[Souji listens in silence at first, taking in the silent implications of subtle abandonment, and duties shouldered at a rather young age - no wonder Haru reminds him of Tatsu sometimes. He looks away as Haru tells him that he's been prepared to hate him, a subdued gesture, weighted by the complexity of his feelings.]

Of course. I understand.

[He can only try to put as much gratitude and goodwill in his voice, trying to communicate that he really does see what Haru means. Kashu, who was so strong and bold and beautiful... and brittle underneath all that, as if one unkind word might raze him to the ground. Souji had given him that. And Yamato too, in a different way. Somehow in the last stages of Souji's tragedy, he'd imprinted too much of himself into the sword, left him aching for everything he could not have, trying to hold it alive within himself even though it twisted him up inside at times.

But then he shakes those melancholy thoughts away, shaking with barely controlled laughter as Haru appears to threaten him with a kitchen implement, and at the bright blush underneath.] Ah, really? I don't get to use it? [A theatrical sight.] What a shame. And I thought it was so cute too. It makes everyone sound so much like a true family. [He's so cheating.]