[You could not really say how much today's almost cold-hearted analysis and lecturing would shake Satoru Gojo's proud heart, or what influence it would have on him.]
[Holding the half-burned cigarette between your fingers, you quietly studied the silver-haired boy through the hazy smoke as he fell into thoughtful silence.]
[Compared with the godlike loftiness and indifference you had watched him develop in countless past simulations, tempered by such cruel events as the Star Plasma Vessel's tragic death and the despair of his best friend's defection, the Satoru Gojo of this simulation's timeline always gave you the illusion that he was far too "light."]
[That "lightness" referred not to a weakness in his strength, but to the weight of his soul.]
[Your forceful intervention and advance preparations had forcibly diverted the course of his life.]
[Apart from being unable to force you to fight him with all your strength on this training ground, unable to crush you utterly beneath his feet and savor the fruits of victory, everything he had experienced had been far too easy and smooth.]
[You tipped your head up slightly and watched the clouds gradually dispersing overhead.]
[Perhaps this was the so-called "price of happiness." In the end, humans needed to struggle in the mire of suffering and remake themselves amid the despair of loss before their souls could rapidly transform and grow, yet you had personally deprived him of the chance to taste those extremes of pain.]
[After that confrontation on the training ground ended on a sour note, an unreconciled Satoru Gojo would still occasionally challenge you as he had before, like a stubborn child, at some extremely unexpected moments.]
[He would even swing a fist wrapped in densely concentrated cursed energy at you around a corridor corner without warning, or suddenly teleport behind