[Forcing the words out despite the physical pain they cause him, eyes bright but dry, and Sanji tosses him an understanding nod. A smile.
He has no right, does he? To ask the sword to make this one exception and take him along, and risk the chance of being left behind again.
Sanji lived and breathed that memory. He saw Souji wither and die with Yasusada unable to save him. And he's watched this sword cling to a chef, chasing an imitation of leadership.
Ha. If he were more selfish, if he'd never seen the trauma that Yasusada has lived through -- but no. There's no point wishing on a path that's already been cut away, and so Sanji brutally refuses himself the luxury of pity. This shit isn't even about the killing anymore.
It's about giving Yasusada the chance to pick his own closure, should the end arrive. No matter the stakes, Sanji... can't take that away from him, even if he wants to die more.]
[The thing is, Yasusada has always been more observant than people give him credit for.
He has to be. Okita's prowess in battle was due, not only to his strength and speed, but to his sharp eyes, his ability to assess an opponent and compensate for moves they hadn't realized they'd decided to make. It's a skill that translated seamlessly outside of battle, helping him say and do all the right things to get his men in top form, to build friendships and loyalty of his own, bound by the sincerity they all wear on their backs.
Okita, of course, was--is much better with other humans than Yasusada will ever be. Yasusada's fine with that; not once has he ever wanted to be more than the best sword he can be. But that doesn't mean he can't recognize pain when he sees it. It doesn't mean he's oblivious to the fact that, this time, Sanji could very well be the one left behind.
(If he isn't caught, that's one thing, but he will not frame someone else. He doesn't think he needs to say that out loud, for it to be clear.)
He opens his mouth--but, no. Now isn't the time for goodbyes, is it? Saying any sort of "goodbye" before a battle, isn't that bad luck? And they have enough of that already.
So instead, he tilts his head to the side just slightly, and smiles. It's the same relieved smile he gave Okita, when Okita agreed to be his executioner at the castle. Sanji has no way of knowing that, of course--nor does he have any way of hearing the parallel, in what Yasusada decides to say instead.]
Sanji-kun, will you tell me about them? That swordsman, and the others. From your home.
[He'd been granted the chance to look at Sanji's memories, before they'd gotten so severely sidetracked by his own. Thoughts of Okita, and Kashuu, those short, brilliant days they'd spent so happily together--that's what brings Yasusada the most comfort, even when he knows how it all ends. Surely Sanji, too, draws his strength from memories like that, right?
Whatever snow was left on him has melted by now, chilling his skin. But that's fine. He dislikes hot summer days anyway.]
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[Forcing the words out despite the physical pain they cause him, eyes bright but dry, and Sanji tosses him an understanding nod. A smile.
He has no right, does he? To ask the sword to make this one exception and take him along, and risk the chance of being left behind again.
Sanji lived and breathed that memory. He saw Souji wither and die with Yasusada unable to save him. And he's watched this sword cling to a chef, chasing an imitation of leadership.
Ha. If he were more selfish, if he'd never seen the trauma that Yasusada has lived through -- but no. There's no point wishing on a path that's already been cut away, and so Sanji brutally refuses himself the luxury of pity. This shit isn't even about the killing anymore.
It's about giving Yasusada the chance to pick his own closure, should the end arrive. No matter the stakes, Sanji... can't take that away from him, even if he wants to die more.]
Good luck.
THROWS YOU INTO THE SUN
He has to be. Okita's prowess in battle was due, not only to his strength and speed, but to his sharp eyes, his ability to assess an opponent and compensate for moves they hadn't realized they'd decided to make. It's a skill that translated seamlessly outside of battle, helping him say and do all the right things to get his men in top form, to build friendships and loyalty of his own, bound by the sincerity they all wear on their backs.
Okita, of course, was--is much better with other humans than Yasusada will ever be. Yasusada's fine with that; not once has he ever wanted to be more than the best sword he can be. But that doesn't mean he can't recognize pain when he sees it. It doesn't mean he's oblivious to the fact that, this time, Sanji could very well be the one left behind.
(If he isn't caught, that's one thing, but he will not frame someone else. He doesn't think he needs to say that out loud, for it to be clear.)
He opens his mouth--but, no. Now isn't the time for goodbyes, is it? Saying any sort of "goodbye" before a battle, isn't that bad luck? And they have enough of that already.
So instead, he tilts his head to the side just slightly, and smiles. It's the same relieved smile he gave Okita, when Okita agreed to be his executioner at the castle. Sanji has no way of knowing that, of course--nor does he have any way of hearing the parallel, in what Yasusada decides to say instead.]
Sanji-kun, will you tell me about them? That swordsman, and the others. From your home.
[He'd been granted the chance to look at Sanji's memories, before they'd gotten so severely sidetracked by his own. Thoughts of Okita, and Kashuu, those short, brilliant days they'd spent so happily together--that's what brings Yasusada the most comfort, even when he knows how it all ends. Surely Sanji, too, draws his strength from memories like that, right?
Whatever snow was left on him has melted by now, chilling his skin. But that's fine. He dislikes hot summer days anyway.]