[He listens, tries to understand. But... in a way it doesn't really change anything. Whether or not Kashuu had been alive before Haru called him was made irrelevant the very moment all that memory coalesced into that slight frame and came to life. The potential for all that hurt, that terrible betrayal and loneliness, had always existed, from the very moment Kashuu had been cast aside. Souji's mind doesn't really work in a way which will absolve him just because, at the time it happened, the pain wasn't felt, wasn't yet realized.

He curls his hands in his lap unconsciously. He remembers the katana with the chrysanthemum, the cursed sword that brought death with it. Three years old, he had won it by beating a man senseless, and sometimes he had wondered if it was because the two of them were... alike. Now he wonders if the potential existing in that sword would have created something just like him. Not fully a human, never fully a human, because there are some feelings he doesn't know how to feel. Are all swords like that; like him? It's a terrifying thought, but also one that is full of longing.]

I... think I understand. And for what it's worth, I'm glad that you did. Even if he could never have actually felt all that hurt as a sword... in a way, it still existed. So if this is the only way it can be made better, I'm glad. [A soft laugh leaves his lips, bewildered and fragile like a newly hatched butterfly.] Thank you. It's an honor, to have been able to speak to him. [A small wince.] But I know that I... it made him a bit upset, seeing me, and I think he'll probably need you to speak to him later.