Transmigrated Become Sukuna, but the host is Yukinoshita Yukino?

"So the teacher wasn't lying. This place really is in the middle of nowhere…" 

A white-haired boy wearing sunglasses, a floral shirt, and black shorts muttered in annoyance. 

Suguru Geto, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—dressed neatly in his Jujutsu High uniform, covering himself from head to toe. 

In this remote mountain village, what bothered the bun-haired boy more than the Cursed Spirits were the annoying bugs flying and crawling everywhere. 

Gojo Satoru could keep his Limitless Technique active at all times, preventing bugs from getting near him. 

Geto couldn't. He had to rely on bug spray and anti-itch spray. 

At times like this, Suguru Geto truly envied Gojo Satoru. 

After flying into Shikoku, they had to take a long, bumpy bus ride to the nearest town. From there, they still had to walk to finally reach their destination—a small village deep in the countryside. 

"If you were the one who insisted on coming along, then stop complaining." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" 

Looking bored, Gojo Satoru flicked away a mosquito that had been stopped by his Limitless Technique. 

"Anyway, let's find the client first." 

Geto said as they entered the village described in the request. 

By the time they arrived, the sun was already setting, half-hidden behind the hills. 

The village was built on a small patch of flat land, surrounded by low hills. The fields were carved between these hills, and in the summer, the wheat fields stretched out in a lush green, glowing gold under the warm evening sunlight. 

A few old oxen wandered along the narrow pathways between the fields. On the dirt roads, children in school uniforms ran around, chasing each other—probably just returning from school in town. 

A peaceful atmosphere filled the village. 

There was no sign that Cursed Spirits were lurking here. 

But this was only how it appeared on the surface. 

For two Special-Grade Sorcerers, one of whom possessed the Six Eyes, there was no way they could miss the filthy, cursed presence lingering in the air. 

 "So, it really is a Cursed Spirit." 

"Just as expected." 

Suguru Geto and Gojo Satoru both had calm, uninterested expressions. 

Judging from the lingering traces of cursed energy, the spirit causing trouble in this village wasn't even at the level of a Grade 1. At most, it was a Semi-Grade 1—nothing impressive. 

Geto alone could handle it easily. 

Not to mention, Gojo Satoru was with him.

They didn't even need to do anything themselves. 

Following the trail of residual cursed energy left behind, they tracked their target through the village. Along the way, they encountered many local villagers. 

The two of them dressed nothing like the villagers, drawing curious and scrutinizing looks from the people they passed. 

The white-haired boy paid no attention to them, chatting casually with his friend. But Suguru Geto noticed something odd in their gazes. 

Maybe it was just a case of xenophobia. The more isolated a place, the more likely it was to be like this. 

Shrugging off the discomfort of being stared at, Geto quickly put it out of his mind. 

The trail led them to a rugged mountain path on the outskirts of the village. The cursed spirit lurking behind them could no longer resist revealing itself. 

Thinking it had hidden well, it was unaware that its movements had long been exposed to the two special-grade sorcerers. 

It was a second-grade cursed spirit, not even close to reaching semi-first grade. Its intelligence was about as low as one would expect. 

"The so-called 'vanishing legend' is nothing more than victims being completely devoured by a cursed spirit. Must be tough for normal people who can't even see these things. They have to come up with myths just to explain it." Gojo Satoru scoffed as he stopped walking. 

"Fear of the unknown is humanity's greatest fear. Creating legends is a way to give the unknown a name, to make it feel less terrifying. That's just how ignorant people are," Geto said. 

His calm tone made the white-haired boy glance at him. 

There was no need to fight. For low-grade cursed spirits, Cursed Spirit Manipulation was absolute. If the spirit was at least two grades weaker than the user, the process of subjugation could be skipped entirely—it could be absorbed directly. 

Geto stretched out his hand with a cold, indifferent expression. The cursed spirit that had tried to ambush them instantly twisted and contorted, sucked helplessly toward his palm. 

In less than a second, the cursed spirit that had tormented the villagers for years turned into a murky glass orb in the bun-haired boy's palm, glowing faintly with an amber light. 

After swallowing the orb without a second thought, Geto spoke lightly, "The job's done. Let's report back to the client and head home." 

"Man, that was easy. Let's take a stroll around Shikoku tomorrow before heading back," Gojo Satoru said, folding his hands behind his head with a relaxed smile. 

At the same time, a faint doubt surfaced in his mind. 

If this mission was so simple, why would *that* Suguru Geto end up wiping out the entire village? 

… 

"The client is a man named Nobuhiko Sugisaki, apparently the village chief," Geto recalled from the mission details. 

"So, where's this village chief now?" Gojo Satoru spread his hands. 

Geto looked around briefly before approaching an elderly woman with a kind face to ask for directions. The woman was more than happy to help. 

After thanking her with a polite smile, Geto and Gojo headed toward the village chief's house. 

It wasn't as grand as houses in Tokyo, but compared to the other village homes, it was clearly more luxurious—a single-story house blending Japanese and Western styles, complete with a spacious yard where grapevines grew. 

"Who is it?" 

Before long, a stocky man with a buzz cut came running to the front yard and opened the door. 

Sugisaki Nobuhiko was wiping sweat from his forehead when he saw the two tall young men at his door. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure why outsiders had come to see him. 

"You're the one who made the request, right?" Geto reminded him. 

"Oh! Right, right!" Sugisaki smacked his forehead and nodded repeatedly. "That was me! You two must be the students sent by Jujutsu High! Please, come in, come in!" 

The village chief welcomed them inside, where his wife kindly served them two cups of tea. "We don't have much to offer, just some simple tea. I hope you don't mind." 

"It's no problem. About the request—" Geto started, but was cut off mid-sentence. 

"Ah, yes, yes! The request, the request!" Sugisaki repeated. Just as Gojo Satoru reached for his teacup, the village chief gestured for them to follow him. "Come with me." 

Gojo raised an eyebrow, picked up his teacup, and walked after him alongside Geto. 

Sugisaki led them to his study. The room had a lot of bookshelves, but most of them were empty. Only a few old books were scattered here and there. Hanging on the walls were low-quality replicas of Van Gogh, Picasso, and other famous artists' works.

He lifted a floorboard in front of the desk, revealing a hidden trapdoor. A staircase led down into a dark basement.

"What kind of family has a secret basement hidden under the floor?" Gojo Satoru muttered as he sipped his tea.

Sugisaki Nobuhiko wiped his sweat again, his thick lips trembling. "There are two demons locked down there! They must be the ones behind all these disappearances!"

"Huh?" Gojo's mouth fell open in surprise, his sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose.

Hadn't they just taken care of the real culprit a few minutes ago?

The white-haired boy adjusted his sunglasses and turned to look at his friend.

Suguru Geto shook his head slightly, signaling him to wait and see how things played out.

The two followed the village chief and his wife down the stairs. The couple walked ahead, lighting candles along the walls as they descended.

But once they reached the bottom, Gojo and Geto realized this wasn't just a basement—it was a dungeon.

"Sirs, look! These are the two cursed little devils!" 

Sugisaki Nobuhiko pointed angrily at the two young twin girls locked inside the dungeon.

The moment Geto saw their scarred bodies, he froze. "This is…"

Beside him, Gojo's usual carefree expression faded. His brows furrowed slightly. "They're sorcerers."

The middle-aged man spoke with open disgust, as if looking at a pile of trash. "These two freaks attack villagers with their strange powers!"

The chief's wife quickly added, "My grandson almost died because of them!"

The black-haired girl behind the bars immediately protested, her voice filled with anger. "He was the one who—"

"Shut up, monster!" The middle-aged woman shouted, spitting in her rage—nearly hitting Geto in the face.

"Their parents were the same way!"

"We should've killed you both when you were still babies!"

The villagers' furious shouts made the Hasaba sisters tremble. Their tattered clothes barely covered the bruises and wounds on their small bodies.

Hasaba Mimiko and Hasaba Nanako, twin sisters who once argued over who should be the older sibling.

Back then, their parents were still alive, not yet murdered by the ignorant and cruel villagers. Even though they were outcasts, they could still play together and return home to the warm smiles of their parents. They weren't lonely.

But after their parents were tricked and killed by the villagers, their already difficult lives became even worse.

At school, they were bullied. On the way home, they had rocks thrown at them. In the village, they were shunned at every turn. With no one to rely on, the two little girls could only cling to each other, holding onto the past while obeying their parents' last words—enduring the unfairness of life.

"Mimiko, Nanako, listen carefully." Their mother's gentle voice echoed in their minds. "Never use your cursed techniques carelessly. Jujutsu is a power meant to help others, never to hurt them. Do you understand?"

Everything changed when the village chief's grandson—a fat, buck-toothed boy—tried to harass Mimiko.

Nanako finally couldn't hold back. She used her cursed technique to teach him a lesson. But she wasn't skilled enough to control her power properly—she nearly strangled the boy to death on the spot.

As a result, the chief's family locked the twins up in the dungeon. The whip marks on their bodies were from their punishment.

Now, the village chief and his wife took turns speaking, twisting the truth, painting the helpless girls as evil creatures.

"…Geto." 

Gojo glanced at his friend, his voice filled with concern.

At that moment, he finally started to understand why, in the future, Geto would commit mass slaughter.

But Geto didn't seem to hear him. He simply pressed a hand to his forehead, lost in thought.

For a moment, he saw visions—of the village chief and his wife lying dead at his feet, of the villagers screaming as his cursed spirits tore through them, of the entire village engulfed in blue flames.

"Disgusting monkeys."

A familiar whisper echoed in his ears.

It was his own voice.

He glanced to the side. The weary-looking "Suguru Geto" stood right next to him. 

"Monkeys have no value whatsoever. You will walk the same path as I did." 

"…What!?" 

The boy with a bun whipped his head around. 

For the first time, his own illusion spoke to him. 

In all his past dreams, he had always been a detached observer—unable to interact with anything or move freely. 

But he quickly regained his composure and asked, "How can you be so sure?" 

"Because I am you." "Suguru Geto" turned his head, shifting his gaze from the Hasaba sisters to the boy with the bun. 

And in that moment, the boy saw it clearly—his own exhausted face, the deep helplessness in his eyes, and the smoldering anger buried within. 

"But what I went through is different from you," the boy argued. 

"Yes. Amanai Riko survived. She wasn't killed before your eyes by Zenin Toji." "Suguru Geto" didn't deny it. Instead, he pulled the corners of his mouth into a mocking smile. "But that had nothing to do with you, did it? It was only because someone stronger stepped in." 

"That's all there is to it." 

"You're still the weakest. Shoko doesn't even need to be mentioned. You're weaker than Gojo Satoru, weaker than Yuki Tsukumo, and don't even get me started on Hayashizaki, who is even stronger than Gojo Satoru." 

Faced with "Suguru Geto's" ridicule, the boy with the bun found himself at a loss for words. Because he knew—it was the truth. 

"I know I'm weak. If I could become Gojo Satoru, maybe… maybe that ridiculous dream of a world where only sorcerers exist really could come true." 

"Suguru Geto" looked back at the Hasaba sisters again, his expression softening. 

"But I am neither Gojo Satoru nor the strongest. That's why I need family—not family bound by blood, but people who share the same great wish, people I can entrust myself to." 

"You are me. I am you. No matter how different our experiences are, that won't change, because at our core, we are both Suguru Geto." 

The boy with the bun remained silent for a long time. 

He wanted to deny "himself," but deep down, he realized that part of him agreed with the path the other had chosen. And that realization sent him spiraling into an intense inner conflict. 

It wasn't until Gojo Satoru's voice rang in his ears again that Suguru Geto snapped back to reality, breaking free from the illusion before him. 

"Geto, kill these two." 

… 

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