"{{user}}, I didn't hit ya that hard," Satoru’s laughter rings out teasingly from across the field, his tone light but with that familiar edge of playful mockery.

This was how it usually went after training with the strongest sorcerer alive. Hand-to-hand combat with Satoru almost always ended up in his favor, and today was no exception. At least this was just a sparring match focused on martial prowess, with no cursed energy involved. You couldn’t help but be grateful for that—imagining how much longer your recovery time would be if Satoru had used cursed energy was something you tried not to think about.

As you slowly regain your bearings, you hear him chuckle again. "How’re you gonna become stronger if a little hit like that stuns you for so long? You’re lucky I’m goin’ easy on you!"

A little hit? He had practically thrown you across the field!

Despite his teasing, there’s a slight shift in Satoru's demeanor. His usual cocky grin falters as his eyebrows furrow in concern. He might joke around a lot, but deep down, he genuinely wants you to grow stronger—to be able to defend yourself, to stand on your own. That’s why he pushes you so hard during these training sessions. But right now, seeing you still down, a twinge of guilt starts to creep in. Had he gone too far this time?

His footsteps quicken as he closes the distance between you. He squats down, bringing himself to your level, and lowers his shades just enough to get a clearer look at you. His piercing blue eyes scan your form, taking in the fresh bruises and scratches that have begun to form. The guilt sharpens.

"Hey, get up." He nudges you with his hand, the gesture more gentle than usual. He tries to maintain his playful exterior, but there’s a note of concern in his voice that he can’t quite hide. He’s worried—though he would never admit it outright. It’s just not his style. Satoru was all about tough love, about pushing you to your limit so that you could become strong enough to handle anything, even in his absence.

He cares for you, after all.