In 2001, within a mansion on the outskirts of Kyoto, a maid rushed toward the central room in a
panic.
"Master, Lady Natsuki has given birth safely. It's a boy."
"And Maya? How is she?"
The tall man seated in the master's chair asked calmly, dressed in traditional Japanese attire.
"Lady Maya... she only managed to deliver the child before passing. It's also a boy."
"I see... You may leave. I will visit them shortly."
The maid didn't dare linger and hurried away.
The face of the current head of the Kamo clan, Kamo Kenji, remained unusually composed.
"Maya, rest easy. No matter what happens, I won't let him suffer," the man murmured under his
breath.
Meanwhile, in the delivery room, our protagonist found himself thoroughly confused.
Where am I? Why are my hands so small? And why can't I speak?
The crying of another infant beside him helped piece things together.
Reincarnation. I've been reincarnated... and into a wealthy family, no less.
Kamo Kenji walked slowly toward the delivery room and gazed quietly at the two newborns.
"They're both healthy boys."
The mother beside them, though weakened, forced herself upright when she saw her husband arrive.
"This one is Maya's child, isn't it?"
Kamo Kenji lifted the infant on the left.
"They look so alike... those mysterious, distant purple eyes. Just like hers."
The woman saw this and understood what had happened to her sister. Tears welled in her eyes as she
spoke.
"I will raise them both as my own children."
The man turned and sat down without a word.
"That would be for the best. Give me some time. I will decide on their names."
With that, he left the room and returned to his duties. After all, such was the responsibility of
the clan head. He also had a funeral to prepare.
The following day, Kamo Kenji led more than half of the clan members in a grand funeral for Maya
Kamo.
Though most of the Kamo elders had opposed holding such a ceremony for a concubine the night
before, they yielded to Kenji's firm insistence.
"Unbelievable. A woman of such low standing receiving this kind of treatment. How can the head of
the Kamo clan be so careless with his dignity!"
The elder of the opposing faction and his followers whispered their discontent.
Kamo Kenji ignored them. Holding an umbrella in one hand and the infant in the other, he watched
the coffin being lowered into the ground. Then he spoke solemnly to the child.
"From this day forward, you shall be called Shinichi. Kamo Shinichi. Carry on your mother's will."
Kamo? Then this really is the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. And my mother died the moment I arrived.
What a tragic way to start a life.
Shinichi thought to himself.
But since I've been given a chance in this incredible world, I'll live it to the fullest.
In his previous life, Kamo Shinichi had lived in an ordinary world—one without cursed techniques
or cursed spirits.
The source of all such things had been nothing more than the imagination of a manga artist. But
that story had captivated Shinichi completely, drawing him in despite himself.
It gave him—someone usually cold and detached, the top student at his school—a rare sense of joy.
And so, eager to attend an offline manga convention, he had snuck out of the house. But in his
excitement upon seeing the entrance, he failed to notice the truck barreling toward him at 120
kilometers per hour.
He was struck and killed instantly.
In his final moments, Shinichi was filled with regret—not because he was dying, but because he
never made it inside. He never got to see the cosplays, the artwork, the merchandise of Yuji
Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Gojo Satoru that he had been so looking forward to.
Ah... I was so close. That place. If only I could have reached it...
Oh well. At least I didn't die in cram school or at home. That boring, arrogant, suffocating
place... I never want to go back there again.
As blood drained from his body and consciousness faded, a dark red substance—invisible to ordinary
people—began to coalesce around him.
Had Shinichi been able to see it, he would have recognized it immediately: a cursed spirit born
from resentment. But his vision had already dimmed beyond recognition.
The dark red curse enveloped Shinichi's body and departed, carrying with it a sphere of pure white
essence.
At the same moment, the body of "Shinichi Kamo" lying on that road in the original world finally
went still.
Five years passed in the blink of an eye. Shinichi was now a first-grader.
His brother, Kamo Kenki—born the same day—had already awakened the Kamo clan's ancestral cursed
technique: Blood Manipulation. His status within the clan had risen accordingly.
Shinichi sat quietly in the courtyard of the Kamo estate, eyes closed as if asleep.
"As expected of a concubine's child. So carefree."
"Right? Enjoying such treatment despite having no talent."
A group of young Kamo clan members glared at him with open hostility.
"Why don't we teach him a lesson?"
The short-haired boy, Kamo Ayumu, suggested this to the tallest among them—Kamo Kengen, son of the
main wife.
Kamo Kengen—son of the main wife of the Kamo clan, yet not the candidate for the next clan head.
The reason was simple: he had not inherited the Kamo clan's ancestral cursed technique, Blood
Manipulation.
Instead, he had awakened Blood Puppet Manipulation—widely considered a degraded variant.
It allowed him to control specially crafted puppets using his own blood. However, the greater the
distance or the more puppets he controlled, the less precise his manipulation became.
Additionally, it granted him minor control over blood outside his body and the ability to stop
bleeding from his own wounds.
Before Kamo Kenki awakened Blood Manipulation, Kengen had been the one carrying the clan's hopes.
After all, among the new generation at the time, his technique was the closest in nature to the
ancestral art—and the most powerful.
But everything changed in January 2006, when Kamo Kenki awakened true Blood Manipulation.
The clan head, Kamo Kenji, immediately appointed Kenki as the candidate for the next head. Though
many disagreed, none could argue against the decision.
From that day forward, Kamo Kengen harbored deep resentment toward Kenki's faction—and toward his
so-called "brother," Kamo Shinichi.
"The heir to the Kamo clan, lazing about like this. It seems I'll have to motivate him myself."
Kengen approached Shinichi with a few lackeys in tow, smirks plastered across their faces.
"Hey, Kamo Shinichi. You're far too relaxed. As a member of this clan, your behavior is
unbecoming. Today, I'll teach you what a real battle between sorcerers looks like."
Shinichi, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them—revealing irises like
purple gemstones.
"You're three years older than me, and you're still picking fights? Doesn't that embarrass you?"
Kengen sneered.
"What, you think cursed spirits will feel 'embarrassed' about being older than you when you fight
them someday?"
"Fair point. If you want to fight, then let's get on with it."
Shinichi's tone was flat, utterly indifferent.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Kengen lunged forward, closing the distance with speed that far exceeded others his age.
But to Shinichi, every movement was crystal clear. He could even perceive the flow of cursed
energy wrapped around Kengen's fists.
Too slow.
Shinichi sidestepped the first punch, deflected the follow-up elbow with his forearm, and drove
his own fist into Kengen's nose before the older boy could recover his footing.
In an instant, Kengen was sent flying back a full meter. Blood gushed from his nose.
"You little—"
Kengen was furious and humiliated. Being beaten like this in front of his followers was
unacceptable.
"You asked for this. Don't blame me when you get hurt. Blood Puppet Manipulation—Dog!"
A box behind the group burst open, and two dog-shaped puppets came bounding out. Their bodies were
lined with crimson markings, their eyes glowing red.
"If you beg for mercy and surrender now, I might go easy on you."
Kengen stemmed his nosebleed with his technique and glared at Shinichi.
"If you want me to beg, you'll have to beat me first."
Shinichi's reply was ice cold.
"Fine then. Have a taste of my technique. Dogs—attack!"
The two puppets' eyes flared brighter as they lunged toward Shinichi.
At that moment, Kamo Kenji and the elder Kamo Nobu were walking through the corridor when they
heard the commotion in the courtyard—Kengen's lackeys cheering him on.
They arrived just in time to see the blood puppets charging at Shinichi. Kenji's heart seized; he
wanted to shout for them to stop—
But then he witnessed something he never expected.
"Since you've used your cursed technique, I suppose I can't just sit here and take it."
Shinichi raised his hand.
"Supernova."
Before the stunned eyes of everyone present, a sphere of blood materialized between the two
charging puppets—and detonated.
The puppets collapsed instantly, their bodies riddled with holes roughly five millimeters in
diameter. They didn't get back up.
Kengen stood frozen, his mind blank. Not just because he had lost, but because of what Shinichi
had just revealed.
"Blood... Blood Manipulation... A second Blood Manipulation user! The heavens smile upon the Kamo
clan!"
Kamo Kenji could barely contain his excitement. Even Kamo Nobu, who held no fondness for
Shinichi's lineage, was visibly shaken.
"You're... actually pretty weak. Was that really everything you had?"
Shinichi walked forward calmly, his purple eyes scanning the damage on the fallen puppets.
"Don't underestimate me! I just didn't bring my best puppets today. Next time, I'll definitely
beat you!"
Kengen had stumbled backward in shock, but even now he shouted defiantly at Shinichi.
"Is that so? Then we'll settle it next time. Let's end this here for today."
No mockery. No humiliation. Shinichi simply extended his small hand toward Kengen.
"What's wrong? Don't you want to get up?"
Kengen stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, then slapped it away and scrambled to his
feet on his own.
"I don't need your help. Just wait—next time, I'll make you regret this!"
He fled the courtyard without looking back.
"Boss, your puppets! Wait for us!"
His lackeys scrambled after him, dragging the "corpses" of the two dogs behind them.
"Strange guy. But I suppose I should thank him for giving me a chance to test my technique."
Shinichi dusted off his hands and pulled a bandage from his kimono pocket. He began wrapping his
right thigh—after all, stopping the bleeding was trivially easy with Blood Manipulation.
During the fight, he had deliberately cut his own thigh and extracted roughly 100 milliliters of
blood to form Supernova.
For a five-year-old, even that small amount had a noticeable effect on his body.
"Shinichi."
A voice, both kind and commanding, came from nearby.