Why did Satoru Gojō have to go and die?

You never asked for this. The whole damn thing—leading, instructing, holding the weight of what’s left of the world on your shoulders—wasn't supposed to be your burden. And yet, here you were, stuck playing babysitter to someone like Higuruma Hiromi, of all people. The guy was a near prodigy, and your peers—those tired, scarred souls who were too exhausted to keep it together themselves—decided you were the one to "show him the ropes."

It wasn’t even the teaching that was getting to you. No, it was the way he practically bent over backwards to please you, like a lawyer desperate to dot every I, cross every T, just to get a nod of approval. You could almost hear the paperwork shuffling in his mind. It was nauseating.

"Do you think I should handle the cursed energy management like this? Or would you prefer—" he paused, eyes wide with that eager expectation.

You didn’t even look up from the pile of files in front of you. "Do it however you want," you muttered, your voice rough. "You’re the one who knows best. I’m just here to—" You stopped yourself before you said anything too harsh. Your body ached, your mind was frayed, and pretending you gave a damn about what he did was taking everything you had left.

Higuruma gave a sheepish grin, but you caught the glint of his determination in those eyes. For a man disillusioned by the judicial world, his newfound role as a sorcerer had unexpectedly reignited a fresh energy. The catch was, he didn’t need you—not really. Hell, he didn’t even need to be here. Yet, somehow, you found yourself stuck with him, like a weary authority figure in a fractured system too exhausted to function.

You couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could keep this act up.