Chapter Text
Yuri blinked open her eyes, woken by the soft morning light spilling into her bedroom.
Did I forget to close the curtains yesterday? she wondered groggily.
But as her eyes adjusted, she noticed it immediately.
This wasn’t her room—she didn’t recognize this place at all.
It was a simple, unadorned room, distinctly reminding her of a dorm from her university days. The floor beneath her was wooden, polished and reflecting the early daylight that streamed through glass windows. In the corner of the room, there was a desk with a single chair, both plain but functional. A closet stood by one wall, its door slightly ajar. And next to it, a full-length mirror caught her eye.
What is this place?
Yuri’s heart hammered in her chest as she bolted out of the bed towards the mirror.
Staring back at her was her own reflection albeit younger—wide brown eyes, cheeks with a hint of baby fat, and dishevelled black hair cascading over her shoulders.
She pressed her hands against her cheeks, her breathing rapid. "It’s me… but younger?"
Her reflection looked the same, but the room was completely foreign. She wasn’t at home, and this wasn’t the dorm she knew from her life.
Turning toward the window, she instinctively moved closer. The glass was cool under her fingertips as she looked outside. The view before her was strangely soothing—opposite to her current emotion. She saw sprawling greenery, sloping rooftops with intricate carvings, stone paths winding through shrine-like structures, and meticulously groomed Japanese gardens. A gentle breeze moved through the trees, causing leaves to rustle softly.
Where was she?
Then, her eyes landed on it.
Floating in the air before her was a glowing screen, unmistakable in its presence. She turned, startled, and recognized it immediately. It was the same interface she had been staring at last night before she went to bed—the interface of Cursed Reverie: Jujutsu Chronicles.
The game had been nothing short of revolutionary, praised for its intricate storytelling and immersive world-building. Players were drawn into the life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer navigating love, danger, and the seductive pull of Cursed Spirits. Every decision shaped the world around them, with consequences rippling through character relationships, alliances, and even the fate of the world.
The game’s core appeal lay in its branching narrative—every choice could shift the story’s direction, from simple conversations to life-altering decisions. Players could form bonds with characters as diverse as the bright, confident Jujutsu High students or the dark, enigmatic Cursed Spirits.
One of the game’s unique mechanics was its expansive setting: players could anchor themselves in the bustling metropolis of Tokyo, home to Jujutsu High and its secrets, or explore the ancient streets of Kyoto, where tradition and mystery intertwined. Each location offered different challenges, relationships, and romantic paths. The possibilities were endless.
And now, Yuri found herself here, standing in the world she had once only viewed through a screen. The same glowing interface that had guided her now floated ominously before her.
⎡Welcome, player Fujibana(藤花) Yuri (百合) to Cursed Reverie: Jujutsu Chronicles. ⎦
⎡Here you will experience the unprecedented freedom to shape the narrative, embracing sorcery or cursed spirits with the characters you desire.⎦
⎡Embark on your journey!⎦
⎡➪Yes⎦ ⎡No⎦
“No way…” Yuri muttered, her voice trembling. "This can’t be real… right?"
She pinched herself hard on the arm in disbelief. The sting was immediate and undeniable.
“ Ow ,” Yuri hissed. "What? Noooo, are you kidding me? Did I actually end up in my game like those webnovels?"
She glared at the translucent screen, the game’s interface refusing to disappear no matter how much she willed it to. Desperation bubbling within her, Yuri reached out to press ⎡No⎦ . The moment her finger tapped the screen, an unpleasant, dry noise dinged in her mind. It wasn’t a normal sound—somehow, it reverberated inside her head, signalling a firm rejection.
"Hello? System?? How do I log out and wake up? Administrator??? Anyone home?" Yuri shouted, her voice filled with rising frustration and panic. She waited for a response, but silence greeted her.
Nothing. No response. No escape.
Yuri groaned, running a hand through her hair.
How did I end up in this situation? Is this even real?
She felt trapped—like a character in one of those webnovels she used to read. Except this time, she was the protagonist.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a creak outside the room. Floorboards. Footsteps. Someone was approaching.
Yuri’s heart raced as she strained to listen, holding her breath. The footsteps stopped right in front of the door. Just as the fear began to grip her, the translucent screen flickered, and the words on it changed. The countdown to ⎡Yes⎦ started without her consent.
⎡ Automatically agree in... ⎦
⎡ …3 ⎦
⎡ …2 ⎦
⎡ …1 ⎦
⎡ ➪Yes! ⎦
“Wait! No—!” Yuri cried, reaching out instinctively, but the choice had already been made. The glowing screen vanished into thin air.
Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed through the room, and Yuri’s heart skipped a beat.
"Hello? I’ve come to pick you up, senpai!" a cheerful voice, distinctively male, called from behind the door.
Yuri froze, staring at the door, her pulse thundering in her ears. Whoever was on the other side of that door was part of the game, but none of this felt like a game anymore. The journey had already begun, and there was no turning back.
Yuri tried to recall everything she knew from the game. She had chosen to start her gameplay in Tokyo, joining the first-year students at Jujutsu High instead of going to Kyoto.
I hadn’t even technically finished the prologue yet , she thought, dismayed. She’d been in the midst of getting to know her new classmates. Fushiguro Megumi—quiet and brooding, with his sharp black hair and intense eyes. Kugisaki Nobara, a bold, outspoken girl who came from the countryside. Then there was Itadori Yuuji, a bright, cheerful boy who was new to the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, making it easy for the player to learn alongside him.
The memory of their introductions calmed her slightly, but reality came crashing back as the knocking on the door resumed, louder this time.
Knock. Knock.
“Strange… I definitely heard senpai’s voice though.” The voice behind the door was casual, yet persistent. “Senpai? Are you awake? Yaga-sensei asked me to pick you up.”
Yuri’s mind raced.
Okay… I don’t remember being picked up from a dorm room in the prologue, but maybe that’s just how the game starts in real life?
She took a deep breath. If she really was stuck in her game, her best bet was to see it through. Reaching the game’s end would surely allow her to return to her world, right? She didn’t have much of a choice either way.
Alright, just wing it , she told herself.
With a sharp exhale, she swung the door open, preparing to see someone familiar—maybe Megumi or Itadori—but the face on the other side left her completely confused, and another shot of panic spiked through her.
The boy standing in the hallway had short, dark brown hair styled in a way that could only be described as a bowl cut. His expression was friendly, his smile wide and genuine.
But Yuri’s eyes weren’t focused on his face—they were glued to the floating screen hovering just above his head:
⎡Haibara Yū: first year student at Tokyo Jujutsu High⎦
Yuri blinked. Haibara Yū? She didn’t recognize this name at all. In the prologue that she had played, there had been no such character as a first-year student.
“Uh… hi?” Yuri stammered, glancing from the floating text back to the boy in front of her.
“Good morning, senpai!” Haibara beamed, not seeming to notice her confusion. “Yaga-sensei asked me to come get you. He’s waiting for us in his office.”
“Yaga-sensei?” Yuri echoed, her mind spinning.
This was not how she had started the game. If Yuri remembered correctly, Yaga-sensei was the principal of Jujutsu High School and he had only appeared after the player had been recruited by Gojo-sensei. She had definitely never been picked up by… whoever this Haibara guy was.
“Senpai?” Said boy tilted his head, a note of confusion slipping into his tone as Yuri continued to stare at him bewilderedly.
“Uh… right. Coming,” Yuri replied, trying to mask her flustered state. Senpai? Does that mean I’m not a first year student? Yuri tried to not panic at being presented with another inconsistency from what she knew. She remembered starting the prologue as a first-year student herself, learning the ropes. And yet, this person—this unknown person—was calling her senpai. Still, she had to follow along, for now at least.
But first things first— Yuri looked down at her loose pyjamas—she hadn’t even dressed yet.
“Wait!” she called out quickly, holding up her hand. “Give me five seconds to change!”
“Oh! Of course, senpai. I’ll wait for you out here.”
Yuri nodded gratefully and quickly shut the door behind her. Leaning against it, she took a deep breath. Okay, okay. Focus .
She walked toward the closet on the far side of the room, sliding open the doors to reveal 5 sets of neatly hung school uniforms, along with other various outfits. Slipping off her pyjamas, she quickly changed into one of the uniforms, fastening the buttons and smoothing out the creases.
Turning toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection — wide startled eyes and hair a mess from sleep. Yuri tightened her grip on her hairbrush as she started pulling through the knots. I don’t have time to freak out. I’ll just figure it out as I go. She tugged the brush through her hair, untangling it as best she could, before tying it back in a loose French braid.
Once she was satisfied with her appearance—well, as satisfied as she could be under these bizarre circumstances—she grabbed her schoolbag, which had been neatly placed by the door. She took one last glance at her reflection, gave herself a mental pep talk, and opened the door.
Haibara was still waiting patiently in the hallway, smiling brightly when he saw her.
“Ready, senpai?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Yuri responded, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nerves. She fell in step beside him, and soon they left the dorm together.
Haibara led her down a cobbled stone path, their footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness of the morning. As they passed a courtyard, Yuri’s gaze swept over the scene. Vibrant blossoms swayed in the breeze, scattering pink petals that drifted gently to the ground. A small koi pond shimmered at the edge of the courtyard, its surface catching the sunlight as koi glided lazily beneath. Stone benches dotted the area, inviting in their quiet solitude—though all stood empty at this early hour.
I’m strolling through a national park, Yuri thought, a little hysterically.
Off to the side, she spotted something oddly familiar: a training ground she recognized from the game. Yuri had made her character walk across it a few times during the prologue—but now she was standing here herself, the reality of it sinking in all over again.
As they walked, Yuri’s mind raced. Haibara was unknown to her in the game. None of this matched the beginning of the game she remembered. Each step she took following Haibara mounted her shimmering anxiety.
Unable to stand it any longer, she turned to the boy beside her, her voice tentative—hoping he wouldn’t find her question bizarre.
“Hey, Haibara-kun… What’s the date? And the year?”
He turned toward her, a curious glint in his eyes. Yuri laughed hastily.
“Just humor me, Haibara-kun.”
“It’s April 24th, senpai. And we’re in 2006.”
Yuri nearly stumbled. 2006? That wasn’t possible.
She was pretty damn sure the game was set to start in 2018. If this was 2006, then she wasn’t just a second-year student… She was in the past—and a lot older than she thought she was supposed to be.
Okay, brain. No big deal.
“Senpai? You’re looking a bit pale—are you feeling alright?”
Yuri snapped back to reality. Haibara was peering up at her, concern etched on his face.
“Uh-huh, I’m feeling peachy,” she said quickly, gesturing wildly toward the building looming ahead. “Let’s go. Bring me to Yaga-sensei.”
Haibara nodded, leading her inside the main school building, though he kept casting worried glances her way, as if afraid she might collapse.
Yuri mentally kicked herself. She needed to get a grip. She was in uncharted territory, and she had no idea what surprises awaited her.
They stepped across the threshold and stopped in front of a tall, imposing wooden door. Haibara moved forward and knocked twice to announce their arrival.
A deep muffled voice called from the other side, “Come in.”
The brown haired boy slid the door open, and Yuri stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the figure sitting behind a large desk. It was a face she recognized—Principal Yaga. Yet something was different. The man before her didn’t have the spiky hair she remembered from the game. Instead, his head was shaved into a buzz cut with two straight lines shaved horizontally on each side.
The nail in the coffin was the floating screen above him:
⎡Yaga Masamichi: Tokyo Jujutsu High Teacher⎦
Teacher? Not Principal?
Well it made sense. Yaga Masamichi had been the principal of Jujutsu High in 2018. But since they currently were in 2006, it made sense that he hasn’t climbed up the ranks yet.
“Yaga-sensei,” Haibara greeted with a respectful bow before gesturing to Yuri. “I’ve brought her, as you requested.”
Yaga looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, his sharp eyes assessing Yuri. “Ah, good. Thank you, Haibara-kun.”
Haibara gave a small nod and retreated quietly to stand by the door, leaving Yuri feeling slightly on edge as Yaga’s gaze shifted to her.
“So, you must be our new second-year student,” Yaga said, motioning for her to sit. “Fujibana-kun, correct?”
Yuri hesitated before nodding and taking a seat. Second-year? That explained why Haibara had called her "senpai," but Yaga’s next words answered the question that had been plaguing her since she arrived.
“Since you’re seventeen, you’ve been registered as a second-year student here,” Yaga explained. “However, given your recent discovery of the jujutsu world, I’ve arranged for you to attend theory classes with the first years. You’ll need the foundational knowledge. Practical lessons, however, will be with your fellow second-years. They have more experience and can help guide you as you hone your powers.”
Yuri blinked, processing her new identity.
“My powers?” she prompted the man in front of him.
Yaga gave a small, knowing smile. “Yes, your jujutsu powers. I understand you may not be fully aware of them yet. Allow me to enlighten you.”
He picked up a slim folder from his desk and handed it to her. Written clearly on the cover were the words:
Time’s Portal (時の扉)
.
Yuri’s eyes widened as Yaga continued.
“Your power is known as Time’s Portal . It’s an extraordinary ability that allows you to manipulate time within a limited radius—a rare and potent jujutsu technique.”
“Time’s Portal…” Yuri repeated under her breath, flipping open the folder as her gaze scanned the first lines of the description. Manipulating time? It sounded absurdly overpowered. A thrum of excitement stirred in her chest as she imagined the possibilities.
“Yes,” Yaga said, his eyes glinting with restrained enthusiasm. “You may have experienced peculiar temporal phenomena even before you were scouted. Perhaps always catching the bus just in time, never running out of time during exams, things like that.”
Yuri had no idea what her character’s backstory was supposed to be before she landed in the game. She hadn’t had the chance to learn it during the prologue. But if Yaga was offering information, she wasn’t about to turn it down.
“I… suppose I have had some unusual experiences with time,” she agreed, playing along.
Yaga smiled knowingly. “Your power is a rare and valuable one. It can be a tremendous asset in dealing with curses. With proper training, you'll be able to unlock its full potential.”
Yuri stared down at the document in her hands, the weight of her new reality slowly sinking in. This was her ability—
Time’s Portal.
She had no idea how to use it yet, but if it was as powerful as Yaga suggested, it might be the key to surviving whatever this game had in store for her.
I can do this, she told herself, feeling marginally more grounded.
Once Yaga finished speaking, he folded his hands and gave her a firm nod.
“Your first lesson will be a theory class with the first years,” he said. “That’s why I had Haibara-kun pick you up from the dorm. Make sure you’re prepared—and pay attention. Even with your jujutsu ability, mastering the basics is critical.”
She had just been told she could manipulate
time
—and now she was expected to sit through a theory class like it was any other school day.
Also, she still had no idea how she’d ended up in her own game.
Yuri tried not to feel overwhelmed. She stood from her chair, sensing the finality in Yaga’s tone.
Haibara, who had been quietly waiting, stepped forward.
“I’ll take over from here, Yaga-sensei,” he said with a respectful bow.
He gestured toward the door. Yuri gave a quick nod, murmured a soft “thank you,” and followed him out of the office.
As they walked down the hallway, Haibara’s excitement was palpable.
“Wow, senpai,
Time’s Portal
! That’s amazing! Manipulating time? I’ve only ever read about powers like that. You must be incredibly strong!”
Yuri huffed out a laugh and pointed to herself.
“Just got scouted, remember? I have no idea how it even works.”
She absently flexed her hand, wondering if there was some trick to activating it. If she were still in her own world, using a jujutsu power would’ve been as simple as pressing a button on a controller. But now? This was real. And she had no clue how to actually do anything.
What was she supposed to do—wave her hands? Chant a spell? Strike a pose like a magical girl?
She could only pray no one asked her to demonstrate anything anytime soon.
Note to self: experiment the moment I’m alone.
Haibara, meanwhile, had launched into an enthusiastic explanation of various jujutsu techniques. Yuri hummed and nodded at the right moments, doing her best to keep up.
Before long, they reached a classroom. Haibara slid open the door and stepped aside, motioning for her to enter first.
The room was spacious but nearly empty, save for one person seated near the front.
Yuri’s gaze immediately landed on the tall boy with neatly combed blond hair. His features were sharp—his eyes sharper still, with a quiet, intelligent glint that made her feel like she was being analyzed.
Above his head, a familiar floating screen materialized:
⎡Nanami Kento: First-year student at Tokyo Jujutsu High⎦
“Ah, Nanami!” Haibara called out as they stepped inside. “This is Yuri-senpai. She’s new to our class.”
Nanami glanced up from the textbook open in front of him and gave Yuri a polite nod.
“Welcome.”
Yuri nodded back, though her thoughts were already drifting as she scanned the classroom.
Just the three of us,
she noted, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Just like the game.
There were always so few first years at Jujutsu High—no nameless background characters cluttering the world. Every interaction had weight. Every connection could ripple through the plot.
She took her seat just as Nanami leaned toward Haibara and asked, voice low,
“A second-year student? Why is she attending class with us?”
Yuri mentally nodded. Fair question.
Haibara, still cheerful, answered without missing a beat.
“Yuri-senpai’s situation is a little special. She
is
a second-year, but she’s new to the jujutsu world. Yaga-sensei thought it’d be better for her to start theory lessons with us—to get the basics down.”
Nanami raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking toward Yuri again. This time, his gaze lingered.
“New to the jujutsu world?”
“Yeah, just got scouted recently,” Yuri bluffed—though technically, that was her character’s backstory, right?
“How about you guys?” she asked, eager to steer the conversation away from her hastily invented background. “Were you born and raised in this… supernatural world?”
“Nanami and I were exposed pretty early on!” Haibara chimed in, ever the ray of sunshine. “Our parents are part of the jujutsu world.”
Yuri hummed, tucking the information away for later.
“So, cases like mine—where someone gets scouted—they’re pretty rare?”
“It’s not unheard of,” Nanami said thoughtfully, “but definitely not common.”
The conversation lulled, and Yuri’s thoughts drifted.
She recalled her playthrough of the prologue: meeting Megumi, the quiet and aloof sorcerer; Itadori Yuuji, who had brought such warmth and energy to the team; and Kugisaki Nobara, fierce and vibrant.
They had been her first glimpse of possible friendships—and maybe even romances—when she’d started the game.
They must be babies now,
Yuri mused, a strange mix of amusement and melancholy rising in her chest.
Will I get to see them again?
Before she could fall deeper into her thoughts, the classroom doors slid open behind them.
Yuri turned her head.
Standing in the doorway was a woman Yuri had never seen before. She looked to be around 1.70 meters tall, her black hair tied neatly into a low bun, secured with a vivid red ribbon. Her sharp brown eyes immediately gave off an air of intelligence and calculation. She wore the standard jujutsu sorcerer uniform, layered with a dark brown haori subtly patterned with cherry blossoms—an unexpected touch of elegance against her otherwise stern appearance.
Yuri’s eyes flicked upward just as a floating screen appeared:
⎡Aida Satsuki: Tokyo Jujutsu High Teacher⎦
Aida’s sharp gaze landed on Yuri, and she stiffened instinctively, her forgotten nerves catching up to her all at once.
For a brief moment, Aida’s expression softened—almost imperceptibly—as if she’d noticed Yuri’s unease.
“I’ve heard from Yaga-sensei about you,” Aida-sensei said, her tone clipped but not unkind. “To help ease your entry into the jujutsu world, today’s lecture will revisit the creation of cursed spirits. I chose this topic with you in mind.”
Yuri gave a small, grateful nod as the three students took out their notebooks.
Class turned out to be far more engaging than Yuri had expected. Aida-sensei stood at the front of the room, commanding attention with quiet confidence. Her stern features occasionally softened as she explained the material, revealing a more human side beneath her strict exterior.
“We will delve today into the intricacies of cursed spirits—entities that form the very fabric of our jujutsu world,” she began. Her voice held a calm authority that drew the room in. “Understanding their nature is crucial for any aspiring jujutsu sorcerer.”
With smooth, practiced motions, Aida-sensei turned to the blackboard, chalk in hand, and began sketching intricate symbols and diagrams.
“Cursed spirits are born from negative human emotions—regret, malice, fear. When these emotions accumulate and fester, they can take shape. Over time, they coalesce into malevolent entities. It is a phenomenon as old as humanity itself.”
Yuri leaned forward, eyes glued to the board as she absorbed every word.
I should’ve paid more attention to this part of the game, she thought wryly, scribbling notes as fast as her hand would allow.
She had skipped through most of the lore back in the prologue—game mechanics had made it easy to breeze past the details—but now, with her life depending on this knowledge, she couldn’t afford to miss a single thing.
“There are various types of cursed spirits,” Aida-sensei continued. “From low-level curses that may cause minor inconveniences to high-level curses that pose a serious threat to human life. It’s our duty as jujutsu sorcerers to exorcise these spirits, maintaining the balance between the human and cursed realms.”
Aida paused, giving the class time to let the information sink in before she continued. “A fundamental characteristic is that cursed spirits exist beyond the grasp of ordinary humans. Non-sorcerers cannot perceive or touch them in their usual state. They are imperceptible to the senses of non-sorcerers.”
“However,” she said, tapping the blackboard with the chalk for emphasis, “living humans who fall victim to curses may experience strange symptoms—unexplained fatigue, persistent nightmares, physical ailments, and sudden shifts in mood—all without realising the cursed spirit behind them. Cursed energy affects their lives in subtle ways, leading to various afflictions that often go unexplained.”
“In certain situations,” Aida continued, “non-sorcerers whose lives are put in imminent danger by a curse may gain a temporary ability to perceive the cursed spirit. This heightened perception emerges as a survival instinct, allowing them to sense the threat and take evasive action.”
Yuri’s hand flew across her notebook, frantically trying to capture everything. This was far more detailed than anything the game had ever given her.
As the school bell rang, signaling the end of class, she leaned back in her seat, the tension slowly seeping from her shoulders. Her eyes drifted over the pages of notes she’d taken.
It was fascinating—like learning an entirely new subject that didn’t exist in the real world.
A part of her wondered if they’d also have normal classes like math or science. Yuri couldn’t deny that she wasn’t exactly looking forward to relearning her entire high school curriculum.
As a resident physician in the real world, she was confident she’d ace biology without breaking a sweat. But it had been a long time since she’d touched a single integral equation.
After class, Haibara, Nanami, and Yuri made their way to the cafeteria. The midday sun bathed the courtyard in golden light, and Yuri quietly soaked it in, once again marveling at how real everything felt.
By the time they arrived, the warm, savory smell of food wafted through the air, making Yuri’s stomach growl with anticipation.
Once they were settled with their meal—a simple yet delicious Japanese-style lunch of miso soup, grilled fish, an assortment of side dishes, rice, and a bottle of milk—Yuri found herself seated between Haibara and Nanami at one of the long wooden tables.
She picked up her chopsticks and took a small bite of grilled fish. The flavor was delicate but satisfying. As she chewed, her thoughts drifted back to the realization that had been nagging her all morning.
I’m in 2006.
That meant everything was different from the version of the game she knew.
It was time to start gathering more information.
Glancing over at Haibara and Nanami, she cleared her throat.
“So… who are the second years at Jujutsu High?” she asked, trying to sound casual—though her curiosity was anything
but
.
Haibara opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say a word, a firm female voice cut in from behind.
“I’m one of the second years,” the voice said.
Yuri turned around, her eyes landing on a girl with neatly cut brown hair, the strands stopping just at her chin. A distinctive mole sat beneath her right eye, adding character to an otherwise laid-back appearance. Her slightly droopy eyes gave her a calm, almost disinterested air.
⎡Ieiri Shoko: Second-year student at Tokyo Jujutsu High⎦
The girl slid into the seat beside them, placing her tray down with casual ease.
“Ieiri Shoko,” she said, picking up her chopsticks with a flick of her wrist. “Second-year.”
Ieiri Shoko...
Yuri turned the name over in her mind. It didn’t ring any bells.
She sighed inwardly. She had barely made it through the prologue before ending up here—she could count the number of characters she’d met on one hand.
Anyone could’ve shown up if she’d had more time with the game.
Can’t be helped, she thought. I’ll just deal with it.
“Fujibana Yuri,” she said with a light smile. “Half-time second-year.”
Shoko’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I’ve heard. Nice to meet you, Yuri.”
She took a bite of her food before continuing, her tone light and conversational.
“As for the other second-years…” she trailed off with a knowing look. “I’m sure you’ll meet them soon enough. Just… brace yourself. We’re not exactly the quietest class.”
“Who are the others?” Yuri asked, curiosity flickering in her voice.
Shoko waved a hand lazily as she leaned back.
“Oh, you
can’t
miss them. Gojō Satoru and Geto Suguru. They’re off on a mission right now, so they’re not around to terrorize you. Yet.”
She ended with a quiet, amused huff.
Gojō… Satoru?
Yuri blinked. That was a name she
knew
.
Gojō, as in Gojō -sensei?
In the game she had started, Gojō Satoru was one of the teachers at Jujutsu High—infamous for his overwhelming power, his eccentric personality, and, of course, his iconic blindfold.
But here, in 2006, Yuri realized, he was still a student.
She tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind was racing.
Gojō Satoru, the student?
It made sense—Yaga was still a teacher instead of the principal.
So of course Gojō would still be young in this timeline.
Shoko took another bite of food, her gaze flicking toward Yuri.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a small smile. “You’ll get used to it. They may be chaotic, but you’re in good hands with them.”
Yuri nodded as she chewed her lunch.
She couldn’t deny she was excited to meet Gojō Satoru in the flesh.
Bit by bit, she was starting to accept the surreal truth—she was
inside
her game.
The warmth of the sunlight on her skin, the taste of grilled fish on her tongue, the vivid expressions of the people around her…
They didn’t feel like NPCs.
If this really was
Cursed Reverie: Jujutsu Chronicles
—then fine. Game or not, this was her new reality.
She had to learn how to navigate it—and maybe, just maybe—she could even enjoy it.
I’ll make it through this one. And go home.
She was determined to see it through, even if she didn’t know how the story would end. But she would reach it. Somehow.
Just as this realization settled in, something strange happened.
A bright, floating screen appeared in front of her—familiar, unmistakably game-like.
⎡Welcome, player Fujibana Yuri. You have been successfully assimilated into the game interface!⎦
Yuri blinked, startled—but her eyes widened as she read on.
⎡You now have the power to nurture your Jujutsu abilities, strengthen your relationships with various characters, and dive into their personal stories. Discover the open world of Cursed Reverie and gain rewards by completing missions.⎦
For a moment, she could hardly believe what she was reading.
Then, a small smile tugged at her lips.
It felt like a tutorial prompt—a system message letting her know the rules of this world.
She hadn’t seen this when she first started playing. But now that she
was
the player character, it made sense.
Alright then, she thought, a grin forming. Game on.
The screen vanished, leaving behind a quiet spark of determination.
She didn’t know where this path would lead—but she was ready to take the first step.
And if this world wanted her to play, she’d play it through to the very end.