Chapter Text
Nothing about you had ever really been extraordinary. You fit into the mold of your average, mostly competent adult, maybe accompanied by a few hiccups along the way. That was, until you had died and come back to life. That was extraordinary.
Because, of course, count on someone who wasn't even into the isekai genre to fall prey to one of its clichés. It wasn't even an automobile accident that did you in, though that would've been a lot more exciting. But at least the way you died had been far more peaceful. After a period of not being able to sleep, you went and obtained a prescription for sleeping pills, misread the label, and unthinkingly popped way too many.
You shuddered just thinking of it. Natural selection would've taken you out far faster if it weren't for the technological advances of the twenty-first century. It was lucky, probably, that you had a second chance in the form of a little Japanese girl. Although that reeked of suspicion, because Japan? You? But you didn't see any big fights in Tokyo, nor did you see anything weird in the news, so it was probably just coincidence. Coincidence you landed in Japan, coincidence you had your past memories.
"Rika, are you still getting dressed?" Your mother hurried into your room, already all dressed up. "Goodness, you know we can't be late for these auditions. I can only do so much to get you the opportunity in the first place, so you need to pick up the slack too." She buttoned up your jacket for you, picking you up in her arms.
Right, the whole Rika thing. If it were possible, you would've vehemently denied being named Rika, of all things. Sharing a name with Rika from Mystic Messenger didn't exactly rank high on your wishlist. "Do we have to? I don't like auditions."
Your mom had since carried you into the back of your car, telling the private driver where the audition for some upcoming movie was taking place. "There you go, saying that again," she said, fussing over your hair and turning your face this way and that, as if looking for imperfections on your tiny little face. "Mommy's doing what's best for you, okay? All the other kids your age want to be famous stars too, so why don't you want to?"
"I'm not interested," you repeated, but you already knew how it'd turn out.
Sure enough, your mom refused to hear a word of it. "You just haven't fallen in love with acting yet, Rika. And it's not like you're not talented either. Why don't you just try it out?"
She phrased it like a question, but it was anything but. Mizuno Miyu was a famous actress in her own right, with beautiful and evocative performances that had brought her nation-wide acclaim. Her husband, Mizuno Ichirou, was an equally famous actor that had begun branching out into directing. And then there was their daughter, Mizuno Rika, budding child actress. Only you really had no interest in the big screen at all, and any acting ability you had was either the result of being older than you looked or the numerous coaches your parents had hired for you in an attempt to mold you into the perfect child star.
For now, you had very little agency. Six was too young to voice any disagreements with their parenting, and you weren't keen on pulling out the reincarnation card just yet. Back to auditioning it was, under the watchful gaze of your mother. She put on a pretty face, but the way her fingers would tighten around your arm when you disagreed was...disconcerting, to say the least.
The audition hall she brought you to was clean, walls painted a neat pastel color with tasteful paintings hung up along the hallways. The specific room she brought you to was clean of furniture, save for a few seats in the back for the kids and their parents. Up ahead sat a row of bored looking adults. Some drank coffee, some looked off to the side, and some flipped through some pages. Only the one sitting in the middle, a young man, perked up seeing your mother walk in.
"Mizuno, nice of you to make it! Luckily, you're just on time. Why don't you go take a seat there? We'll be having you go last since you did arrive last. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever." Your mother smiled brilliantly. She had that going for her, at least, stunning looks even after giving birth. "Let's take a seat, Rika." She pulled you to the very end of the row of seats, letting you sit down before she grabbed the chair next to yours.
"Alright. Itou Koharu, you're up first." In front of a dozen or so children with their guardians, a stone-faced girl around your age stood up, accompanied by an older woman. "Here is the portion we'd like you to read."
She took the sheets of paper passed over by the young man, flipping through them once before raising her head to begin her performance. The girl was surprisingly good, but softly, you mother tutted. "Goodness, he's always been so...unorthodox. First time I've heard of inviting an unknown girl to a closed audition."
"I'm unknown too," you quietly replied, as Koharu continued speaking, voice carrying throughout the room.
"That's because I've only taken you to two other auditions." Your mother didn't seem very off-put. "Besides, you're my daughter. Yasuhi and I go back, so of course I could get us in here. But I've never so much as heard of that girl there."
It was a wonder your mother could keep her voice down, given her propensity to project. But Itou Koharu wrapped up her performance, and as expected, the only person who looked as if he had paid any attention was good old Yasuhi. "That was great, thank you! Next up, can we get..."
The next couple of auditionees were faces your mother did recognize, but she clicked her tongue at each one. "They don't have much talent, but they're cute," she explained, as if you wanted to hear. As if the young child you were pretending to be was supposed to be hearing that sort of thing from a parental figure. You were starting to get the sinking feeling that were it not for your already intact moral compass, you'd have one fucked up childhood.
Finally, they reached you. "Finally, Mizuno Rika, please?" Your mother pulled you up instantly, acting a lot more excited on your behalf than you had ever been. She walked you to Yasuhi, who handed you the same script. "Alright, show us what you've got."
Just as Koharu did, you flipped through the pages, skimming through the lines before standing back and clearing your throat. You had always thought of just doing a bad job and making sure you never went to another audition again, but something in your mother's expression told you it was a dangerous move to make. So you held it in, and launched into the best performance you could give.
"You did wonderful!" your mother exclaimed on the way home, as she pulled you out of the car and into the house. "I'm sure you'll get the role. I just knew you were born to be an actress."
"And if I don't want to be?" you spoke carefully, testing the waters. Your mother turned around, eyes still curved sweetly. They opened, and you could see a hint of something cold in them that sent shudders down your spine.
"You will be," she insisted, clasping your little hands in hers. Her hands slowly traveled up, until they cradled your cheeks. Her palms were icy cold. "Mommy knows what's best for you. Besides, you're doing so well already—you wouldn't want to disappoint me or your daddy, right?" Her forehead met yours, but it felt less like a cute bonding moment and more like her eyes drilling into yours, looking for the first sign of childhood rebellion.
You were still young. There was little you could do, especially considering your parents' sterling reputation. And it wasn't like they were starving or hitting you, just molding you into a child actress, so you bit the bullet. "Okay," you said, nodding. You were at least mature enough to pick your battles, and this was one you were wholly unprepared to fight. "I'll keep auditioning and acting."
"Good girl." She released her hold on you and stepped back, lips pulled into a sweet smile. "Let's not keep your father waiting. I'm sure he'll want to hear about how good you did."
Of the two parents, you weren't sure which you preferred. They were both the same in that they had pretty, disarming smiles with something sharp beneath the surface. Your mother spoke in honey-laced words, and your father had a more blunt, confident nature to him.
"Good job!" He nodded at you, setting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks to even clap. "You know, when your mother was still pregnant with you we just knew you'd be made for this. And look at you now, about to get your first role!" He pulled on your cheek and you resisted the urge to slap his hand away.
"Nothing's been confirmed yet," you replied, the only voice of a reason in a family far too passionate about film and acting. "The girl that went first was good."
Your mother scoffed, waving her hand back and forth. "As if. You think a girl with no backing can land a role in one of Yasuhi's movies?"
"Don't be so cynical, honey. That being said, Yasuhi has a good eye. There's no way he'll pass over you. Isn't that great? You'll have screenwriters and directors begging you to consider their works after this."
Was something wrong with their heads? There was no sense in being this confident, especially because the majority of your acting chops came from your many years of living and not natural talent like they wanted to believe. "Okay," you replied. Maybe they were just going to milk their kid for publicity. Maybe they just didn't have any clue how to raise a kid like a kid, and not like an associate.
That was probably the root of the problem. Once it was announced you had gotten the role, their perspective seemed to be more dead set. When they weren't taking on their own roles, they hounded you during filming, keeping a close eye on you and the people surrounding you. School was practically forgotten about in their rush to shove you in as many roles as possible.
By your fourth movie, your mother started taking less roles and focused on managing you. "You need to be the best," she would insist after every bad take. "You understand? I was never anything less than perfect. I expect the same from you."
That's a really loaded thing to tell an eight year old, you wanted to say, but held back. "I understand," you replied, and repeated the same thing in your chest. Ten years. Ten years until they no longer controlled your every move.
It wasn't like you hadn't tried to remove yourself from the situation either. Every time you voiced an objection, whether it was asking to not miss any more class, suggesting a break from filming movies and TV shows back to back, or even straight up asking if they really intended on making you act for the rest of your life. The answer to the last question was always a yes.
It wasn't like you were suffering a daily hell, in any case, but that was likely because you hadn't acted out. But you really had to admit that were you a normal child with no concept of what was actually normal, you'd have developed some real deep-rooted issues.
Perhaps the worst they had gone was vague threats. If you refused to act in an advertisement, they'd make a show of taking away your phone or laptop. If you questioned their goals, they'd threaten your schoolwork. Of course, if you wanted to break away from their influence, you'd have to get your own money and do well academically and get into a good university. There was that, and how manipulative they could be, but that always fell short. What was the use of gaslighting if you could read their intentions from a mile away?
They were world class actors, sure, but at this point so were you. Everything they made you act in only added onto your fans, who could be kind of weird at times, but they were good people. That, and any haters would eventually be stamped out if not by your parents then your fans, who would talk about how there was no point in hating on a young child.
Besides all that, they also controlled your social life. "A scandal can ruin you," your mother would repeat, hands tightly clutching your shoulders. You didn't have a single school friend, nor anyone close to you who could offer you positive affirmation. Not really an issue, but you really had to wonder just how messed up a kid experiencing this would turn out. Lonely, for sure. Maybe a little paranoid. As it was, you had enough maturity and patience to keep everything in, waiting to turn eighteen.
You bided your time. Slowly, but surely, the years passed on, as did the list of titles in the filmography section of your Wikipedia page. Movies, TV shows, video games, you did them all. Not exactly willingly, but it was good getting to meet a great variety of people. And finally, on your eighteenth birthday you asked for a small party with just the two of them.
They at least seemed cheerful about it. "Did you hear? You might be receiving an award for your most recent movie," your father declared, as you dug around the kitchen for a knife for the cake.
"That's a wonderful birthday present," your mother added. You found a knife and carried it over to the dining room table. "Why don't you wish for that? I don't see anything else you might need."
Bold words to say to someone holding a knife. "It's good you guys are excited," you calmly replied, plucking the package of candles out of your father's hands to start poking into the cake haphazardly. "You sure there's nothing else you want me to wish for? Maybe for your hairline to stop receding, mother?"
"Again with the jokes." You had long gauged how far your parents were willing to let you go, and right now was well within that range. "You really do take after me, don't you?"
"Certainly not just in my looks." As you matured, you started looking more and more like her. Being pretty had its own uses, you had decided, but not when you looked like a manipulative excuse for a parent. You struck a match against the matchbox, and slowly lit each candle as your parents watched on. Perhaps they thought themselves kind, for giving you such a well deserved break on your birthday. "Don't worry, I won't make you sing."
Let this all work out. You blew out the flames afterwards, before plucking out the candles and setting them on a napkin to throw away later. It didn't take too long for you to carve out three slices of cake, and you sat back down with yours in hand, taking a bite. Good, your parents hired some expensive French patissier to make the cake.
"Anyways, I've waited long enough. I actually have quite a bit to say since it's my eighteenth birthday!" You set your fork down and clapped your hands together. "First of all, I'm quitting acting entirely. I've always hated it and I don't know if you know or not, but I've been accepted into the psychology department of Tokyo University. Also, I'm going to need you guys to start giving me my royalties from acting now. It's not like you'll need my income anyways, so it'll be better off with me. These are really basic terms, by the way, but if you fail to comply I'll be forced to seek legal action. Oh, I'm going to legally change my name too. Mizuno Rika is associated way too much with you guys and all those acting exploits. But I think that's all!"
They didn't speak for a long time. Processing your words, no doubt. "This is a poor idea for a joke," you mother finally said. "Surely you can think of something better?"
"You'll find I'm not joking at all," you easily replied. "What was it you always say? 'A scandal can always ruin you'? I'm sure you wouldn't want to find yourself embroiled in a rather nasty one, especially with how closely you watch your reputation."
"So you've finally learned how to speak back." Though your mother's voice was calm, you could see the hints of anger looming over her features. "I always knew you were a disappointment."
"Be careful, that's what we in the industry might call confirmation bias." You angled your head towards your father. "You've always been the more reasonable one. What do you think?"
He smiled too, but it was stifling. In a room of three, not a single smile was genuine. "Why should we? Do you really think you can seek legal action for any of that?"
You swallowed the rest of the cake before getting to your feet, stretching casually. "Of course I do. Not to worry, I really don't care enough about you guys to try to get you guys to see reason. Have fun! I'm heading out to a hotel." Before they could protest, you walked upstairs to your room, pulling a large suitcase out of your closet. You lugged the thing down the stairs, pushing it along to the entrance as you parents stood, following after you.
"I'm leaving," you said, pointedly opening the door. Your mother quickly grabbed your shoulder, and you stopped to stare at her.
"You're leaving just like that? We raised you from birth, and you want to act ungrateful now?" Though not quite seething, any trace of faux sweetness had left her face. "What have I not sacrificed for you? I gave up my own career just to be your agent!"
"I never asked you to. I've also asked multiple times to quit, but you insisted and would threaten me with my own things if I refused to act." You made a wry expression at her as you pried her hand off your shoulder. "In the grand scheme of things, it's not like you hit me. Unfortunately, I tend to hold grudges. Oh, and don't bother contacting me anymore."
"Rika!" your father called, as if that name meant anything to you.
"Rika yourself," you told him, and then you pushed your suitcase out the door and shut it behind you. They had too much pride to shout at you from the doorway, and thank god for that. With your own bank account, one you had kept secret from them, you checked out a room at a decent hotel and spent ten minutes lying on the bed, before you sighed and got back up, digging around in your bag for your phone.
The number took a moment to connect. "Hello?" came the familiar voice on the other end, and you smiled to yourself thinking of how your revenge would come to fruition.
"It's me. Remember that juicy scoop I promised you? If you have time to meet me now, let's talk about it."
A month or so later, you managed to get everything sorted out with lightning speed. Your parents had been thoroughly slandered, you had the majority of the media on your side, and they all accepted you quitting with remarkable grace. Then again, the reporter you had chosen for the job had written the story to wring out every ounce of pity anyone could possibly feel.
Your name was legally changed to your old one, you were doing a pretty good job with university, and you had a steady stream of assets coming in from all the franchises you were forced to act for. Really, maybe it was a good thing they made you take on so many roles after all, if it meant you already had more than enough for tuition.
"E-excuse me, could I get your autograph?" you roused from your thoughts to see one of your classmates approach, surrounded by a group of friends for moral support.
"Sure! Who should I make it out to?" You wrote down her name as she asked, signing off with Mizuno Rika. Although your role as her was over, you still didn't mind using her name for things. Like signing autographs, considering what they wanted was the actress Mizuno Rika and not you.
"Thank you so much!" She hugged her notebook to her chest as her friends teased her, and together they walked off, leaving you to pack up on your own. Being able to walk around on your own, make your own decisions...for the first time since your original life, you felt alive.
Of course, that was all in the past. Now, a few years later, you had since graduated early, successfully defended your thesis, and picked up a nice new position as both a foremost expert as well as a professor of developmental psychology. Your then popularity had died out as you firmly stayed out of the media, and besides the occasional "where are they now" article for child actors, you had finally escaped your days of stardom. Any traction you gained now was solely due to your research and publications, and even then you were more of an underground academic figure, if anything. There'd be one or two Tumblr posts mentioning you, because of course there would be, but that was the extent of it.
You had a lecture to make, but the sight of crepes being sold on the street suddenly pulled your attention in, and without thinking you stumbled backwards, getting in line. Tokyo University was already blessed having your presence, surely being a little late was nothing.
After waiting a little, your patience wore out and you took out your phone, scrolling through social media. Once it was your turn you placed your order, stepped to the side, and coincidentally made eye contact with the man waiting behind you. Without thinking, you jerked and instinctively let out a, "Aren't you—"
"Hm?" He still had that smile on his face, but you could hear the polite confusion in his voice. And that same blindfold and mess of white hair, the smug shit-eating grin, his lax posture... There was no way you could mistake the pinnacle of shounen mentor perfection. "Sorry, do I know you?"
"O-oh, no, I don't think so." And just because you were terrified of alerting the most powerful sorcerer in the entire damn Jujutsu Kaisen series, you immediately reverted back into the acting you thought you had long left behind. "I was just surprised. You're very handsome, after all." You were hardly embarrassed, but just to sell the whole thing you laughed nervously and scratched at your cheek, looking away bashfully. This was the sort of performance that had you unofficially crowned queen of romance J-dramas.
"I could say the same for you too." If you could see his eyes, you were certain they'd have a cheerful air to them. As it was, you couldn't even see the infamous Six Eyes for yourself.
"Thank you, you're too nice." As much as you wanted to stay and stare at him to your heart's content, you had a lecture hall of students to get back to and not a single reason to stay that wouldn't garner his suspicion. Your order arrived just in time, and you quickly took your crepe from the cashier before dipping your head apologetically in Gojou Satoru's direction. "Sorry, I have to get going now! See you around."
It was likely you'd never see him again, and you quickly ran off in the direction of Tokyo University with that thought in mind. You were reincarnated into Jujutsu Kaisen, and yet you weren't even a sorcerer who could admire the likes of Gojou. Damn your luck, being born to an acting-obsessed pair and not the Zenichi clan, or whatever they were called.
On second thought, oh my god, you were in Jujutsu Kaisen, frequent character deaths and all. And maybe your memory wasn't the most intact at this point, but Junpei! Nanami! Even Nobara was in dubious condition and Inumaki was nowhere to be found. Megumi was lying unconscious right outside of Sukuna's blast zone, and Goujou was just chilling in his box last you checked. You gripped your crepe tightly, with force.
"I have to do something," you told yourself, just as you stepped into the lecture hall. Three hundred students turned to look at you and you snapped out of it, gobbling up your crepe with lightning fast speed. "Oops, was I late? I'll just get started right away. This week's lesson will feature an interesting case study I was fortunate to be a part of..." You were quick to jump into the lecture as you pulled out your work laptop, locating and projecting your slideshow with no problem.
Even as you spoke, you thought of the events that had happened earlier. There was the more altruistic, good side of you that wanted to help change the future with your knowledge—and then there was that selfish, self-indulgent side of you that just wanted to be a part of the fun.
You didn't need cursed energy to see curses, and you didn't need to be a sorcerer to see the characters of the manga. Twenty-seven years old, and only now did you feel the thrill of being alive.