[ he's grateful that her hold tightens — it keeps him grounded and here, and he'd apologize for staining her hands with his blood, but now is not the time. he pauses, head dipped, because he also feels something burning at the corners of his eyes, even as he bites his lip, trying to hold it back. ]
But, my loved ones... they're dead.
[ his loved ones, he means, because he's sure that these people loved him the most, even more than the rest of the swords and haru probably do; and the fact that it was an instant conclusion is somewhat sad in itself.
it's true that he's loved in the present — in between gossip with kashuu, or pranking kousetsu, or leading naki into aimless adventures, swordhaus is fond of him, but to say that he's fond of them in the exact same way would be a lie.
no subject
But, my loved ones... they're dead.
[ his loved ones, he means, because he's sure that these people loved him the most, even more than the rest of the swords and haru probably do; and the fact that it was an instant conclusion is somewhat sad in itself.
it's true that he's loved in the present — in between gossip with kashuu, or pranking kousetsu, or leading naki into aimless adventures, swordhaus is fond of him, but to say that he's fond of them in the exact same way would be a lie.
so, his voice is solemn as he speaks. ]
Dead people can't cry.