"Aww, I can't believe they killed him! How could they do that? He's the strongest—no one should be able to defeat him!" a teenager exclaimed as he trudged down a dimly lit street, engrossed in the latest chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen displayed on his phone.

"It's hardly fair! Three against one? That's not a fight—it's a slaughter!" he yelled into the night, clutching the manga volume to his chest as if it could bring him comfort.

"Hey, kid! What are you shouting about at this hour? Go home! You shouldn't be out on the streets so late!" an older woman scolded from the window of her modest apartment on the first floor.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, ma'am!" the boy stammered, bowing apologetically before hurriedly continuing down the street.

"I really should get home," he muttered to himself, shivering as the cold wind rustled through the empty alleyways. "They said on the news there was a murder near here last week. I wouldn't have come this way if it weren't for this stupid manga—only to be disappointed! Now I don't even want to read the next chapter. But what if they revive Gojo...?" he trailed off, conflicted and frustrated.

Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the quiet night.

"KYAAAAAA!"

The boy froze in his tracks, heart pounding. "That sounded like a girl… and it was a really panicked scream. What should I do? Should I call the police?" he muttered, panic creeping into his voice as he glanced around. The street was eerily empty, shadows stretching ominously under the flickering streetlights.

"P-PLEASE, LET ME GO!" The scream echoed again, louder this time, coming from a dark alley just a few steps ahead.

The boy swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he realized someone was in real danger. He glanced at his phone, then at the manga volume in his hand. "No one's around. Even if I call the police, they'll take too long to get here…"

His eyes fell on the open page of the manga, where Gojo Satoru's lifeless, half-severed body lay sprawled, a serene smile on his face even in death. The boy's breathing slowed as he stared at that unwavering expression.

"What would he have done?" he whispered.

A flicker of determination lit his eyes. Clutching the manga tightly, he straightened his back, fists clenched. The fear that had gripped him moments ago began to dissolve, replaced by a shaky but growing resolve.

With one last glance at Gojo's face, he muttered, "I can't just stand here."

Summoning all his courage, the boy dashed toward the alley, his footsteps echoing in the silent night.

When the boy arrived at the end of the dark alley, his breath hitched at the sight before him. A young woman, her clothes torn and her body trembling, was huddled in the corner of the filthy alleyway. Fear filled her wide eyes as she stared at a man standing menacingly before her, his group of thuggish companions forming a loose circle around them.

"Where do you think you're going to run now, huh, bitch?" the man sneered, a lewd grin spreading across his face as he licked his lips. His goons erupted into laughter, their twisted humor echoing off the alley walls as if it were some sick joke.

"P-Please… just let me go! I'll give you all my money, anything you want!" the girl begged, tears streaming down her face as she hugged her knees tightly.

"Who said I want your money?" The man's eyes roamed over her body with predatory intent. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to grab her.

"NO!" the girl screamed, her arms wrapping around herself as though that fragile shield could stop him. Her eyes clenched shut, bracing for the inevitable. But then, she heard footsteps echoing through the alley. Desperate, she turned her head toward the sound, hoping for a savior, only to see a lone figure—a high school boy.

Her heart sank. What could a scrawny teenager do against this group of grown men? Her dimming hope extinguished as quickly as it had flared.

The boy stood at the entrance, panting from his dash. He was barely 5'8", with messy black hair and glasses that framed a pale, nervous face. To the gang, he looked like a joke—a nerd who had wandered in where he didn't belong.

"Huh? Who are you, brat?" one of the goons snarled, stepping forward to intimidate him. "Scram before you end up in the hospital."

The boy swallowed hard, his fear almost palpable. "W-What are you doing to her?" he stammered, his voice shaky. "I've called the police! They'll be here any minute!"

The gang paused for a moment, glancing at one another. One of them muttered nervously, "Boss, it'll be trouble if the cops show up…"

"Are you an idiot?" the boss snapped, glaring at the boy. "He's bluffing! Go beat the shit out of him—but don't kill him. I want him alive enough to regret being a hero."

With a signal from their boss, the goons descended on the boy. Before he could react, a sharp pain exploded in his head as a fist slammed into his temple, sending him sprawling onto the ground. What followed was a brutal assault—kicks rained down on him from every direction. His ribs screamed in agony, his glasses shattered, and blood poured from his broken nose.

"Crack!" The sickening sound of his leg snapping echoed in his ears, followed by a sharp, searing pain. His left eye burned as shards of glass from his broken lenses pierced his skin.

'Why… why did I even do this?' he thought, his mind reeling as the gang's mocking laughter filled the alley. 'I'm not him… I'm not Gojo Satoru. I'm not the strongest. I can't even save one person. How stupid am I?'

Through his haze of pain, he turned his gaze toward the girl. She was on the ground now, the boss pinning her down as she thrashed and screamed.

"No…" he whispered, his resolve sparking to life again. 'Even if I die… I have to save her. No one will cry for me, but someone will cry for her.'

Drawing on some reserve of strength, he pushed himself up despite the searing pain in his broken leg. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he stumbled forward, charging at the boss.

"What the hell?!" the boss yelled, caught off guard as the boy slammed into him, tackling him off the girl. The boy bit down on the man's ear with a feral intensity, tearing through flesh and drawing blood.

"AARGH! Get this crazy brat off me!" the boss screamed, flailing as the boy held on, ignoring the punches landing on his head and ribs. The goons, shocked into inaction for a moment, finally rushed to pull the boy off their boss.

When they succeeded, the boy was a bloodied mess, his mouth stained with the boss's blood, but he was grinning through it all.

"You bit my ear off, you psycho!" the boss howled, clutching the bleeding stump where part of his ear had been. His fury boiled over as he pulled a knife from his pocket and stalked toward the boy.

"I'll kill you, you little shit!" he snarled, plunging the blade into the boy's stomach.

"Argh!" The boy gasped, his body convulsing as white-hot pain radiated from the wound. His adrenaline waned, and the overwhelming agony of his injuries surged back. He collapsed onto the cold ground, blood pooling beneath him.

His vision blurred as he looked toward the girl one last time. She was trembling, tears streaming down her face as she stared at him. He mustered a weak, reassuring smile.

The distant sound of police sirens filled his ears. Relief washed over him. She'll be safe now, he thought, his mind slipping into darkness. With his final breath, his lips moved silently:

"I'm sorry, Gojo… I wasn't strong enough…"

...

When the boy opened his eyes again, he was floating in a vast, white void. The space stretched endlessly, pure and blank, with nothing but an eerie silence to accompany him. He raised his trembling, translucent hands, realizing with a pang that he could see right through them.

"So… I really did die, huh?" he muttered, his voice soft and resigned. Memories of the alley and his final moments flashed through his mind—the girl, the gang, the knife. Despite the pain, a faint smile crept onto his face.

"At least I managed to save her," he murmured. "Guess I finally did something worth remembering… even if no one cares that I'm gone."

He drifted aimlessly in the void, his thoughts oscillating between regret and acceptance. As an orphan, he had always been alone, with no family or close ties to mourn his passing. But at least, he thought, he had left this world doing something meaningful.

Suddenly, a powerful force yanked him forward. Before he could react, the endless void dissolved, and he found himself standing in a strange new place.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process his surroundings. In front of him was an old man seated at a grand, ornate desk. The man's wrinkled face was partially hidden behind dark sunglasses, an odd choice for someone indoors. Behind him loomed a massive screen, replaying the vivid details of the boy's death like a morbid movie.

"W-What…?" the boy stammered, startled. His gaze darted between the screen and the old man.

"You're quite the interesting soul," the old man said, his deep voice resonating with authority. His lips curled into an amused smile as he studied the boy's ghostly form. "Tell me, child, what gave you the courage to risk your life for a stranger when you could barely protect yourself?"

The boy hesitated but then clenched his fists, looking directly at the man. "I… I just did what my idol would have done. I couldn't just stand by while someone was in danger—not when I had the chance to save them."

The old man chuckled, a booming, hearty laugh that echoed through the room. "Your idol, huh? You talk about having 'the power to save them,' but look at you now. You had no power, and it cost you your life!"

Shame washed over the boy as he lowered his head, unable to meet the man's gaze. He knew the old man was right—he had no power. His resolve had been meaningless in the face of overwhelming odds.

"But," the old man continued, his voice softening, "the fact that you stood up, powerless as you were, is what makes you special. You're a kind soul, boy—one this world rarely sees."

The boy glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"You weren't supposed to die," the old man said with a sigh. "Your time wasn't up yet. But since you're here, I've decided to make things interesting. I was going to send you back to your old world, but I've changed my mind." He leaned forward, his smile widening. "I'll reincarnate you into the world of your choosing… with one wish. So, tell me, boy—what is it that you desire?"

The boy's jaw dropped. "Wait, really? I can be reincarnated into any world I want? Like… like in those fanfics I used to read?"

"Yes," the old man replied with a chuckle. "Take your time to decide. Choose wisely."

The boy didn't need time. He shot to his feet, almost knocking over the table in his excitement. "I want to be reincarnated into the world of Black Clover—with the powers of my idol, Gojo Satoru!"

"Ho ho! An interesting choice," the old man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "But there's a catch. The full powers of Gojo Satoru would be too overwhelming for you to handle right now. So, I'll grant you his Limitless Technique and the Six Eyes. The rest of his abilities, you'll have to develop yourself. Also, I'll convert their usage from cursed energy to magic, as that's how this new world works. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" the boy exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "That's more than fair! Thank you!"

"Good," the old man said with a satisfied grin. He snapped his fingers, and a vortex of light swirled around the boy.

"One last thing," the old man called out as the boy began to vanish. "I've prepared a little surprise for you. Have fun, kid."

Before the boy could ask what the surprise was, the vortex consumed him, and he was gone. The old man leaned back in his chair, laughing softly to himself.

"This one's going to shake things up."