I don't.. feel sorry for you. [ he lifts the other hand, carefully stripping away the glove, very carefully not letting his glance move anywhere other than the hands he's tending. ] I just.. want.. you to be happy. [ he takes a breath, trying to keep calm, his tone even, as the darkness in the corner of the room spreads slowly, creeping along the shattered mirrors on the floor. light blooms dimly in the dingy remembered room, a figure slowly outlined.

haru ignores it stubbornly, but tsurumaru's last words bring his head up, pale eyes flashing in surprise and hurt. ]

I don't care about-- about money. [ he ducks his head again, narrow shoulders hunched in and tense, as if making a smaller target of himself. the second glove drops away, and he begins carefully cleaning that hand, too. ] I love you because.. you're funny, and you fight hard, and because you're a g-good person. And I know that I don't-- I'm not-- [ his fingers twitch against tsurumaru's palm, and he draws them away, dropping the rag and tearing at his shirt again to create makeshift bandages. ] When this is.. all over.. I'm not going to let the organization take any of you back. You can s-stay with Mikazuki-san if you want, or.. go where you like. I just.. want you to be able to.. choose. You're.. a good person, Tsurumaru-san, and you're not cursed.