So... Where the hell am I?
This is the only thing I can think of as I wake up in what appears to be a bedroom I don't recognize, with strange tattoos covering my body and memories that aren't mine flooding my mind.
The worst thing is, everything feels wrong.
I have my own memories, but now also memories of someone else.
I'm not even in my own damn body! I'm in the body of Megumi Fushiguro!
I'm in the body of a fictional fucking character in a fictional fucking world!
Since apparently because whatever brought me here just said 'Fuck this guy in particular' and threw me in a world with psycho aliens who want to breed the planet!
"Okay, okay, Sam - no, its Megumi now. Fuck! Okay, Megumi calm the fuck down..." I mutter to myself as I grip my head.
Let's back up and check the facts.
1) I am in a fictional - who apparently isn't so fictional person's body.
2) I am apparently Sukuna, since I have his memories (also, absolutely disgusting, I remember him eating people.)
3) Megumi isn't in here, its only me (Thank God!)
4) I am in the Invincible universe...
"Fuck my life... Why?!" I yell out in frustration.
Fuck it, let's at least see for myself how I look. I push myself up and examine my reflection in a nearby mirror.
The face looking back at me is young, maybe 17, with sharp features and those unmistakable markings across my forehead and body.
The tattoos that once marked Sukuna now adorn my skin, giving me the appearance of someone who's been through the system - juvenile detention, probation, the works.
"Damn..." I mutter, flexing my fingers and feeling the immense power coursing through them.
Every movement feels charged with an energy - cursed energy - that is so familiar yet in a sense unfamiliar, remembering being with it for decades, yet also never having had it before.
As I sort through the memories they continue to align themselves in my head.
I'm a high school student at Reginald Vel Johnson High, the same school as Mark Grayson.
In this world, I'm known as Megumi Fushiguro, a former juvenile offender now on a strict probation program that requires community service and regular check-ins with my probation officer, Ms. Chen.
The tattoos aren't just for show - they're remnants of my past, from a time when I ran with one of the local crews.
According to my memories, I've been clean for almost a year, though my reputation still follows me.
I attempt to calm myself by exploring the modest apartment that appears to be my home. I don't live alone - there's evidence of an adult presence.
Photos show me with an older man who must be my uncle, my legal guardian according to these implanted memories.
He works night shifts at the hospital, which explains his absence now. A note on the refrigerator reminds me about my meeting with Ms. Chen tomorrow and to "stay out of trouble."
Then I realize that there's no time to wonder about any deeper meaning; I need to get ready for school.
Since I am here now, I need to adapt fast. Panic won't help. Cursing won't help. I need to return to my calm, collected, analytical self.
I quickly shower and dress, opting for the school uniform but wearing it with deliberate dishevelment - shirt untucked, top buttons undone, revealing just enough of the tattoos to maintain my image.
I can't just change overnight, and this reputation might be useful while I figure things out.
I bolt down a quick breakfast, every movement more fluid and powerful than should be possible for a human body.
The memories tell me that I've been in this world for years, growing up as Megumi Fushiguro, but with a different backstory than the anime character.
Here, I'm known as a former troublemaker who's trying to walk the straight path - not entirely by choice.
My probation terms are clear: stay in school, complete community service hours, and avoid any connection to my former associates.
But there's more to it. According to these memories, I've been using my mandatory community service to actually make a difference.
The judge who sentenced me recognized something in me - potential, maybe - and assigned me to a youth outreach program run by Mr. Washington, a former cop who specializes in rehabilitation.
Under his supervision, I've been helping maintain order at community events, using my street knowledge and reputation to keep things peaceful without resorting to violence.
It's a delicate balance, one that keeps me out of juvie while allowing me to do some good.
And somehow, this version of me became friends with Mark Grayson.
I grab my backpack and head out, locking the apartment behind me. The morning air is crisp, and I can sense everything around me with supernatural clarity - a benefit of cursed energy's enhancing abilities.
As I walk toward school, I search through my memories for how this unlikely friendship formed.
Ah, there it is.
It had been during freshman year. Mark, the perpetually late, perpetually ordinary son of Omni-Man, had been cornered by some seniors looking to establish dominance.
Nothing too serious - just the usual high school intimidation. But I had intervened, not out of any heroic impulse, but because I hated bullies. Always had.
"Four against one seems unfair," I had said, stepping between them and Mark. "Unless the one is me."
They had backed down - my reputation already established even then. And Mark, instead of being afraid or resentful of being "saved," had simply thanked me and offered to buy me lunch.
"You didn't have to do that," he'd said. "But I appreciate it."
"I didn't do it for you," I'd replied. "I just can't stand assholes."
He'd laughed, and somehow, that had been the start.
What cemented it was what happened a few weeks later. I'd been caught in a situation - some of my old crew trying to pull me back in.
Outnumbered and trapped in a corner, I was preparing for the worst when Mark showed up. No powers then, just a skinny kid with more courage than sense, standing beside me.
"Thought you might need a hand," he'd said, trying to look tough despite being terrified.
We'd managed to talk our way out of it - though it was a close call - but something had solidified between us that day. A mutual respect.
He never asked about my past, and I since then never pressed him about his father - who still no one knows is Omni-Man.
We were just two kids who found common ground in comic books, bad movies, and a shared hatred of bullies.
Now, years later, we're still friends, despite being opposites in almost every way. Mark is the straight-laced, perpetually optimistic good guy.
I'm the reformed troublemaker still walking a tightrope. But it works.
As I approach the school, I spot him waiting by the entrance, checking his watch with that perpetually worried expression. Always afraid of being late, that one.
"Megumi!" he calls out, waving. "Thought you might not make it today."
I approach, nodding in greeting. "Had a strange morning," I reply, which might be the understatement of the century.
"Everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his eyes. That's Mark - always caring about others, even the school's former delinquent.
"Just weird dreams," I say, falling into step beside him as we enter the building. "Nothing important."
"Well, heads up - we have that physics test today, and Amber was looking for you. Something about the community center project."
Right. Amber. Mark's girlfriend in the original timeline. According to my memories, she's not with him still, though apparently, she coordinates with Mr. Washington on community projects.
The current initiative is a neighborhood cleanup in a troubled area, and I'm part of the student volunteer team - not by choice, but as part of my mandated service hours.
"I'll find her later," I say, adjusting my backpack. "How's your dad?"
Mark shrugs. "Same as always. Busy saving the world."
Yeah, I know the secret about his father being Omni-Man. Can't be that good of a friend if I don't realize it.
If only he knew though.
The memories of Sukuna whisper in the back of my mind, reminding me of the power at my fingertips.
I could tell Mark the truth about his father right now - warn him about what's coming.
No, that's stupid. The hell? This isn't like me. I don't make mistakes, I'm better than that.
Right now even bringing attention to Nolan about his past would make me a target that might even be killed, and besides, that might make him act sooner than in the original timeline.
'Okay, again, freaking out isn't the best strategy,' I mutter in my mind, trying to channel some inner peace.
'Gotta think this through. Viltrumites are OP, but cursed energy is no joke either.
I as far as I know can't go against a Viltrumite head on, but with strategy, and all these abilities - especially the Ten Shadows and Shrine which I instinctively know and feel having - I can make something work.'
I glance at my hands again, clenching and unclenching them.
The cursed energy thrums beneath my skin, a feeling that grants me a bit of calmness, knowing that I at least have some capability to protect myself in this world.
It's different from Sukuna's raw, destructive energy. There's a finesse to it, a control that comes with being Megumi, even if Megumi in canon was just a backseat driver in his own meat-wagon.
'First things first,' I continue to think, as I walk with Mark.
'Figure out the extent of my abilities in this world. Can I summon Mahoraga?
Probably not a good idea to test that out till I am sure I can defeat him and am in a completely desolate area.
The other shikigami are also a thing - the dogs are by default tamed, but what about the others? I need practice - a lot of it and in private.'
Mark, oblivious to the internal war raging inside me, continues to ramble about the physics test. "Seriously, Megumi, you gonna be okay for this? You looked kinda out of it back there."
I force a nonchalant shrug. "I'll manage. Besides, physics is just applied jujutsu, right?" I immediately want to facepalm. Smooth, Megumi. Real smooth.
Sukuna's jujutsu obsession - I need to control my damn tongue.
Mark raises an eyebrow, clearly confused about what the hell I'm talking about. "Uh... sure? If that makes sense to you."
We reach our lockers, the familiar clang of metal echoing in the hallway. As I spin the dial on my lock, I can't shake the feeling of being watched.
Not in a Viltrumite-invasion-level threat kind of way, but more like... teenage drama kind of way.
I glance around, and my eyes land on a group of girls huddled near the water fountain, whispering and giggling.
Amber is among them, and she catches my eye, offering a small, tentative smile.
"Crap," I mutter under my breath. "Time to check in about Saturday."
Mark follows my gaze. "Oh, you gonna go talk to them about the cleanup?" He grins, but I catch the slight tension in his voice, the way his eyes linger on Amber just a moment too long.
Seems he's got a crush on her just like in canon. Great.
I roll my eyes. "Don't get your hopes up, Grayson. I'm just fulfilling my obligation to Mr. Washington."
I need to maintain my cover and keep things as normal as possible. The last thing I need is to draw attention by suddenly changing behavior.
"See you later, Mark," I say, heading towards the group of girls. "Gotta go check in with the volunteer coordinator."
As I approach, Amber's smile widens, though there's a professional distance to it. "Hey, Megumi!
Mr. Washington wanted me to confirm you're still on for Saturday's cleanup. He said your probation officer called to verify your hours."
I nod, trying to appear interested but not too eager. "Yeah, I'll be there. So, what's the plan this time?"
While Amber launches into a detailed explanation of the cleanup route and supply distribution, my mind races.
I need information. About the Viltrumites, about the local heroes, about anything that can give me an edge in this upcoming conflict.
"Sounds... great," I say, cutting Amber off mid-sentence. "Look, I'm supposed to help with security, right?
Mr. Washington mentioned something about coordination with the community liaison officer. Any updates on that?"
Amber's expression turns serious. "Officer Rodriguez will be there, but Mr. Washington mentioned there have been some issues with the Purple Dragons lately.
They've been trying to muscle in on some of the local businesses near the cleanup site."
Purple Dragons, huh? Not exactly super villains, but a good starting point. "Alright," I say, a plan forming in my mind. "I'll talk to Mr. Washington about it after school."
This world may be insane, but I'm not going down without a fight. And if I have to play the part of a reformed delinquent to survive, so be it.
Sukuna's memories might be a curse, but this new life I've been dropped into? It might just be my saving grace.
Time to get to work.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the first chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
Before anything, I wish to say that this fic will possibly have AU elements, so be warned about that.
So yeah, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)