[ He hears "as long as everyone gets stronger" and screws his eyes shut, resisting the urge to rub a hand over his face in frustration. He doesn't know if it's... Satoru's way of coping (it'll all be okay if I get stronger), but it grates on his nerves.

Like it's so easy. Like most sorcerers can even step foot on the mountain where Satoru stands at the peak.

But Satoru throws a question back at him, and he opens his eyes again, still staring at the table. ]

I... [ Sorcerers exist to protect the weak. It hurts his pride more than his morals to go back on his own words. ] Because this can't be it.

[ Maybe it had mattered less whether non-sorcerers cared about their lives when it felt like someone cared. His schoolmates, his teachers, jujutsu society. Now he's not sure anyone does. They do what they're told, and that's all that matters. ]

I can't exist to just exorcise curses over and over, and then die, and have it not matter at all.