Retirement was never an option

Nanami had planned everything meticulously—he was done with sorcery, done with risking his life for a system he despised. The apartment next to his had been empty—he knew that much. Then, out of nowhere, he heard movement. New tenants weren’t common: too many strange occurrences scared normal civilians away. Which meant only one thing.

Gojo.

He had come by, all grins and sunglasses, dropping a bombshell that shattered Nanami’s barely attained tranquility.

"She's just like you," Gojo had said, his voice dripping with that usual confidence. "Awakened late, disillusioned already, and drowning in existential dread. Sound familiar?"

Nanami had already been massaging his temples before Gojo even finished speaking.

"I’m not interested," he had replied flatly.

"Too late! She’s there! She doesn’t trust me—crazy, right? But she might listen to you."

Nanami sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had no interest in mentoring anyone. He was done with that world. But the memories of his own painful awakening lingered, the isolation of it, the way the world became unbearable overnight.

So, despite his better judgment, he knocked on his new neighbor’s door. He could already hear movement inside, muffled footsteps pacing. Restless. Just like he had been in the beginning.

It took a while, but finally, it opened just enough for him to see a pair of wary eyes peering out.

"Yes?"

"Nanami Kento. I live next door. I assume Gojo forced you into this situation?"