot rang out. The impact was brutal, striking him again, and this time, David collapsed fully onto the floor, gasping in pain. The strength left his limbs, and he could feel the warmth of his blood spreading beneath him. His vision began to blur, and the world grew dimmer by the second.

His life flashed before his eyes. Memories flickered in and out of focus—his wife's smile, the warmth of her laughter, the soft touch of her hand. He saw his daughter, her bright eyes and innocent face. She clung to him when she was small and always trusted him to keep her safe. Daniel, his best friend since middle school, has always been by his side.

David's heart ached. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't leave her. His daughter's face hovered in his mind, her voice echoing in his ears. He'd promised to be there for her, protect her, and watch her grow up.

"I can't... die... now..." he whispered, barely able to form the words as the world around him faded.

But the pain was overwhelming. His body felt heavy, his strength gone. His vision darkened further, the sounds of the world around him fading to silence. He tried to hold onto the image of his daughter—her face, her smile—but even that began to slip away.

The world went black.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

David slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the oppressive darkness surrounding him. His body felt light, almost weightless, as he slowly rose to his feet. Panic surged within him as he frantically scanned his surroundings.

"Where am I?" he muttered, his voice echoing strangely in the eerie void.

Everything around him was dark, suffocatingly so, but in the distance, faint trails of white smoke drifted lazily through the air. They seemed to glow faintly, like ethereal wisps lost in the night, swirling and dancing in an otherworldly rhythm.

A shiver crawled down David's spine. Something wasn't right. The air was thick and heavy with an unsettling presence. And then, he heard it—a deep, resonant voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"You..."

David spun around, heart pounding in his chest. His breath caught as he laid eyes on the source of the voice. A massive, towering shadow loomed before him, its form vaguely human but shrouded in an ominous, flickering red mist. Its glowing eyes pierced through the darkness, locking onto David with an intensity that chilled him to his core.

Fear gripped him, his legs trembling.

"Who... are you?" he managed to ask, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with dread.

Was this it? Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take his soul? His heart raced faster, the cold tendrils of terror creeping through his veins. The shadow's presence felt like death, ancient and unstoppable, closing in on him. His mind screamed at him to run, but his body was frozen, paralyzed by fear.

The red shadow moved closer, its presence growing more oppressive with each step. David felt a suffocating weight press down on his chest. He couldn't breathe. It was right before him now, the crimson mist swirling around it like a violent storm. He shut his eyes tight, bracing for the inevitable strike.

...

...

He waited, every second feeling like an eternity, expecting the cold grasp of death to pull him under.

But... nothing.

Tentatively, David opened his eyes. The darkness was gone. He blinked in confusion, his breath catching in his throat. The terrifying shadow had vanished, and a traditional Japanese room was in its place. The contrast was jarring.

The tatami mats underfoot were immaculate, soft beneath his feet. The walls were made of fine wooden beams interspersed with elegant rice paper screens. Exquisite lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, highlighting intricate scrolls of calligraphy that adorned the walls.

A low table crafted from polished wood sat at the center of the room, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air. Everything about this space was refined, ancient, and rich with a sense of calm... and yet, David's mind raced with confusion.

"What is going on?" he whispered, his heart still pounding in his chest.

—Shhhh!

The soft sound of a sliding door echoed across the room. David spun around to face the source, his eyes widening as a figure stepped into view.

A boy with striking white hair and piercing blue eyes entered, his movement graceful as he crossed the threshold. He was dressed in a traditional blue kimono, rich and elegant fabric embroidered with intricate designs. Despite his youthful appearance, he radiated immense power, and something about him felt familiar.

David's breath caught in his throat as recognition dawned on him. The white hair. The sharp blue eyes. The boy who now stood before him was unmistakable.

It was Satoru Gojo, standing before him as if plucked straight from the pages of Jujutsu Kaisen.