Transmigrated Become Sukuna, but the host is Yukinoshita Yukino?

"Don't worry. The seal will wear off after some time."

Kenjaku looked at the white-haired man with a sour expression and smiled. "A hundred years… no, maybe a thousand."

"See you in the new world. Goodnight, Gojo Satoru."

"Close."

As Kenjaku spoke, the flesh cube holding Gojo Satoru tightly, keeping him from moving, suddenly closed up.

The light quickly faded. The last thing Gojo saw was Kenjaku's face—wearing the appearance of his old friend.

The Prison Realm turned back into a solid flesh cube. Each of its six sides had a strange, single eye. When all the eyes closed, the Prison Realm seemed to turn to stone, changing to a pale gray color.

"Our deal is done. From here on, we'll act on our own," said a raspy voice coming from a figure with a fearsome, demon-like face.

"Of course, go ahead," Kenjaku replied, reaching out to take the floating Prison Realm.

Death turned back into a black mist and vanished from the rooftop.

That was harder than expected.

Kenjaku looked down at the Prison Realm in his hand and couldn't help but sigh to himself.

But in the next moment, the weight of the Prison Realm suddenly grew heavy—unbearably heavy—and dropped from his hand like a boulder, smashing into the ground hard enough to crack it.

The strange eyes on its surface started to tremble. Their pupils turned deep blue, and to Kenjaku's surprise, they began to cry. Steam rose from them as if something inside was evaporating.

"This is… just absurd."

Kenjaku's calm face twisted a little. The Prison Realm had become so heavy it was nearly impossible to move, let alone carry away.

"I've heard of the Prison Realm before."

Just then, a light sound of someone landing came from behind him, followed by a voice that was both unfamiliar and oddly familiar.

He turned around—and froze.

"Is my body and technique really that useful?"

Dressed in a Jujutsu High uniform, Suguru Geto stared coldly at the man in front of him—who looked exactly like him, except for the large stitch running across his forehead.

"So Gojo really got sealed, huh? After all that time apart, the first reunion is… in a box."

"The Prison Realm is one of the most unique special-grade cursed tools. It was made from the body of the legendary monk Genshin after he passed away. They say it can seal anything in the world. If I remember right, there were two of them."

Kenjaku finally snapped out of it, his mouth curling into a grin. "So that's it. Some leftover trace from the past brought you back to life, huh? Suguru Geto."

"Well, something like that. But from what I've learned, it seems to be the result of two parallel worlds merging. I don't know the details. We probably owe Hayashizaki-san a big thank you," Geto said with a shrug.

"Judging by your reaction, you were affected too? So the side effects of the merged worlds are out of Hayashizaki-san's control, huh. But something that powerful being a little unstable actually makes it easier to accept."

Kenjaku frowned as Geto kept talking nonstop and finally cut him off. "Were you always this chatty?"

"Ah, sorry, sorry. Guess I got a little too excited," Geto said with a smile. "Give me a break—it's been years since I've said anything in this world."

"Well then," Geto's smile faded as his voice turned cold, "you can die now."

Black ripples spread out behind him. A white dragon burst from the darkness, roaring as it lunged at Kenjaku.

...Jiu

...

Death's six cold, vertical eyes stared at the sudden newcomer—a young man in a pure white kimono with black hair. In a hoarse voice, it asked:

"Who are you?"

The black-haired young man scratched his chin, acting like he hadn't heard a word. He mumbled to himself, "Gojo Satoru, that white-haired bastard, lost... So if it's just Suguru Geto left, that might not be enough."

As he spoke, his hand reached toward his pants pocket out of habit, only to realize he was wearing a kimono. He quickly pulled his hand back, reached inside the inner layer of the robe, took out his phone, and dialed a number.

The phone rang a few times before it was finally answered.

As soon as it connected, Hayashizaki said, "Hey, get to Shinjuku, Tokyo, as fast as you can. Go find Suguru Geto."

"Huh? Wait, hold up—what the hell are you talking about?" a clearly annoyed male voice replied. "I have no clue what's going on over here."

Fushiguro Toji had just appeared outside the Panxing Sect's base in Tokyo and was still trying to sort through the conflicting memories from two different timelines when Hayashizaki's call came in like a slap to the face.

"If you don't get it, forget it for now. Just do what I said. This is urgent," Hayashizaki said, and then hung up without giving him a chance to argue.

He could go himself, sure—but the enemy in front of him didn't look like someone he could handle easily, not after splitting off a clone.

Plus, Hayashizaki thought it might be a good chance to show off in front of a student he hadn't seen in a long time. That seemed way more important than Gojo Satoru at the moment.

Meanwhile, Fushiguro Toji stared at the phone, listening to the beep of the call ending. He clicked his tongue in frustration.

He put his phone away and looked around.

He remembered this place well—very well, in fact.

In this timeline, this was where Gojo Satoru had killed him. In the other one, he had wiped out every last Panxing Sect follower here, torn the place apart, and made a killing in the process.

One memory was of his own death. The other had just happened not long ago—no wonder it left a strong impression.

Fushiguro Toji scratched his head. The mental clash between the two sets of memories had calmed down now, and he'd come to accept the fact that he was alive again.

No, not quite. It wasn't "coming back to life." More like, he came from another world into this one, where Fushiguro Toji had already died.

If he went and dug up his own grave now, he might actually find his body.

But he wasn't interested in wasting time proving something like that. And the fact was, he owed Hayashizaki a big favor.

So fine—he'd go along with it for now. Besides, Shinjuku wasn't far from here.

Fushiguro Toji tapped his ear, picked a direction, and then dashed forward, cracking the ground under his feet. In the blink of an eye, he was gone like lightning.

…

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