… This world is strange. The people here are all familiar strangers to her, and it’s quite… disconcerting. Shiki doesn’t think that she’ll ever be able to shake off the sense of wrongness that creeps up on her when she interacts with them.
Even though she knows that it’s not ‘them’ who is ‘wrong.’
… Because ‘Gojo Shiki’ does not exist in this world. There is only one Special Grade sorcerer leading the Gojo Clan, and it’s Gojo Satoru. Head of the Gojo Clan, the Strongest sorcerer in the world, the Honored One.
Those lauded titles are the same as Satoru-niichan’s, but Shiki knows that Satoru-niichan would not have gotten himself caught inside Prison Realm like a fool.
If anything, it’s Shiki who was the foolish one, in this case.
What Shiki previously knew of Prison Realm indicated that the cursed object acted as a sealed prison. To think that it would somehow send her to a parallel reality mirroring her own–
“We’re just as confused as you are,” Okkotsu tells her quietly. Except he’s not the Okkotsu that Shiki knows. That Okkotsu trusts her, respects her. This one looks at her politely, but cautiously.
Shiki understands his wariness. It’s a perfectly normal reaction for a sorcerer to be wary of an unknown element. None of them know her, and she’s somehow replaced their Gojo Satoru. It would be stranger if they weren’t cautious.
Shiki, too, is also cautious in return.
… Because this is a world where she does not belong. A world where ‘Gojo Satoru’ had sealed by Kenjaku inside Prison Realm, using civilians to hamper his actions and the body of Geto Suguru to stir his sentiment–
(Even dead, Geto Suguru is somehow still causing Gojo Satoru trouble. It’s a little maddening, really.)
–and now they’re all in a fine mess, with the country slowly descending into chaos as the veil of secrecy over jujutsu has been single-handedly destroyed by Kenjaku.
There’s a ‘Culling Game’ that’s currently underway in Japan. Megumi has been seized as Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel. Ken-jichan is dead. Tsukumo-san is dead. Tengen-sama is dead. Gojo Satoru is missing.
“I… know that this isn’t your world. We’re not actually the people you know and love, and you don’t have a stake in this mess like the rest of us,” Okkotsu steps in front of her. A polite distance, rather than looming intimidatingly. “You’re probably not impressed with the way that everything’s gone to hell in a hand-basket, either. But. If you’re willing, we could really use your help.”
Shiki tilts her head, “You don’t trust me.” It’s an observation, not an accusation. Admittedly, she’s mildly curious about this familiar stranger’s confidence in front of her.
“Well. We’re strangers, aren’t we?” The edge of the boy’s lips quirk upwards, briefly. “But I’d like to be friends.”
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