[ that's what they all say, is what he thinks; even the kindest and most altruistic humans are, at the bottom of their hearts, fueled by money, his value to them. at best, tsurumaru is probably like a cat that has to be coaxed out of its cage, and despite all of his joint time here and at the citadel, with the kindness of the other swords and even the kindness of haru (that he's far from deserving, he knows), he hasn't budged an inch.

but hearing him list off one nice trait after another has tsurumaru pressing his lips together in a thin line, in frustration; yet, as much as he wants to clench his hands into little, furious fists, he doesn't move his hands away from haru's bandaging work. even after all this, he thinks it'd be rude to do so. ]

Then, if I wasn't funny, and if I told you that I was just going through the motions and didn't care about the war at all, and if I wasn't a good person... Would you still love me?

[ because to an extent, some of that is true — when the other swords speak so fervently about the war, as if it's something to take seriously, it's something that tsurumaru just doesn't understand. he doesn't understand, he doesn't understand anything; he doesn't even understand why haru doesn't want the organization to reclaim any of them. as much as tsurumaru seeks things like freedom, he doesn't know what to do with it, and it frightens him more than he wants to comprehend.

but he tries again, to understand. ]

If I killed you, would you still say that you love me?