2. Damn

I never thought I'd have to do a 'TW' 'Trigger Warning', you know, those things that people in twitter loves to do, but I'd rather say it's a 'clarification', quotation marks. And I plan to explain it much more in detail later, but there are moments where the personality (technically the soul) of the protagonist is affected by Naoya's body, I'll try to (for the duration of this), explain moments before that 'click' and you can see how the protagonist practically does a 180.º. He's not a macho, psychopathic, misogynistic jerk who probably beats up cats in the street like Naoya lol.

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Many, too many, absurd questions in his head were starting to invade him. The vast majority of them being overlaid by thoughts originating from Naoya, calcined, sunken and steeped in inhuman hatred. However, the most important of them all managed to survive: How? 

It would be impossible for Maki to be fifteen without him being older, and it would be impossible for him to be younger when she is his same age.

Impossible, simply impossible, is to spit on a multitude of concepts about the chronology of Naoya, Maki, Ogi and even Naobito.

At fifteen, she should have already left the Zen'in clan to join Tokyo Jujutsu High. And, and-.

'Trash,' words that echoed from within his soul, collapsing what little control he had over his own tongue. 'You are disgusting, Maki, incapable of even walking three steps behind a man.'

"What did your daughter's disappointment do now?"

Something was wrong.

Those words were not his, the actions on his body were not his, the way he breathed were not his, the way he looked at the woman were not his.

His instincts, from deep within him were twisting. Something primal screamed at him that he was in danger, and something more primal responded with an anger that consumed every thought, growing in size every time his gaze rested on her. 

Those are not mine. 

Maki wasn't trash, she was....

She was...

She was Maki and-.

'Maki is the disappointment of the Zen'in clan.'

And that was a fact that echoed in his head. "She spoke without permission," Ogi retorted, taking the wooden sword – bokken, whispered a memory of Naoya –, striking Maki's body once more, at speeds he was unable to react to, blood splattering on the walls.

Cursed energy? It was a possibility that invaded his mind, but the caress of an old memory murmured to him that Ogi was always this fast, this strong and this decrepit. 

The blows continued, watching as one after another, the gleam in Maki's eyes slowly disappeared. Her consciousness fading between each drop of blood that painted the walls.

The Zen'in clan, or at least the universe variable of this Zen'in clan, was definitely following the same rules as the original. But it raised many questions, many of which remained unanswered as the violence directed at Maki slowly became meaningless.

After what seemed like hours, but was nothing more than minutes. Maki stopped moving, her breathing was still present, weak, but alive. Ogi letting out a sigh as he put the bokken away next to the others.

"Is she still breathing? You were more merciful than other times, Ogi," I leaned in, as if I were looking at a fair monkey. 

"It's for her to learn its place, she has a pretty face, but her attitude is quite lacking," he mentioned in such a... Normal way, something even he had to respond by raising an eyebrow. 

"Pathetic," the voice of Naoya, the real Naoya Zen'in, managed to leave his lips. Catching the center of his heart with claws that tore away the ability to even be able to feel anything for Maki. "With the possible scars she'll get, her status would definitely go down, maybe slave with a little makeup". I... I thought.

'No, no, no, no, get out of my fucking head.'

I wasn't lying.

Maki would barely make a good concubine with her face, now? He doubted she'd even be a consolation trophy.

'Shit, no.'

"Probably, but she'll live, one of the few qualities she got from-", Ogi pulled a pocket watch from his clothes as he spoke, – were they still making those antiques? – he seemed to have spent more time than he wanted to, so he just fixed his clothes, giving me one last glance.

Ogi's black sclera watched my eyes. It was a small staring battle that lasted a couple of seconds. "You have blood on your face, Naoya."

Maki's dirty blood? Yuck. Filthy woman. "Bah, learn to hit better with that thing, Ogi," but he had simply disappeared from the room. "Damn weirdo."

Ogi was definitely still the same mentally ill guy as before, just as antisocial as before. But hell, where did he get the genes to generate Maki from? Was it the mother's genetics? 

"What do you think, Maki-san?" he brought his fingers to Maki's neck, trying to feel even the slightest hint of that cursed energy. She was theoretically an exception in the world of sorcery, originally blessed with a body without a drop of cursed energy.

In a different world in many ways, maybe, just maybe. She would again be the exception. "I hope you are, it would make me sick to my stomach to waste my time and kill you," his fingers slowly dug into the woman's neck. "Cursed energy has the basis in genetics, Maki. It's in a way just another chemical change, to see curses you need a specific amount of cursed energy, but you can get more cursed energy when your life is in danger."

Still nothing, too bad. But the massacre of the Zen'in clan was averted. And if everything went on as it should, I would become the clan chief. "I'd say I'd miss you, Maki, but you and I know you'd never become a good woman."

The door suddenly opened, probably some servant, fortunately, she wouldn't say anything, a few threats would be enough to make-. 

Click.

What the-.

Plumb.

Something threw him to the ground. 

His head was spinning.

He could barely manage to open his eyes because the moonlight was too bright. A constant beeping, weakness sinking into his entire body except for his skull. "Ugh," it was twice now that he felt like this.

He could barely manage to think, and he thought he was born again. For darkness again greeted him. "Mai, Mai, Mai. Don't try to scream, we know that-" a memory manifested in front of him. It was quite similar to the ones he had about two hours earlier, but it seemed more fragmented than the previous ones, like a broken glass that is stained red.

He was in a field of white flowers, a type of flower he had no idea what it was, but it was spreading across everything he could see. In the center, or what he assumed was the center, was Naoya Zen'in, staring at a blank spot.

Turning his head as he heard footsteps. "Hey~," Naoya walked until the figure of a woman appeared. It was... It was definitely strange to be able to see Naoya from a point other than his own.

The woman was startled, but her voice seemed to be nonexistent. Was he repressing memories? Or did Naoya have no intention of remembering something he considered insignificant? The woman hit him, causing Naoya to let go of her hand and touch his nose carefully.

"You should have hit harder," Naoya was behind the woman before she even managed to blink, the darkened face slowly took on color. "Mai". Two voices mentioned at the same time, his, that of his original body. And Naoya Zen'in's.

The field of flowers slowly turning red, the fictitious sky cracking and him being thrown back into the light.

The glow of the moon greeted him once more. "Ugh," he brought his fingers to his temple, which all his nerves seemed to pinpoint as the source of his pain. When he even reached to touch his temple, he felt his nerves boil with pain, reflexively withdrawing his hand. 

"Shit," he touched once more, feeling an object, hard, probably metallic. Had a kunai been thrown at him? What the hell was it? He bit his teeth as he tore the unidentified object from his flesh, his heart leaping as he got a good look at it. 

Fuck.

It was a bullet, he'd been shot. A fucking bullet, the walls would have to be painted with his own blood by now. And, fortunately, the possible concussion kept him from thinking of any more possibilities for his end. – Even though, technically, he was never thinking straight, he still believed he was partially insane –.

"Shit, fuck, fuck, shit, bitch," getting up felt impossible, his body moving in ways he did NOT want it to. The buzzing would never fucking go awa-. WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T THE BUZZING GO AWAY?!

The bullet maybe pierced more than he thought, maybe it was from a quirk. A fucking quirk from a world written for a manga he kept reading just so he could insult the pathetic writing ability and- "FUCK!".

He tripped over a step, falling in such a pathetic fashion that he was thankful for a few seconds that the human body was made to withstand blows. The brain must not be as damaged as he thought it was. Sure, if drooling from minute to minute without noticing it fell into the category of 'being fine'.

And the fact that he was so lucid at the moment of thinking. "Shit," it was always a quality of his, keeping his mind and tongue so on par-, "Cunt," he always kept his mind in check most of the time- Damn, how many stairs was it?

He stumbled even as he entered his room, the destruction he had created was still there, despite having left the door open. No servant bothered to enter? God, Naoya. Genuinely you are a-.

Crack.

He ignored the way his body tensed as he thought he'd been shot again, letting out a sigh as he reassured himself that he was still alive. Bending down to look for the source of the 'crack', picking up a glass and observing himself, again, in the small margin that had been the three hours. 

"I really do look like shit," he wasn't lying, his face was covered in dried and fresh blood, the wound on his temple still open and leaving a trail of blood that wasn't going to heal in a couple of hours, maybe days. 

Breaking.

The crystal was starting to fracture, he thought he had miscalculated its strength, but the fractures seemed too exact, not created from a specific point, but the whole crystal was starting to fracture at the same time.

"Am I hallucinating?", no, definitely not, because the reflection of the crystal, although unstable, showed how in his temple was gathered an energy that flowed like electricity. "Cursed energy," he brought his fingers to the energy, trying to feel the aggressive life form that lived there.

It had to have protected it him from the gunshot, focusing his defense on the bullet not going through his skull. But why was it still gathered there? 

A) It was not able to flow back along his body because of his lack of control over the energy. 

B) He gained the ability to instinctively control the cursed energy by being in a life and death situation, but practically lost control now that he was relatively alive.

C) Cursed energy differs from its counterpart in the Jujutsu universe, does he disregard some rules and try to cure it? Very unlikely.

D) Cursed energy is divided into positive and negative, it is trying to protect from further damage in the area and at the same time heal, but I am unable to even understand the two concepts, so it just stays there.

Maybe his body is just as tough as Itadori's? It would make sense, if Naoya wasn't as useless as he believed – he still believed it wholeheartedly –, it meant that at the very least his body would have to be adapted to the technique- quirk, to his quirk, meaning natural strength and-.

"Fuck," he punched a nearby wall with all his might, ignoring the way he looked like a teenager who wasn't in the slightest control of his emotions. – Technically he is. –

And it hurt, he didn't start bleeding, but genuinely got a response that it hurt, it didn't cause his bones to explode, but the difference shouldn't have been... that much. When he hit the toilet – again like a teenager who doesn't know how to control his emotions, but in his defense, again, technically he was. –

The cursed energy was concentrated in a single spot on his body, leaving him without the physical advantages. But what the hell was he calling it again? When he touched the 'energy', he felt static, a manifested flow of a non-existent temperature. 

But he couldn't find that spark, couldn't find a way to manifest it. Maybe, just maybe, he had to try to repeat the scenario that caused his cursed energy to focus on his temple.

But what classified cursed energy as a threat? What if he gained the ability to manipulate cursed energy on a mere whim of wanting to stay alive and had already lost it?

"But how did I manage to imbue this crystal with cursed energy?", the properties should have been similar to Maki's glasses.

Maki.

Oh, God, Maki.

That name, oh, God. "Jesus Christ," he ran his hands through his hair, ignoring the dried blood and the way his hair was dry. "I was going to kill her," he closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus on getting answers to his cursed energy.

But he simply couldn't. "Oh, God," he didn't feel some kind of doubt at that moment, his cursed energy powering his body was enough to be able to rip her throat out, and worst of all, the thought of blood covering his face didn't... It didn't affect him, even when he was away from Maki.

Naoya was a monster. "I'm different," he repeated a couple of times. And he was sure of it, soul and body were two different concepts, Sukuna was in Itadori's soul, but it didn't mean Itadori was Sukuna. But... How much of Sukuna influenced Itadori's soul and body? 

I shook my head, those thoughts would serve no purpose now, sinking into my despair and questions should be the last thing I should do. 'Cursed energy, cursed energy,' he searched for another crystal amongst the destruction that was his room, picking one up as he looked closely at the one that already contained cursed energy. 

'What if you killed her? A poor, innocent little girl-'

I should... Cursed energy, cursed energy, just... concentrate, damn it, concentrate.

"Shut up," cursed energy is electricity in its purest state, and cursed techniques are the appliances powered by said electricity. "There you are," the cursed energy flowed through his fingertips, touching the crystal and the same event happened again, with the cursed energy beginning to envelop the new crystal, with the fractures appearing once more.

"I am the equivalent of a human in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, my body is expelling cursed energy uncontrollably, that is why the crystal is transforming into a cursed object, but why was my body strengthened? Why naturally and now I am not even able to move it?".

The properties of cursed energy said that... "Argh!", he was genuinely frustrated, and he couldn't even get the blood out of his body as his bath was shattered. "Cursed energy doesn't flow on its own, but how can I flow something you can't even see? And why do I even have cursed energy, no, why exactly do I have so much cursed energy?".

"I don't even know if this body has a quirk, how the fuck do I activate a quirk and at the same time cursed energy?", hell, I had to be the least intelligent to be in such a body.

Maybe in a body like Sukuna, heck, maybe like Gojo I could just be a one man army, destroy the evil organizations of the world and-. "I wish it was that easy", and genuinely it could be that easy, not Batman style where fear ruled more, but literally Gojo or Sukuna, they could rule and destroy everything they didn't consider right, the gorilla can sit wherever they want, "Huh".

I regretted for the fifth time in a row the lack of a bathroom so I could clean myself, the blood was already starting to make me very uncomfortable, and considering Naoya's body, he probably wasn't used to dirt, that morphs into more disgust on my brain's part. "Quirks."

I needed answers, I needed to know where in Japan I was, I needed to know where the Zen'in clan fit in and how the fuck to activate a quirk. Unfortunately, his cell phone – he prayed Naoya had a cell phone – was nowhere to be found, maybe the Zen'in clan didn't allow electronic devices?

"Naoya," he needed his memories, and he was sure the brain was still the same. "Naoya, Naoya, Naoya," he closed his eyes, his fingers touching the crystal. The brain needed certain stimuli to activate to bring to light the memories that lay hidden there.

"Shit," he brought his fingers to his temple – ignoring how the hole the bullet left there still felt –Some memories of Naoya began to flow, but too jumbled, too broken to even give it any kind of interpretation; a computer, please, that's all I ask.

'A hidden compartment, under you, under the bed, it has to move the bed.'

Multiple memories pointed to that compartment, the computer, a model he was unaware of, but stupidly thin for some reason. 'Uh, an apple,' do apple products even exist? Iugh, Naoya, you really had bad tastes.

'Open, careful, turn, don't break, secret, don't reveal, don't expose, don't show, freedom.'

More voices, more memories, he was remembering things from the past in pictures that were morphing into words. "Shut up," he muttered once more to immediately hit the floor, tearing out the entrance to the hidden 'compartment'.

The notebook, thin, white, with gray stripes on the sides and an X sign in the middle. When he opened it, it had the typical, a user name – Yonao – but no password. "So much mystery for no password."

The next hour, he began to search for information, lots and lots of information. First of all, where was it? Musutafu, Japan. He was sure he had never heard of that city, even though he was American, what could he know about geography?

What he knew were laws, too many laws, more than one standing out when he did a couple of quick searches, fortunately, they were still normal laws – within everything – not too complicated, hypocritical in many ways, but that's how they worked. "Article I, section a, Quirks may not be used publicly by any unlicensed hero."

"Rubbish," I focused my eyes on those letters for more minutes than I wanted to, trying to ignore the constant whispers of Naoya's voice. 

Occasionally diverting my gaze to another tab that held a special interest: the Zen'in clan,

One of the most important parts of my research. How were they here? What was their goal? To produce the most powerful hero of all? But the answer was more... Vague than I expected, the Zen'in were supposedly involved with the mafia in some internet news, but they were mere rumors, the fine print of an article trying to gain some extra 'clicks' about the clan's suspicious behavior. 

What was going on with Toji Fushiguro, or was he still Toji Zen'in? 

'Toji Zen'in... Incredible, man, astounding, without a quirk, pathetic, amazing, figure, model.'

"Ugh," he rarely felt the need to express his discomfort, but the way his neurons burst in time-lapses as he began to recall past memories, combined with Naoya's voice was... "Shit-".

The next thing he found was All Might, too much news of All Might, and even if he had doubts before – he genuinely believed he was crazy –, they were all cleared when he saw that blond hair with that smile that seemed to have muscles. 

He was in the universe of Boku No Hero, My Hero Academia for friends.

All Might, the peace symbol documented in hundreds of videos, news, pictures, that was him. "Shit," he was exhausted, the beeping, the voices, the way his brain felt on the verge of collapse. "Though the bullet has more-," he paused for a few seconds, "Boku No Hero."

He'd read enough, and yet he still had so many questions. Why was the beeping in his head still there? Quirk? Cursed energy? 

Naoya.

"What's your Quirk, Naoya," Naoya was still there? There for real, not the vestiges of memories that rose at times, not those thoughts he had at some point, but to exist, to have a say, to be able to do something.

And there was no answer, he waited for a few seconds, minutes, but Naoya limited himself to whispers describing his surroundings, blurting out meaningless insults, words that lay of connection. "Ugh," he let out a small groan.

He ran a couple of searches, some of them leading him to sites of... suspicious origin, others of conspiracies, and more than one were medical reports, all on the same topic: how to awaken a Quirk?

"Parenting Guides: How to handle quirk in the early years in your son/daughter's life," might be... somewhat basic, they filled in the gaps that first-time parents had, would they help? Of course, any information was better than none.

'Especially in our hands'.

Naoya's first meaningful words, but most disturbing of all, who the hell were we? "It's just me, Naoya."

'...'

He didn't say anything, he didn't have the nerve to even think, but he felt like he was laughing, no, no, the bastard was laughing. "Shut up."

'Hehehehehehehehehehe'.

The article explained a lot of things he didn't know, sure, they never explained how to master a quirk in another body, but the conclusion – honestly the most useful thing in all those pages – was that it would have to come naturally when the 'kid', got to be eight years old, maybe younger. "A quirk is still a muscle, it would make sense if it had appeared out of nowhere itself, but Naoya had been alive for over a decade, some training it should have."

'Careful'.

Naoya's voice accompanied by the creaking of the floor was enough for me to slowly close the laptop. Getting up with my fists clenched as I approached the door. The one who tried to kill me came to finish the job?

"Projection Sorcery," fuck, of course, saying it out loud wasn't going to-.

"Zen'in-sama," the same woman as before, the one who hid the scars with makeup, the one who- 'Disgusting'.

I shook my head, ignoring Naoya's voice, the way my body was beginning to lose control once again, the way 'our' breathing was hitching as the woman could only stand there still, trying not to do anything that might upset him, poor thing, she didn't know what-.

"Speak quickly, woman," was she not surprised by my tattered garments? The blood soaking my hair and face? Her voice, once again, seemed to remain in a... "The head of the clan, Zen'in Naobito, requests your presence in the meeting room," stupid neutral tone.

'Pathetic'

"Woman," he ignored the way her body weakened with each step he took, the way the woman's eyes widened at the lack of distance between them. "Tell father to shove that order up his ass-", he had more important things to do, and 'Naoya' wasn't wrong, she really was pathetic-.

"Brother", a tall man, much taller than me, same color blond hair, same eyes and same stupid smile. Oh, God, is there more than one Naoya? "Stop wasting your time and-", he looked me over from head to toe, letting out a small mocking laugh.

"Put on something decent, please," he said before turning away, the maid practically following him like a lapdog. Do I have siblings? Impossible, Naoya didn't have any siblings that I can remember and-.

'HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!? YOU PIECE OF SHIT, I'M THE CLOSEST THING TO A GOD, I MUST KILL YOU, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, BREAK YOU INTO A THOUSAND PIECES!'

"Shit," I grabbed my head – probably the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes – Naoya's voice was doing nothing but yelling nonsense, stopping as soon as I made it out of the room and- saw the first rays of sunlight. How long had I been there? 

Long enough for the blood to stink, long enough for me to be able to hear noises other than my own breathing, long enough for my sight to be surrounded by more people. The Zen'in clan had more members than I thought.

'Shits without quirk.'

Why would the Zen'in clan have members without quirk? It's the closest thing to a cursed technique in this world, and they were more racist than Naoya himself for crying out loud. Law? Work? Wasn't the leader a shit?

With the help of Naoya's fragmented memories I was able to 'remember', the walk to the meeting room, ignoring the stares at my worn out appearance, my kimono worn out from the sudden movements when I woke up and the blood both mine and Maki's.

"Brother," a voice spoke to me – again – as soon as I was opening the door, and it was again a blonde-haired jerk, smaller than the previous one, even smaller than me, but the same shit-eating grin. "Ogito, do you need anything?".

The little shit approached with a towel dipped in water – or so I hoped –. "You got some... Blood, brother," Ogito smiled with all his teeth, staying by my side as I tried to remove the dried blood from my hair. 

"Speak up, Ogito. I'll assume you're not here for the sake of your heart," memories of Ogito flowed in a second; he was not exactly like my other brothers and sisters – do I have sisters? – on the contrary, he was more docile, calmer, innocent in some ways and cruel in others, he was the closest to the servants, brothers and sisters, and even Naobito.

"You need to look presentable, brother", just that? Impossible, why would he help me, Naoya was a jerk in many ways. "Father wouldn't like to hear about your... tantrums-".

'freeloading shit.'

But was he right? This is Naoya we're talking about, this would be the equivalent of controlling the bad guy in the story. And Naoya deserved everything bad that was happening to him, but... He's threatening me, not Naoya.

"Ogito, I'll assume you don't have a suicidal desire for you to be talking to me like this," is it Naoya's confidence? The amalgamation of our experiences to deal with little shits? Or was I always like this and Naoya is giving me freedom?

Philosophical questions came and went for something as simple as grabbing my 'brother's' wrist. "Naoya, Naoya, Naoya... I suggest you set me free this second or I'll see to it that I kill you~".

The piece of shit muttered, getting closer than he wanted, the smile disappearing and replaced by the same Zen'in eyes I'd seen earlier in the manga. 

I threw his towel in his face, later I'd have time to deal with the consequences of having siblings.

'Father.'

It was the first thought that resurfaced from within me as I saw the man sitting at the end of the room, accompanied by a gourd, with two figures at his sides that I would assume were his wives.

'Concubines'.

Oh.

"Naoya, welcome!", Naobito shouted as he continued to drink from the gourd. Is this what Naoya would look like as an adult? God, I hope not.

Left and right, was there a designated seat? Was it the luck of the draw to sit closest? Naoya's memories didn't seem to work with things so minute, so routine. 

I took a seat next to Ogito – when had he come in? – his smile still lingered there as he offered some dry cookies he had 'smuggled' in. I ignored his offerings and concentrated on killing time.

But-.

This meeting was for what exactly? Toji returned to the clan? Impossible Did they decide to surrender to the heroes? Unlikely. Did they become heroes? No-

I felt a little tap on my shoulder from Ogito, what did this little shit want me to see? Oh-

"Hiskahi!"

My eyes widened, not at the white-haired man for whom Naobito had excitedly greeted, quite the contrary, but at his own escort: A pale young man with a thin build, short, disgraced brown hair, most important of all, a black mask.

OVERHAUL.

That means that white-haired man was the head of the Shie Hassaikai. And currently, if Overhaul decides to finish us off after this 'negotiation', there would be nothing I could do to stop him.

Damn.