Can You Kill Him...?

Ryosuke met his gaze without flinching.

"I don't see why I'd make up a story. We were heading back from the mission when we crossed paths with that guy."

The principal nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I see. My child, don't take this as doubt in your words. But understand, the man you encountered isn't just anyone. He is Suguru Geto—the most wanted jujutsu criminal in Japan."

Ryosuke raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? What's that got to do with me?" he replied, crossing his arms.

The principal ignored his flippant tone and continued, unruffled:

"His threat level is second only to Satoru Gojo's. The fact that he crossed your path is no small matter."

Ryosuke rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.

"Then why am I here? If you're trying to scare me, it's not working."

A barely noticeable smile crossed the old man's lips. He opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Ryosuke.

"Here is your form. It's official—you are now a Special-Grade Sorcerer."

Ryosuke blinked, caught off guard.

"Huh? That was fast…"

The principal nodded slowly.

"When urgency calls, bureaucracy moves swiftly. Defeating a Special-Grade curse and crossing paths with Geto is more than enough to earn that title."

Ryosuke took the envelope, his skepticism plain to see.

"I'm guessing there's a catch?"

"My child, I'll be honest. I trust your abilities. Coming back unscathed after an encounter with Suguru Geto is impressive—but it's also raising eyebrows in the council. Some believe that—"

Ryosuke cut him off with a burst of laughter, leaning forward to rest a hand on the desk.

"You've got to be kidding me. Teaming up with that guy? That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?"

Yoshinobu's lips curled into the faintest trace of a smile. He nodded gently.

"Perhaps. But know this—I have immense respect for your aunt, Yuki. She's an exceptional woman, a sorceress without equal. And you, Ryosuke… you're one of the rare geniuses I've encountered."

Ryosuke straightened, crossing his arms with a cocky grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know that already. Now, how about you tell me why I'm here? You didn't summon the 'rare genius' just to shower me with compliments, did you?"

Yoshinobu sighed, leaning back slowly in his chair. His gaze darkened, and his tone turned grave.

"Do you think you could kill Satoru Gojo?"

The question struck like a thunderclap, leaving the air heavy with tension. Ryosuke froze, his arms slowly dropping to his sides. His grin vanished as his eyes locked onto the principal's, searching for any hint of a joke. But Yoshinobu didn't flinch. He waited.

"What?" Ryosuke finally murmured, visibly shaken.

Yoshinobu smiled, but it wasn't the comforting kind.

"I know the question is unsettling, but your answer will decide whether this conversation continues… or ends here."

Ryosuke looked away, silent for a moment, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. Then, he turned back, narrowing his eyes.

"You know, you're the first person bold enough to ask me something so absurd. But I'm curious… Why would you even want me to consider such a thing?"

Yoshinobu didn't respond immediately. Instead, he simply stared, patient as ever.

Ryosuke stayed quiet, his thoughts colliding like storm clouds.

Kill Satoru Gojo, huh…

He glanced down, fiddling absentmindedly with the envelope in his hands.

Yoshinobu Gakuganji…

The old man was far more intricate than he'd expected.

As for the question? Ryosuke already knew his answer. But he couldn't shake the memory of another guy, just as confident as he was, who'd faced a similar proposition. That guy had ended up in two pieces.

(A/N: Guess who.)

It was quite the lesson, Ryosuke thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Well… if the old man wants to play games, let's play.

He lifted his head, locking eyes with Yoshinobu once more.

"That's quite the question," he said calmly. Then, after a brief pause, he smiled. "You know, I've never had the pleasure of facing this Satoru Gojo. But from everything I've heard… he's the strongest sorcerer of our time, isn't he?"

Yoshinobu nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

Ryosuke shrugged, casually running a hand through his hair.

"Then why ask me such a thing? Comparing a king to a god is a bit insulting, don't you think?"

Yoshinobu's eyebrows raised slightly. "A god, you say?" he murmured, intrigued. "And who would that god be?"

And in that instant, everything shifted.

An invisible tension filled the room, cold and suffocating. Yoshinobu stiffened, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Then, without warning, beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He couldn't move.

Ryosuke stepped forward slowly, rounding the desk. Once behind Yoshinobu, he placed a hand on the back of the chair, turning it with deliberate ease.

Their eyes met.

"You've never felt this from Satoru, have you?" Ryosuke murmured, his voice calm yet chilling.

Yoshinobu was frozen. No, it wasn't just fear—it was absolute paralysis, a complete inability to move. His arms, his legs, even his breath had been stripped from him. It wasn't that his body refused to obey; it was as if his mind had forgotten how. Only his heart remained functional, pounding wildly in his chest like a war drum.

Ryosuke straightened, standing tall.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the paralysis lifted. Yoshinobu's muscles responded again, but he didn't dare move. He trembled violently, a single bead of cold sweat trailing down his temple as he stared at the young man before him, terrified.

Ryosuke clapped slowly, the sound almost mocking. His expression was one of casual amusement.

"Smart. Very smart, old man," he said, his tone laced with a hint of mockery. "You know when to keep your mouth shut."

Yoshinobu didn't respond. He couldn't. His lips quivered, but no sound escaped. He simply stared at Ryosuke, reeling from what he'd just experienced.

Ryosuke turned on his heel, heading for the door. He paused just before reaching it, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Now you know who the god is, don't you?"

And without waiting for an answer, he left, closing the door behind him with a calm, almost ironic gentleness.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Next Chapter: No more Mechamaru but Iron Man