[It sets off another quiet fit of laughter to hear Kashuu speak like that. He can almost hear a terse echo of, Souji... You're having too much fun acting like that behind his words, and it feels safe and nostalgic and melancholic all at once. He supposed, in a way, this is how he knows that a place is home, somehow. It's in Haru scolding him severely, and Yamato's blithe and forthright practicality, Kousetsu's peaceful spirituality, Mikazuki's effortless generosity, Namazuo's solemn kindness... All the motley and bright personalities of the swords and the house guests clashing and mingling, creating something new from familiar parts - or maybe vice versa.

And this, Kashuu, whatever it is they are which he honestly can't make heads or tails of, except that it makes him feel better. Maybe he ought to feel more guilty thinking of home, but it's a feeling he's used to repressing and ignoring, especially when he can't do much about his situation. It's how he's always thought he ought to act, so maybe that's okay.

He leans their foreheads together, stifling a yawn, and gently caresses a silky lock of hair out of Kashuu's face.]You're just going to let me have the upper hand, huh? No wonder I'm having too much fun. Seems like people always end up putting up with my silliness no matter where I go. Just like home.