She listened, empathizing with what she couldn't sympathize with. She gave his hand a squeeze, holding tight as they stood there, caught in her impersonal, personal raincloud. The rain fell no harder or softer. It simply continued on exactly as it was.
Her own trouble with recollection had been to save the life of another, someone important to her. It had been life and death in a less immediately dramatic way, and her memories were locked away due to the gap in years. Children don't always remember their earliest years, and her drowning had been lost to the wash of time. But for her mother's words on the incident, reminding her of what had once happened, she may well never have remembered more than the flash of a pink shoe against turbulent, blue waters.
She moved closer to lean against him, a gentle sort of pressure when she wasn't sure what else to do. Chihiro could understand feeling helpless. She'd felt it here before, had felt it when grasping for answers and ways to help the people she cared about. Tsuru's name registered as familiar, and she nodded, making another small sound to show she was listening as he spoke.
"I'm sorry. We all want to be able to protect our important people." Friends or family. Zeniba's words echoed through her memory, Chihiro breathing in and out before offering a quieter word. "Mm... there was a sorcerer I knew who told me we never really forget someone once we've met them. We just haven't remembered yet. I don't know... it may not be the same. Memories are things that we all have, but... we're making them, too. Because we exist, we make memories every day." She wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to say; she wasn't even sure what she wanted to say. Provide comfort? No, it wasn't something she knew how to do for something like this. Looking at a way forward? That was easier, but harder at the same time.
She paused, then squeezed his hand once more. "I'm sorry for all the terrible things that you and your brothers." It wasn't his fault. It couldn't have been. Not when bound to simply his vessel. He was dependent on the graces of those who had chosen to forget him in the wake of his Master's passing; him and his brothers alike. That's how Chihiro saw it; not a failing for a lack of heart or effort or desire, but circumstances working against his possibilities. "And um... I'm glad you were reforged."
It wasn't regaining what was lost. Chihiro, young as she was, didn't believe that things could necessarily be reclaimed. Some things changed, and that was what they now were. They didn't return to being what they were before. Yet it was in having a sense of existence and life that anything else could be done; new memories, not to replace old ones, but to pave the path of a life continued on beyond a traumatic event.
People, whatever their origins, needed to be able to move forward.
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Her own trouble with recollection had been to save the life of another, someone important to her. It had been life and death in a less immediately dramatic way, and her memories were locked away due to the gap in years. Children don't always remember their earliest years, and her drowning had been lost to the wash of time. But for her mother's words on the incident, reminding her of what had once happened, she may well never have remembered more than the flash of a pink shoe against turbulent, blue waters.
She moved closer to lean against him, a gentle sort of pressure when she wasn't sure what else to do. Chihiro could understand feeling helpless. She'd felt it here before, had felt it when grasping for answers and ways to help the people she cared about. Tsuru's name registered as familiar, and she nodded, making another small sound to show she was listening as he spoke.
"I'm sorry. We all want to be able to protect our important people." Friends or family. Zeniba's words echoed through her memory, Chihiro breathing in and out before offering a quieter word. "Mm... there was a sorcerer I knew who told me we never really forget someone once we've met them. We just haven't remembered yet. I don't know... it may not be the same. Memories are things that we all have, but... we're making them, too. Because we exist, we make memories every day." She wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to say; she wasn't even sure what she wanted to say. Provide comfort? No, it wasn't something she knew how to do for something like this. Looking at a way forward? That was easier, but harder at the same time.
She paused, then squeezed his hand once more. "I'm sorry for all the terrible things that you and your brothers." It wasn't his fault. It couldn't have been. Not when bound to simply his vessel. He was dependent on the graces of those who had chosen to forget him in the wake of his Master's passing; him and his brothers alike. That's how Chihiro saw it; not a failing for a lack of heart or effort or desire, but circumstances working against his possibilities. "And um... I'm glad you were reforged."
It wasn't regaining what was lost. Chihiro, young as she was, didn't believe that things could necessarily be reclaimed. Some things changed, and that was what they now were. They didn't return to being what they were before. Yet it was in having a sense of existence and life that anything else could be done; new memories, not to replace old ones, but to pave the path of a life continued on beyond a traumatic event.
People, whatever their origins, needed to be able to move forward.