Jujutsu Kaisen: False Dawn

Yuta woke up on the bench with a start.

His breath hitched. The breeze rustled the trees softly overhead, and the late morning sun filtered down in warm, dappled patches. But he wasn't warm.

He was alone.

"...Huh...?" Yuta muttered, still groggy.

He sat up, his body sluggish, limbs heavy, but something felt... lighter. The weight that had curled itself around his soul every waking hour—the weight of her—was missing.

He looked around, half-expecting to see Ren still there or... Rika floating in the distance with that eerie grin.

Nothing.

Just the bench. The wind. A note fluttering gently beside him.

He picked it up with a shaky hand.

"Yuta,

Don't think about what happened today.

Move on.

Leave the country.

Spend time with your family, and take care of yourself.

—Kintaro & Rika"

For a moment, Yuta didn't move.

Then his hands trembled.

His lips parted, and the tears came. They weren't loud or messy—just soft and quiet, as if his body didn't even have the strength to cry properly anymore. He pulled the note against his chest and whispered,

"Thank you..."

Meanwhile, Ren walked.

Each step was slow, almost meditative, as he wandered deeper into the woods. The same path. The same crooked shrine that had started all of this. It had been a little over a month since he woke up in this world.

Now, everything was different.

His body was sore. Not from any battle, but from change. From growth. From the burden of his own gamble finally paying off.

He sat in front of the shrine like always and muttered to himself.

"Ugh... it's not the full Rika. It's... post–JJK 0 Rika."

That annoyed him.

"I can only summon her for five minutes... and after that, I get a cooldown of an hour? What is this, a shounen gacha game?!"

He exhaled. Then again... when he was at full cursed energy, that cooldown shrank to thirty minutes.

"Still not what I wanted..." Ren grumbled.

His dream of becoming overpowered with an immortal, godlike curse queen following him 24/7? Crushed. That was the old Rika, the broken, god-tier, "I'll slap Geto to the wall" Rika.

This one? Still powerful. Still terrifying. But a boost, not a crutch.

"...Five minutes, huh," Ren murmured, leaning back against the shrine.

But as his mind started to spiral in irritation—

—it stopped.

A shiver ran down his spine.

No, not from the cooldown.

From something else entirely.

Something that had invaded his brain during the transfer.

Information. Symbols. Concepts. Words that didn't belong to him. A cursed technique... a second one. And it didn't take him long to realize what it was.

Ren's eyes widened. His mouth hung open for a second.

Then, he burst into laughter. Loud, dry laughter that echoed through the woods like a lunatic's hymn.

"HAHAHAHAH—oh my God, you've got to be kidding me..."

He slapped his forehead and leaned over his knees, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

"I got it... I actually got it..."

Yuta's cursed technique.

Copy.

A technique that allowed the user to replicate the innate techniques of other sorcerers, but only when Rika consumed their body parts—stronger techniques requiring more vital pieces. And Ren, as he realized, now had both Rika and the conduit for that power.

Only for five minutes.

Only when Rika was summoned.

But still.

A second cursed technique.

A chance to become an arsenal.

He clutched his stomach and chuckled, half out of breath now.

"For five minutes, I'm a damn god."

The wind was quiet. The shrine hummed faintly from the leftover cursed energy in the air.

Ren eventually calmed down and leaned back, his smile softer now.

"She's not the full Rika... but she's still a beast," he muttered. "And more than that... that copy technique..."

He let out a long breath.

"That alone changes everything."

He didn't even know what cursed techniques he could go after now. His brain was already calculating combinations. Bindings. Who he could afford to trick, fight, or devour through Rika.

But then, amidst all the excitement, a name floated to the surface of his mind again.

Yuta.

Ren fell silent.

The memory of the boy—crying, desperate, and so stupidly kind—clung to him like smoke. That note Ren left behind was genuine. There was no irony in it. No mocking tone.

Ren genuinely wanted Yuta to be okay.

He closed his eyes and muttered, "...I'll make sure he leaves this country. He has to. He deserves to live... not fight."

Because Ren knew what was coming.

Sukuna.

The Culling Games.

Kenjaku.

Gojo's fall.

He knew that Japan was going to become a blood-soaked chessboard, and most of the pieces were disposable.

Yuta deserved more.

And now that he was finally free of Rika's curse, maybe he had a chance to live a life before that war came knocking.

"...I took everything from him," Ren whispered to himself, his voice carrying no guilt, only honesty. "At least I can give him back his future."

He stood up slowly and cracked his neck.

His own future? That was still a tangled mess. Rika for five minutes. Copy for five minutes. Weak cursed energy pool. Incomplete cursed circuit. Limited stamina. Weak cursed technique...

But the options now?

So much wider.

And if he played this right...

He wouldn't just survive this world.

He'd own it.