Chapter 43 — So It Was Secondhand Smoke?
Limitless Probability Technique—activate!
Almost at the same instant Momo cried out in warning, Ren sensed the danger erupting behind him.
He didn't know what technique it was.
But instinct overrode thought.
His strongest survival trump card—Limitless Probability—flared to life at maximum output.
In this state, any attack directed at him would be nullified by an abnormal distortion of probability. Anything that sought to harm him would "coincidentally" fail.
And then—
In the very next instant—
A sea of blooming flowers exploded into existence around him.
Crimson, violet, gold—thousands of blossoms bursting open at once. Fragrance surged like an ocean tide, thick and intoxicating. Above, the sky dissolved into a prismatic haze of shifting, dreamlike light.
—
"Ha! Ha!"
Sunlight flooded a school track.
Ren sprinted along the lanes at nearly one-third the speed of sound. His legs blurred into afterimages, dust billowing behind him in swirling clouds.
Moments later, he stood beside the track, gripping a custom-made, absurdly heavy barbell from the equipment club. He heaved it upward again and again, breath ragged, muscles trembling.
Sweat poured down his face, soaking his clothes.
From beneath the shade of a tree, Utahime Iori approached—dressed in her red-and-white shrine maiden robes, a gentle smile on her face.
She reached out with slender fingers, brushing damp hair from his forehead and wiping away the sweat. A soft fragrance drifted from her wide sleeves.
"Ren, you don't have to push yourself so hard," she said gently.
"Utahime-sensei…" Ren murmured, entranced by her warmth, her scent, her smile.
Something felt wrong.
He felt as though he had forgotten something important.
Why am I here?
Wasn't I supposed to—
"Get some rest," Utahime said softly.
"You've worked very hard already."
"I'm proud of you."
…Wait.
Ren blinked.
Why was he on the track?
Why was Utahime-sensei being this gentle?
This was—
A death flashback.
Right?
Right?!
No. No no no no—
Not like this!
"UTAHIME-SENSEI!"
Ren roared—
And his eyes snapped open.
The next second, unbearable agony flooded his body, accompanied by a terrifying emptiness—as if every drop of blood and vitality had been drained from him.
He opened his mouth to shout again—
But only a faint rasp escaped his throat.
His body felt like a charred, shriveled log.
His throat like torn, tattered cloth.
A woman approached.
She wore purple eyeshadow, had long brown hair, and a small mole near her eye. A blue turtleneck under a white lab coat.
"You're awake?" she asked gently, lowering her head toward him.
Her hair spilled forward onto his chest, carrying a rich, soothing fragrance.
And only then did Ren realize—
He was no longer in the flower sea.
He was in the infirmary.
There was a pleasant scent about her—but not Utahime-sensei's light, refined fragrance.
This one was richer. Heavier. More layered.
And mixed within it… something else.
Ren's gaze shifted to the faint ember flickering at her lips—the cigarette bobbing gently as she spoke, smoke curling lazily from between her fingers.
"…Damn it. So it's secondhand smoke."
Realization dawned.
And Ren promptly blacked out again.
---
When he regained consciousness, the bedside was crowded.
Miwa Kasumi stood there with tears at the corners of her eyes—yet her flushed cheeks betrayed uncontrollable relief. Mai Zen'in tried to maintain a calm expression, but the worry between her brows was impossible to hide. Utahime, Momo… nearly everyone wore similar looks.
There were also familiar faces from Tokyo.
Megumi Fushiguro.
Maki Zen'in.
And the woman with the cigarette.
"Oh! Ren's awake!"
Someone shouted, and instantly the group surged forward, surrounding him like visitors crowding around a rare panda in a zoo.
Speaking of pandas—
There really was one.
A literal panda stood among them—not an exhibit, but a spectator. A Tokyo sorcerer named Panda, capable of walking upright and speaking like a human.
Ren blinked at the wall of faces staring down at him.
"How do you feel?" Utahime asked urgently.
"What… happened…?" Ren croaked, lips dry and cracked.
The woman with the cigarette calmly tapped ash aside and exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"You got caught in that curse's Domain," she said evenly. "It drained almost all your cursed energy and life force."
"If help hadn't arrived in time, you'd probably be dead."
"…What?"
Ren's eyes widened.
"Domain? What's a Domain?"
"And—I activated my technique, didn't I?"
He clearly remembered.
Someone had shouted something about a "Domain."
He had immediately triggered Limitless Probability.
He was certain—he hadn't been struck before activating it.
By all logic, no matter what kind of attack it was—
"Domains neutralize techniques," Utahime answered, cutting straight to the point.
Ren froze.
"…They neutralize all techniques?"
What kind of absurd ability was that?
"Utahime-senpai," the woman in the lab coat frowned slightly at Ren's baffled expression, "Kyoto's curriculum is concerning. He's a second-year and doesn't even know what a Domain is?"
"Th-that…" Utahime rubbed her forehead awkwardly. "Shoko… Ren only enrolled at the end of last school year. Technically he's a second-year, but his experience is basically first-year level."
The woman—Shoko Ieiri—shifted her gaze.
A first-year?
She had already heard detailed accounts from the Tokyo students.
A first-year who had pushed a special-grade curse to near death… and forced it to deploy a Domain?
Her expression changed instantly.
As for Ren—
He looked completely lost.
Everyone kept saying "Domain" as if it were common knowledge, and he was utterly in the dark.
"So…" he rasped, clearing his throat painfully, "can someone explain what a Domain actually is?"
Utahime straightened and answered carefully.
"A Domain is a type of barrier technique."
"It represents the pinnacle of jujutsu mastery."
"It combines an innate technique with barrier construction, manifesting the sorcerer's inner landscape into reality—creating a specialized field."
"And within that field—"
"The caster's abilities are drastically enhanced."
"And their attacks gain a guaranteed-hit, guaranteed-kill effect."