Transmigrated to Jujutsu Kaisen

II: Tipsy Daisy

It was all just a dream.

"Hey? Oh my god, I was so worried you weren't waking up!"

Everything was blurry when I regained consciousness which I, for some reason, wished I didn't. The last memory I had was of Geto telling me to rest and wait for Yaga to come, but when I woke up, the sorry face of my cousin was the first thing I had to see.

"Why are you here?," I whispered as if some greater being would hear us and drag her back to reality while I stay in the JJKverse.

A hard slap full of annoyance and perhaps concern landed on my forehead. My cousin's lips quivered, but she maintained a sharp glare as she scanned me up and down. "My god, I thought you somehow got tired of your one-sided affection for those anime boys of yours that you finna decided to run into some truck to reincarnate or what!"

The continuous flow of an isekai storyline from her mouth made me raise a brow. My cousin had always been an avid K-pop listener, uncaring to the other wonders of the world, because as she said– "Felix is enough."

But now, she was finally acknowledging the existence of truck-kun and the whole isekai cliche. Was she perhaps a secret manhwa reader or something?

I held my breath for a short while and closed my eyes tightly to contain this unsought frustration. A heavy sigh left my lips when reality dawned on me, followed by a lump on my throat. I cleared it up by swallowing and then sighed again. "I knew it was too good of a dream to be true."

"What are you talking about?" My cousin turned to me with uneven brows. "Get up now, I thought you're going to study for a test?"

And just when I thought it couldn't possibly get worse.

Spreading my arms and legs over the firm mattress, I closed my eyes momentarily and succumbed to the comfort of my bed. Despite it being the place I'd always love to stay in, I felt empty somehow, and that was the first time it happened.

Just now, in my dreams, I was with Gojo, Geto, and Shoko. Yet to meet Nanami, Haibara and Yaga sensei. I couldn't help but laugh at how silly those thoughts were, but I noticed how bitter my chuckles sounded. I couldn't help but grimace, trying so hard to keep the hot stream welling beneath my eyelids from falling.

If my life were ever a book, the readers would either sympathize and cry with me or ask whichever energy drink I overdosed in. They'd probably think I was severely dehydrated that even my mind's prefrontal cortex was already as dry as the last thing I made in the kitchen.

What a sad little thing.

No, really. If my life were ever a book, I'd entitle today, "The Complete Delusional Fuck up."

With those thoughts in mind, I sightlessly scrambled for my journal above my head without bothering to sit up. I pulled on the smooth thick cover that came in contact with my fingertips and held the light blue journal before me, covering the light from the ceiling.

I remembered buying it because the color reminded me of Gojo's eyes.

In my dream, he was far more annoying, far more childish, far more... normal. He was more ordinary than I expected. It could be because I understood his thoughts and pain from the narrator's perspective, but I saw him more as a human now.

On the other hand, Geto was just otherworldly. His temperament and the tone of his voice was something that would stick on anyone even after hearing it just once. He was an exceptional talker. He would've done well as an instructor– something the whole JJK fanbase could agree on.

Flipping my body so I could put the journal down and write comfortably, I also snatched a pen and began narrating everything I remembered about the dream. That was the least I could do. The memories, though vague and illusory, were memories I wanted to treasure and return to. Maybe, when I finally move on from this stage, I could look back at it and have a good laugh.