[It's hard not to flinch a little bit at the question, hard not to feel it as an echo of Tetsu's hands grasping him - so strong now, compared to his own frail body - and the young man's insistence that he can carry him. That he can't go on. The frantic clash of humiliation and love and gratitude and helplessness inside him, and the hypocritical words that had followed.

He had been Tetsu's teacher in becoming an oni, hadn't he? And he had wielded this sword until he'd somehow created him in his own image. Is it really very different now?

But there is no reason to attempt pretty words anymore, is there? He'd finally run out, back then, and now he knows for certain what turning down help will do for him. It won't make him more useful to anyone at all, or any less helpless. The only purpose it serves is to make people who care about him, who love him, feel useless and helpless in turn - all it will do is make them cry.

Breathe. Breathe. Swallow your pride and breathe.]

...Yes, I think that's for the best. [He even manages a feeble smile, gently ruffling Yamato's hair - to make himself feel better about this, or maybe the sword, he really can't tell.] After all, I've spent so much time carrying you, haven't I? So it's really only fair if it's the only way around for a change, don't you think?