First of all very thanks for creating "as sukuna in invincible" that is where this idea came in my mind, so thanks… Samael_son_of_dawn…
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Starting:-
The first thing I notice is the sound—a low, insistent hum, like a refrigerator on its last legs. It's not loud, but it's enough to drag me out of sleep, my eyes snapping open to a ceiling I don't recognize.
Cracked plaster, water stains spreading like a map of some forgotten country. I blink, heart already thudding in my chest, because this isn't my room.
My room has smooth drywall, a ceiling fan that spins lazily in the summer heat. This place looks like it's one bad day from collapsing.
I sit up fast—too fast—and the room tilts. My hands grip the edge of the mattress, fingers digging into threadbare fabric. It's a narrow bed, shoved against a wall covered in peeling paint.
A single bulb hangs from a frayed cord above me, flickering like it's trying to send me a message in Morse code. I don't know where I am, and that's bad. Really bad.
'Am I Kidnapped?!'
"Calm down," I mutter, my voice shaking. It doesn't sound right—too smooth, too deep, like it belongs to someone else.
I swallow hard, throat dry, and glance down at my hands. They're not mine. Long fingers, pale skin, no scars or freckles.
My hands are rougher, marked by years of clumsy accidents—burns from a stove, a nick from a pocket knife. These are pristine, almost too perfect.
"What the hell?" I whisper, turning them over, flexing them. There's a faint buzz under my skin, a vibration I can't explain, like static electricity but sharper.
It was from my stomach or something I think, and I pulled up my T-Shirt, and there was a Scar mark on my torso, like there was a whole cut or something.
Thinking maybe it was a dream or something and maybe I will wake up again in my apartment if I just pinch myself or touch myself… not in a erotic way of course.
I touched the scar on my torso and… it felt real and just as I was touching it, I took the chance and even pinch myself and the pain hit like a reality check up when I felt it.
My pulse spikes. This isn't a dream. Dreams don't feel this real—don't make your stomach twist like you're about to puke.
I stumble to my feet, legs wobbly but stronger than they should be, and catch my reflection in a smudged mirror leaning against the wall.
The face staring back isn't mine. White hair, wild and sticking up like it's defying gravity. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes—blue, bright, glowing like someone shoved LEDs in my skull.
And a stitches ark on my forehead too…
There was a fucking stitching mark on my forehead too…
I look like… no, I am Satoru Gojo . The anime guy. The overpowered sorcerer from Jujutsu Kaisen. Except I'm not him. I'm me, stuck in his body, and I have no idea how or what… it's like i'm yuta or kenjaku from jjk and I stole satoru fucking gojo body after it got kit kat.
"Oh no," I say, stepping back until my legs hit the bed. "Oh no, no, no. This isn't happening." My hands fly to my head, tugging at the hair—it's real, soft, and way too long.
I spin around, scanning the room for anything familiar. A rickety table holds a cracked phone, a crumpled pack of chips packet and a soda can, and an Id card with a name scrawled on it: Gojo Satoru.
My name's not Gojo. It's—shit, what is my name? I grab at the memory, but it's slippery, fading like smoke. I was… someone. Office… job, maybe? Quiet life? It's gone, drowned out by a flood of new memories that aren't mine.
I sink onto the bed, clutching the Id Card. Gojo Satoru, age isn't specefied but from the looks, body and height it is maybe 24 years old. Xxxx native, born and raised in a neighborhood where you either fight or run.
There was something else too, I can't really pinpoint that but something feels more odder or somewhat normal at the same time… can't really say it in words but if i have to choose a word for it then it is kinda too normal or but also more likely abnormal.
I stood up from the bed and stand in front of a broken mirror and then immediately strip my self of the upperwear shirt and there was the reason and it wasn't a scar or anything… but Six Eyes… and not in my eyes… I mean it was in my eyes too but there were more than six eyes on me, two on my chest and two on my both hand shoulder joint.
The eye on the shoulder is slightly tilted, aligning with the rounded shape of the joint. It appears to be positioned on the upper front part of the shoulder, angled outward.
The eyes on the chest are placed symmetrically, following the curvature of the pectoral muscles. They seem to be angled slightly outward and upward, giving a sense of movement and unnatural awareness.
And I can close and open them just fine like it is natural or something.
Then in a sudden flash, memories hit me in flashes—being in a clan of white hair but it were just flashes of those moments not actual memory, the praises, the weight of an unknown responsibility which he doesn't know.
Living my childhood, teens year, fights, enjoying time with friends, then killing my friend just like I previously said just flashes of memory, then making fun, joking, betrayal of a friend with a different ideology, seeing that friend die, taking students, fighting curses, eating sweets, enjoying time with students, then fighting curses, then joking, then meeting that dead friend once more, being sealed, released from sealed, confronting the fraud, blocked by sukuna, then flashes of the one month before the fight, then the fight, then last flash of seeing sukuna injured and standing from the support of some rubles, and seeing sky once more before darkness.