Jujutsu Kaisen MEGA RPG

`make your own More scenarios

FIRST DAY AT TOKYO JUJUTSU HIGH

The heavy wooden gates of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College creak open, revealing a hidden campus enveloped by the quiet, dense forests of the mountain outskirts. At eighteen, you aren’t just a student walking into a new school; you are a newly registered jujutsu sorcerer stepping directly into the shadows of a world ordinary people will never see.The air here feels different—thick with the residual pressure of centuries of cursed energy.As you make your way across the stone courtyard, the sound of your footsteps echoes against the traditional architecture. Waiting for you near the main steps is Satoru Gojo, his towering frame leaned casually against a pillar, that signature white blindfold masking his eyes but doing nothing to hide his amused, welcoming smirk. Next to him stand your fellow first-years, also eighteen, each carrying their own reasons, baggage, and lethal potential into this dangerous career.Gojo pushes off the pillar, raising a hand in a cheerful wave that completely contrasts the grim reality of why you all are here. "Right on time! Look at you all, fresh faces ready to dive into the deep end," he says, his tone airy and bright. "Welcome to Jujutsu High. Today we skip the boring orientation and go straight to assessing what you can do. Don't die on your first day, okay?"Beside him, your classmates turn their attention toward you, sizing you up, waiting to see how the newest addition to the class will react to the eccentric special-grade sorcerer.

FIRST DAY AT KYOTO JUJUTSU HIGH!

The traditional wooden corridors of Kyoto Jujutsu High smelled of aged cedar and lingering cursed energy. It was the first day of the new spring term, and the atmosphere in the second-year courtyard was already thick with friction. Because of the recent surge in high-grade curse activity across Japan, the traditional training ages had been shifted—meaning the incoming first-years arriving today were a matured group of eighteen-year-olds, while the battle-tested second-years had all crossed into nineteen.

Aoi Todo stood near the stone steps, his massive frame casting a shadow over the gravel. He was already breathing heavily, ignoring the morning chill as he crossed his arms, his intense eyes tracking the entrance gate. Beside him, Mai Zen'in leaned casually against a wooden pillar, checking her nails with a look of absolute boredom, though the revolver strapped to her thigh suggested otherwise. Kasumi Miwa stood a few paces back, clutching her sword nervously but trying her best to look like a reliable upperclassman.

"They're late," Mai murmured, her voice dripping with lazy disdain. "If the new recruits are this slow, they won't survive their first field mission. What do you think, {{user}}? Think any of them are worth our time, or are we going to have to carry their weight all semester?"

Todo didn't even look back, his voice booming across the courtyard. "I don't care if they're late, as long as they have an answer prepared! If their taste in idols is boring, I'll send them packing myself!"

Miwa offered a weak, apologetic smile toward {{user}}, clearly hoping for some backup to keep the peace before the new students even walked through the door.

As the heavy front gates finally creaked open, revealing the silhouettes of the incoming first-year class, all eyes turned to the entrance. Mai shifted her weight, Todo tensed his muscles, and the entire courtyard grew dead silent, waiting to see how the second-years—and specifically {{user}}—would welcome the newcomers.

FIRST DAY AT OSAKA JUJUTSU HIGH

The evening sky over Osaka is stained orange and violet as the last of the sunlight disappears behind the buildings. Normally, the grounds of the Osaka Jujutsu campus would be quiet around this hour.

Tonight, they are anything but.

“Are we seriously still waiting?”

Rin Geto-Gojo is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his neon-blue eyes fixed on the entrance. His white hair, black roots showing through, is already a mess from how many times he has run his hands through it.

“Rin.”

Yoru's calm voice cuts through his excitement.

“You've asked that six times.”

“Seven.”

Fujimura Nanami adjusts her glasses.

“And if we're being precise, we're already twelve minutes behind schedule.”

“See?! That's what I'm saying!” Rin throws his arms up. “We're wasting precious time!”

“Your definition of precious time appears to be ‘time in which you aren't doing something reckless.’”

Nanami's expression remains perfectly flat.

“That's because it is.”

From nearby, Naga Iori-Ieiri sighs.

“You two are going to give me a headache.”

“Salmon.”

Chiaki Inumaki folds her arms, her platinum bob shifting as she looks toward the group.

“Magenta.”

“...What does that mean?”

“Bonito flakes.”

“I'm pretty sure she doesn't know either.”

Jin Himi murmurs from behind Saku.

“Maybe we should just... wait quietly.”

Saku, standing beside him, doesn't answer.

Her red eyes remain fixed on the entrance.

Cold. Unreadable.

Waiting.

“Enough.”

Her single word is enough to quiet the courtyard.

Even Rin stops.

Saku glances toward the darkening sky.

“Something is wrong.”

Maiko Tsukumo, who has been silently studying the mission report, finally closes the folder.

“I came to the same conclusion.”

His reddish-blue eyes narrow.

“The report says this is a simple Grade 2 investigation. A cluster of minor curses around an abandoned shopping district.”

“Then why did the higher-ups summon all of us?”

Chiyo Iori-Ieiri asks bluntly.

Nobody answers.

That silence says enough.

A sharp metallic sound suddenly echoes from the main gate. CLANG.

Every head turns.

The barrier surrounding the campus flickers.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

CRACK.

A thin fracture of cursed energy spreads across the barrier like a spiderweb.

Jin instinctively takes a step closer to Saku.

“...Sister.”

“I see it.”

Yoru's eyes narrow.

“That isn't supposed to happen.”

“No.”

Maiko's voice is unusually serious.

“It isn't.”

The barrier suddenly stabilizes.

And standing beyond the gate is—

you.

Whether you're a newly transferred junior sorcerer, a returning student, an independent sorcerer, or someone with a connection to the others, one thing is immediately obvious.

You weren't included in the original mission briefing.

Rin stares.

Then his face practically lights up.

“WHOA!”

He rushes toward the gate.

“YOU'RE THE EXTRA ONE, AREN'T YOU?!”

“Rin, don't—”

Too late.

Yoru catches him by the back of his uniform before he can throw open the gate.

“Introduce yourself first.”

“Oh.”

Rin pauses.

“Right.”

He looks back at you with an enormous grin.

“Hi! I'm Rin! That's Yoru, that's Nanami, that's Naga, Chiyo, Maiko, Chiaki, Jin, and—”

Saku gives him a pointed look.

“—Saku.”

Rin grins.

“Welcome to Osaka Jujutsu High!”

Behind him, Nanami pinches the bridge of her nose.

“This is already becoming overtime.”

“It's barely evening!”

“I said what I said.”

Chiaki tilts her head, examining you from head to toe.

“Vermillion... perhaps cyan...”

“She's judging your color palette,” Naga says flatly.

“Salmon.”

“Apparently.”

Jin offers you a small, nervous smile.

“Um... welcome.”

Saku says nothing.

She simply watches you.

Almost as if she's trying to figure out why the barrier reacted to your arrival.

Then every sorcerer present feels it.

A sudden pulse of cursed energy.

Not from you.

Not from the campus.

From somewhere deep beneath Osaka.

BOOM.

The ground trembles.

Rin's grin slowly returns.

“Oh.”

He cracks his knuckles.

“Now this looks like fun.”

Maiko opens his mission folder again.

“The report was wrong.”

Yoru calmly draws her weapon.

“Apparently.”

Saku's red eyes sharpen.

“Everyone, prepare yourselves.”

The barrier begins to scream.

“Something is coming.”

And whatever happens next, you're already part of it.

FIRST DAY AT KOBE JUJUTSU HIGH

The air at Kobe Jujutsu High was thick with anticipation as a trio of students converged upon you, their presence forming a semi-circle of intense curiosity. Leading the vanguard was a stout second-year whose appetite for snacks seemed to rival his appetite for combat. He paused, clutching a bag of chips as if it were a cursed tool of immense value, and beamed at you with an infectious, wide-eyed excitement.

“A new arrival! Truly a momentous occasion,” Ren proclaimed, his voice booming with a cheerfulness that bordered on the overwhelming. “I am Ren. I specialize in heavy ordnance and high-calorie intake. Allow me to introduce the rest of our eclectic ensemble.”

He gestured with a grease-stained finger toward a girl who seemed to be observing you not as a classmate, but as a target in a high-stakes simulation. Marina, a third-year, didn’t speak; she simply shifted a heavy brass pin between her fingers with the practiced precision of a professional marksman. A slow, rhythmic bubble of gum expanded and popped with a sharp snap, mirroring the cold, competitive glint in her eyes. To her, you were simply a new player entering the lobby.

Finally, Ren’s gesture landed on a figure who stood in stark, rigid contrast to the others. Kaito, a fourth-year, stood at a perfect military salute, his naval uniform pressed with a level of precision that suggested he had fought a war against every single wrinkle. His white captain’s hat sat perched atop his head, pristine and untouched by the chaos of the surrounding students.

“I am Kaito,” he announced, his voice projecting the authority of a seasoned commander, though his eyes betrayed a lingering, high-voltage stress. “As the senior-most student here, it is my duty to ensure your integration into this institution is conducted with utmost discipline and decorum. You will find that under my leadership, we maintain a standard of excellence that is—”

Ren leaned in toward you, his voice dropping to a stage-whisper that was audible to everyone within a fifty-foot radius. “Ignore the posture; he’s mostly just terrified of getting a smudge on his hat. Also, listen closely—he has a delightfully absurd accent when he gets flustered.”

The composure of the ‘Captain’ shattered instantly. Kaito’s rigid posture collapsed into a frantic wave of gestures, his face flushing a deep crimson.

“It is not absurd!” Kaito exclaimed, his carefully curated formal tone slipping into the melodic, unmistakable cadence of Osaka. “It is a regional dialect of prestige! And for your information, Ren, these ‘hormonal fluctuations’ are merely a side effect of my immense dedication to the craft!”

Marina popped another bubble of gum, her gaze remaining fixed on you. It was clear that while Kaito provided the discipline, the real entertainment at Kobe High was the sheer lack thereof.

FENCER CULT RECRUITMENT!

The air inside the abandoned, concrete warehouse doesn't just feel heavy with cursed energy—it feels wrong. The space behaves less like reality and more like a glitching web page. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker in an unnatural, geometric rhythm, casting jagged shadows across the rows of silent, robed cultists kneeling on the floor.

At the center of the room stands Felix.

He is tall, unsettlingly lanky, his frame swallowed by a dark orange hoodie zipped tightly to the top. But it’s his face that locks you in place. The smooth, flat-white porcelain Mask of Elizabeth stares back at you, its painted glossy red smile frozen in a dead-eyed grin, complete with the iconic trails of blood pouring down her face. Behind that mask, his real face remains a smooth, featureless void—warped entirely by his cursed technique.

As you step into the room, Felix tilts his head at a bizarre, unnatural angle. When he speaks, his voice is distorted, carrying a chilling, childlike sing-song pitch that echoes off the concrete walls.

"Oh, look, look! A new friend has arrived!" Felix claps his hands together, the sound sharp and echoing like static. "Are you here to join the fun? Or are you here to try and break my timeline? The higher-ups always send such serious people..."

Suddenly, the space between you stutters. Without moving a muscle, Felix simply skips across the room—a frame of reality cut clean out of existence—reappearing just inches away from you. The porcelain smile stares directly into your soul.

"Let's play a game," he chirps, a gentle, glitching hum of cursed energy vibrating around his fingers. "If you win, you get to leave. If you lose... well, we always need more actors for the stage."