Riku Yamadera was, by all accounts, alive. Technically.Eighteen years old. College freshman. Skinny. Black hair. Frosty white eyes that had seen too much and felt too little. His hoodie sagged off his narrow shoulders, the faded text on the back reading like a cosmic joke: "Everything hurts and I'm still alive. Why?"
He moved like a ghost through a world that didn't care he existed.
The cold wind of Tokyo's winter bit through his jeans as he walked to the corner store at 11:43 PM, the only sound accompanying him the crunch of gravel beneath his beat-up sneakers—one shoelace always loose, like it gave up trying years ago. He didn't bother with gloves. His hands were used to the cold. Used to everything, really.
No family. No friends left. Not since the accident that turned blood and glass into funeral flowers. He tried to numb it all with manga, manhwa, webnovels, and whatever bullshit isekai anime he could pirate at 3 in the morning. Fiction was safer. Fiction made more sense.
"Maybe I'll buy ramen. Or die. Either way, better than studying econ."
He muttered to himself as he crossed the street. A neon sign flickered across the block.
Then—Blinding headlights. Screeching tires. Deafening metal.
He turned just in time to see it.
"Wow... what a fucking cliché,"* he thought, seconds before the truck plowed into his ribs and shattered his world.
The Void
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The empty kind. The kind that presses in on your skull like a vice. Darkness stretched in every direction—formless, eternal. Riku floated there, or maybe he fell. He couldn't tell.
Fragments of his life flickered around him like broken film reels.
His mother's laugh, soft and distant.His father's last words.Rain against hospital glass.The smell of burned coffee in an empty dorm.The numb click of "next chapter" on a webcomic at 4 A.M.
He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He just stared into the black, mouth dry, voice hoarse.
"So that's it, huh. Hit by a truck. No superpowers. No cute goddess. Just me and the fucking void."*
A soft clap echoed from behind.
"Daaamn, you really got the worst RNG, huh?"
Riku turned.
And there he was.God.Or something like it.
He looked like a budget office worker from a tropical fever dream. White button-up. Pineapple shorts. One sock. No shoes. A plastic Burger King crown askew on his head. He sipped from a coffee mug that said, "#1 Mistake."
"What the hell are you supposed to be?"
"God. Or Steve. Whichever makes you feel better about the trauma." He waved the mug dismissively. "Look, I'm gonna level with you. You weren't supposed to suffer that hard. Like, the universe does throw curveballs, sure, but your whole life? That was a system error."
Riku blinked.
"...So you're telling me my entire existence was a cosmic fuckup?"*
"Yup."
"Cool. That explains a lot, actually." He folded his arms. "So what now? I get my karma? A reset? A redo? Or do I just rot in your Windows 98 screensaver?"
God—Steve—shrugged. "I mean, I could send you to a slice-of-life world with café dates and beach episodes, but…"
"Let me guess. You're bored."
"Bingo." He grinned, sharp teeth peeking past the mug. "So I'm dropping you into another world. You know it, actually. Lots of cursing. Lots of death. Lots of messed-up teenagers."
Riku's eyes narrowed.
"Don't you fucking say it."*
"Jujutsu Kaisen, baby."
A beat of silence.
"I hate you."
"You're welcome."
Rebirth
Agony burned in his chest.
Cold wind slapped his face. Gravel dug into his back. His limbs felt… off. Smaller. Weaker. Like someone pressed reset on his stats.
Riku groaned, sitting up in the middle of an empty park. Night sky overhead. Tokyo skyline distant.
No cursed energy. No power. Just… a regular-ass human body. And a chill that made his bones rattle.
Then—
[SYSTEM BOOTING…]
A red screen flashed in his vision like a Heads-Up Display in a game.
[Welcome to the Multiversal Gacha System!][One (1) draw available every 24 hours. No refunds. No rerolls. No whining.]
"What the hell is this, a mobile game?"
[Gacha categories include: Skills, Items, Techniques, Physiology, Memories, Weapons, and Characters.][All draws are randomized from the infinite multiverse. No power scaling is guaranteed. Adapt or die.]
"Of course it's randomized. Because my life is a goddamn casino."
[Now initiating: FIRST DRAW.]
[...Rolling...]
[Congratulations! You have acquired: Better Breathing (C-tier Passive Skill)!]
Riku stared.
Then stared harder.
Then facepalmed so hard it echoed.
"Better… breathing? Are you fucking kidding me?"*
[Better Breathing]: Improves lung efficiency by 15%. Great for cardio, swimming, and controlling panic attacks! Yay! 🎉
He stood up and screamed into the void.
"I DIED FOR THIS? I GOT HIT BY A TRUCK FOR FUCKING ASTHMA PERKS?!"*
Birds fled the trees.
[Reminder: One draw available every 24 hours.]
"No shit. I hope tomorrow you give me 'Slightly Better Posture' so I can beat Mahito with my fucking spine alignment!"
And yet, as his breathing slowed...he realized he could inhale deeper than ever before. The cold didn't cut as sharp. His panic eased a little faster.
Still.
"Universe, I swear to God, if this is another joke—"
[That's my line, buddy.]
Riku flipped off the sky.