Seeing how quickly Tōru Azuma regained his composure, a flicker of approval passed through Masamichi Yaga’s eyes before he asked his first question, and the most important one.
“After we brought you back, we used our police connections both domestically and abroad to search for information about you worldwide.
But every search came back with the same result.
No such person exists.
There isn’t a single file or record anywhere proving that you exist.”
He paused.
“It’s as though you simply appeared out of nowhere in this world.
So who exactly are you?”
The question made Tōru Azuma pause.
The answer itself was simple enough.
All he had to do was explain everything from beginning to end.
He had originally lived in the real world, he was a fan of the story that unfolded in this world, and while chatting online one day, someone he had just met had sent him here.
But could he actually say that?
Never mind whether the man in front of him would believe that he was merely a character from a story in another world.
Even if such a thing really existed, some mysterious being freely manipulating people’s fates and tossing them into other stories just to see whether they could accomplish whatever they imagined…
To any normal person, it would sound completely absurd.
If he said something like that out loud, forget Masamichi Yaga.
Even Tōru Azuma himself would have trouble believing it.
And to people who genuinely lived in this world, talk of other worlds and transmigration would undoubtedly sound like pure fantasy, the ravings of a lunatic.
If he told them the truth, the man in front of him would probably just assume something was wrong with his head.
And then what awaited him might be more than an investigation or interrogation.
It could be something much harsher, like being dissected or turned into a lab rat…
In any case, Tōru Azuma had absolutely no faith in the Jujutsu World’s higher-ups, whose minds and values were twisted beyond belief.
So there was only one path he could take.
“I don’t know.
Other than basic common sense and the language I use to communicate with people, I can barely remember anything.”
“All I know is that my name is Tōru Azuma.”
Halfway through, he deliberately let a lost and dejected expression show on his face.
“As for who I am, or where I belong…
I don’t have an answer to that either.”
After saying this, he could feel his heartbeat speeding up slightly.
He was only lying to protect himself, but a lie was still a lie.
Masamichi Yaga made no comment on his answer.
He simply gave him a long look before moving on to his second question.
“I see.
Then the next question.
The Cursed Spirit attack at the subway station yesterday…
did it have anything to do with you?”
That answer was much easier.
So easy, in fact, that Tōru Azuma answered almost without thinking.
“No.”
Of course it had nothing to do with him.
He was just some unlucky guy who had been dumped there by a mysterious online acquaintance and then forced into a fight with a Cursed Spirit.
If anyone was connected to the incident, it was that online acquaintance.
What did it have to do with him?
“I just suddenly appeared there.
I had no idea what was happening.
If your people hadn’t come to help me, I probably would’ve died there.”
Masamichi Yaga still didn’t press him.
He merely tapped a finger lightly against the desk, seemingly lost in thought.
After several seconds, he spoke again.
“All right.
Third question.”
He adjusted his posture and leaned forward slightly.
The movement made his already tall, imposing frame feel even more intimidating.
“According to my student, you managed to guide and control Cursed Energy after nothing more than a few simple instructions from her, and then used it to injure a Cursed Spirit.”
“More importantly, you performed a Black Flash.”
As though concerned that Tōru Azuma might not understand what the term meant, Masamichi Yaga began to explain.
“Black Flash.
It is a phenomenon that occurs only when the difference in timing between the release of your power and the physical impact of your attack is no more than five ten-thousandths of a second.”
“You can think of it as the power within your body and the physical strike becoming synchronized in some extraordinary way at that exact instant.
Depending on the strength of your own power, the resulting attack can explode to tens or even hundreds of times its normal force.”
He looked at Tōru Azuma again.
“And triggering it requires an extreme unity of mind, concentration beyond normal human limits, and perhaps a considerable amount of luck as well.
That is why countless Jujutsu Sorcerers can go their entire lives without ever achieving one.”
Tōru Azuma silently complained to himself.
That’s only because you’ve never met a high school student named Yuji Itadori, much less seen him throw out Black Flashes like basic attacks while fighting Sukuna.
It was only then that Tōru Azuma finally realized what the black-red flash he had seen before losing consciousness actually was.
He had somehow managed to unleash a Black Flash the very first time he used Cursed Energy.
Could it be that he, too, had the makings of the legendary King of Black Flash?
The thought survived for all of one second before he crushed it himself.
What a joke.
Who was Yuji Itadori?
The person with the greatest potential in the entire series.
Jujutsu Kaisen only covered the few months when he was at his lowest, and sixty-eight years later, Emperor Yuji could unleash a single Dismantle across eight kilometers.
How was Tōru Azuma supposed to compare with a walking cheat like that?
He had only managed one Black Flash through sheer luck while his life was on the line.
And after throwing that punch, he had immediately passed out.
He couldn’t even remember the state he had been in or what the sensation had felt like.
The gap between the two of them was probably something like the difference between a tiny pond and the Pacific Ocean.
Still, according to the original story, someone who had experienced Black Flash once would find it easier to enter that state again than other Jujutsu Sorcerers.
If he could familiarize himself with that feeling in the future and repeatedly try to reproduce it, perhaps he could raise his chances of landing another Black Flash.
“So how did you do it?”
Masamichi Yaga’s question instantly pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Someone who has never received any systematic training or learned anything about Jujutsu managed to unleash an attack like that in his very first battle.
Don’t you think that’s rather unusual?”
There was still no accusation in his voice.
If anything, he sounded more curious than suspicious.
So Tōru Azuma told him exactly what had happened without holding anything back.
“I don’t know either.
At the time, I had nowhere left to run, so I stopped thinking about anything else.
I just forced as much of that power as I could into my right hand, then hit it with everything I had.”
Masamichi Yaga stared at him for a long moment after hearing the answer before finally leaning back.
Tōru Azuma couldn’t see his eyes or expression behind the sunglasses, but he could tell from his posture that the man had relaxed somewhat.
“Then, one final question.”
His tone suddenly softened.
The relentless pressure from before disappeared, and his voice became less like an interrogation and more like a candid conversation.
“This is a school dedicated to training Jujutsu Sorcerers.
In other words, we teach people how to use the power inside you.
I don’t know who you were before, but there’s no question that you possess exceptional talent.”
Something beyond mere scrutiny seemed to lie in the eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.
“Since you don’t remember anything, what do you intend to do from here?
What do you think of this place…?
Do you want to leave, or do you want to stay?”
The instant he heard the question, Tōru Azuma thought of Utahime, Mei Mei, Shoko, and all those familiar yet unfamiliar people who would soon appear in this world.
He thought about everything that would happen to them.
Stories he had disliked when reading the original work, but had been powerless to change.
He also remembered the nightmare in which Sukuna had beaten him mercilessly before cutting him in half at the waist.
Even though it had only been a dream, the pain of those relentless slashes had filled him with a fear he could not forget.
Without strength, he couldn’t change anything.
He couldn’t do anything at all.
The best outcome might simply be the higher-ups throwing him into some corner and keeping him imprisoned.
He refused to accept a future like that.
So he answered without the slightest hesitation.
“I don’t know where I came from or where I’ll end up in the future, but what happened to me taught me one thing.
This world is dangerous.
Without power, everything else is meaningless.”
“So I want to stay.
I want to learn how to become a…
Jujutsu Sorcerer.”
Masamichi Yaga looked at him in silence, his thoughts hidden behind his sunglasses.
Several seconds passed before he finally stood.
“I understand.”
His voice returned to its calm, businesslike seriousness.
But compared to when they had first met, some of the sharpness and suspicion had faded, replaced by something Tōru Azuma couldn’t quite identify.
“However, whether you stay or leave isn’t something I can decide by myself.
You’ll need to come with me somewhere next.”
Tōru Azuma blinked.
He had thought the conversation was over and all he needed to do now was wait for the decision.
Instead, this had only been the appetizer before the main course?
“Where are we going?”
He followed Masamichi Yaga out of the office as he asked.
Utahime Iori had been waiting outside.
She paused when she saw the two of them and was just about to say something when Masamichi Yaga cut her off.
“We’re going to meet a few old men who can decide your fate.”
Utahime froze.
A complicated, worried expression appeared on her face.
She had thought everything could be settled here, but in the end, this unfamiliar boy still had to face them after all.
Hearing the seriousness in Masamichi Yaga’s voice and seeing the complicated look on Utahime’s face, Tōru Azuma realized that he was probably about to see the darker side of the Jujutsu World’s higher-ups firsthand.
Then again, it made sense.
Even by the time the original story began, Masamichi Yaga, as principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High, still couldn’t freely decide whether a student stayed or left.
That was even more true now, more than a decade earlier.
Things had already come this far.
There was no turning back now, so there was no point overthinking it.
“Keep up.”
Hearing Masamichi Yaga call from ahead, Tōru Azuma took a deep breath and followed him.