[The fact that he is not on Yasusada's shitlist is both a huge relief and results in a sudden spike of anxiety, the chef's expression immediately softening with self-inflicted reproach. The tiger ears even fold back a tad]
I-- I wasn't able to tell you about the role shit.
[And believe him, Yasusada, he tried, only to be frozen in place until he sighed and moved on.]
You tried, when I asked. [Would he have liked to get a better hint, earlier on? Sure, of course. Maybe, if it weren't for everything else they'd just learned, he would be a little bit more hurt. But as it stands--] And you still involved me. [...] You trusted me.
[Which is... the main reason he's upset, really. Sanji was the only person who gave him anything concrete to work with. Anything at all, beyond vague declarations of grandeur with no apparent basis. No one besides Sanji even attempted to imply that they had any idea what was happening, and certainly no one seemed truly willing to let him help.
Yasusada knows that he's not human. He doesn't even do a good job at pretending, because he doesn't want to. He's proud of what he is, and has no desire to be anything else. And for a weapon who served at the side of the captain of the first unit of the Shinsengumi, a brilliant man and a prodigy in his own right, feeling so unreliable and untrustworthy... isn't nice.]
And Sanji can't say anything because... Yasusada's not wrong to harbor his disappointment. The roles in this game divided them all into factions, so to speak, and left those cursed with responsibility living double lives.
Shit, it's been even worse than what he put up with in the castle, and his eyes drift around their surroundings, taking in the familiar aged stone. Here? He could count on others to reveal his intentions if the necessity arose -- and in that way, extend trust and knowledge to those who were purposefully made naive.
The camp, however, proved to be a lot crueler than expected. It feels like everyone is paying the price for it, too.]
You've got a right to be upset.
[A pause]
I know from experience we couldn't say anything, but...
[Regardless of that fact, he won't let anyone take that frustration away from Yasusada. Fuck the living and their quick forgiveness. The dead are allowed their grudges if they want to keep them]
...The night before I died, here, Rapunzel-kun came to me. She told me everything she knew, and said she was working with Varian-kun to find a way to save everyone.
[Which ended up being useless because he got her killed, in the end. But she gave him something tangible to hold onto. Proof that things were happening around them, instead of just promises that, from the outside, seemed terribly empty.
He knows the murderers couldn't have confessed. It's not like he was expecting them to. But to be given nothing, even from the people you wanted to trust--it stings.]
...Tonbokiri-san didn't speak to me at all. [Which hurts a lot, if he's honest. He knew Ookurikara and Lili had their own team, and they'd both made it very clear they had no interest in genuinely seeking his help, no matter how Lili tried to act as though he'd given her leave to be a stand-in commander.] And Flayn-kun--
[His grip tightens on the cloth in his hand, and he shakes his head. He doesn't even know where to begin, with Flayn. He poured his heart out to her in the face of her anger and tears, told her in plain words that he could no longer stay his hand for nothing but impassioned words, and all she'd said was you're going to fight tomorrow, right?
And to think, just the other day, he'd told Yin Yu he was sure she had a killing role. He hadn't expected to be this correct.]
[Just -- a fuckin, bitter laugh at Tonbokiri's name, and his tail gives an irritated twitch.]
Tch, of course he didn't. He was too busy making promises to protect people he couldn't. [And that's not exactly fair when Sanji of all people knows how it feels to be trapped into your role, but god does Sanji have so many problems with the people Tonbokiri chose to hurt. At least Magnus's reasoning was sound: he went after those who could fight back, and just happened to win.
So much for trust in the spear. It'll still be some time before Sanji decides if he can face his former cabinmate without wanting to kick him in the balls.
... But ah. Flayn's name... stills him into place as an unbidden memory is dredged up to the surface. He hasn't told Yasusada yet -- how could he would he's only recently gotten his memories back?
It probably won't help -- heck, Yasusada is allowed his anger no matter what, but Sanji releases a sigh and stares at the ceiling, preparing to speak.]
I'm not saying you got to forgive her, but she was... miserable that night. And offered to die in my place.
[...]
Partly because I found her, y'know? That Tuesday, I found out she had a role, and introduced her to Akira and me. Her title was Wicket.
[...]
And then on the night of the murder when I touched her shoulder, I could feel all of her regret and self-loathing. Even if it's just because of my role, I think she wanted me to live more than anything. But we couldn't convince Magnus to let me go, and I wasn't willing to trade her life for mine.
[It's probably very telling, the way that Yasuada doesn't offer any sort of defense for Tonbokiri. Even if they were from different citadels, even if they weren't the closest of comrades, they were still... they still should've had something.
The sound of Sanji's sigh has him looking over, uncertainty in his eyes. He didn't stay long enough to hear the way the others began to remember their own deaths, so this is a surprise to him.
There's a sullen set to his mouth the longer Sanji speaks, though to his credit, he doesn't interrupt. He's so old, compared to humans, but as a spirit, he's still so very young. That comes through, now, with how clear it is, the way he's struggling with what he's hearing. He doesn't like it, because he's angry with her, right now. He doesn't want to hear about what she wanted, or didn't want.
But he listens, which. Is about as much grace as he's got in him, right now. It's not much, but it's something. A sign, perhaps, that he won't be angry forever.]
...I wouldn't have killed him just for you. [Which would, perhaps, be a cruel thing to say to anybody but Sanji. But he thinks Sanji understands what he means. The goal, in the end, was always to save their people, if they couldn't break the game. It's an acknowledgment that he wouldn't have wrecked everything they worked towards, no matter how much Sanji's death hurt him. The way he'd lunged for Magnus, that day--it was about everything that was stolen from them, because of Magnus's choice of victim that night.
This isn't about Magnus, though. He grudgingly forgave that. Flayn, on the other hand...]
...Flayn-kun--she was... [He pauses, his own tail twitching in frustration as he tries to figure out what he wants to say.] ...she was so upset with me, about Yu-kun. But when it was me, for you...
[It wasn't fair, is what he means. Flayn got the chance to mourn, to grieve publicly and without judgment, even though she knew better than most that death was a necessary part of this game. But with the way Sanji's death was presented, with how it was "justified"... even if she'd caught alongside Magnus, it was never going to look the same to everyone else's eyes. Yasusada never stood a chance, compared to them.
It's such an ugly, complicated tangle of emotions, and he has no idea what to do with it. He trails off, shaking his head.]
She came to me, after the trial. Wanting to understand. I told her as much of the truth as I could, and she still...
[She still acted like she couldn't understand. It's not that he doesn't believe Sanji, it's just--not fair.
It's childish, and he knows it. But that's why he's here, seeking his own comfort.]
[Spoken without hurt and followed by the barest hint of a smile, because no one understands their relationship like they do. It's not so much that Sanji doesn't care about Yasusada on his own merits -- only that he is aware of what he stands for, and why the sword has chosen to follow him. Everything Sanji has done has been in service to that one, shared truth. There's no reason to be insulted.
But... Damn. Another ugly piece of the puzzle is what he thinks as he hears Yasusada vent his grief and frustration. Sanji said his piece in order to offer solace to the sword, but it certainly rings hollow when one considers that Flayn was essentially given full pardon where Yasusada never would be granted that same benefit.
They knew that from the start, of course. It's part of the reason why Sanji was so damn sure his plan to get Yasusada convicted and killed would work. People cared about him up until the moment he was too feral a dog for them to handle, and that's how it has always been.
Even knowing this, Sanji can't help how his mouth pulls into a slight frown, both his head and ears canted in the other's direction as he considers this new information. He's still not angry at Flayn, not really -- he was allowed to feel her remorse, her regret, her frustrations... but that was because it was a shared moment between them, with all of their secrets laid bare.
Yasusada hadn't been afforded the luxury. No matter if it hadn't been on purpose, Flayn had held all of the pieces, and they've all had to bear watching the living forgive without the dead having their chance to speak.
It's likely no one, except maybe Flayn herself, is giving Yasusada any consideration on how he feels about the entire matter.]
She owes you an apology.
[Spoken firmly, though he isn't sure how good that'll do in the long run.]
Honestly, I think everyone does, but shit like that's not gonna happen when they're too busy congratulating themselves on earning the forgiveness they wanted.
[It's like Sanji said at the beginning: this shit has always been a popularity contest, and those who are most loved will get away with anything, including murder.
Maybe that's why the entire fiasco has put such a bad taste in his mouth.]
[Maybe she does. Yasusada smiles a little bit, but it's humorless; he looks down at the sword in his lap, already rusted beyond repair, and wonders, vaguely, if he ever looked the same. After the first century or so, he'd drifted off.]
I'm not sure I want one.
[If he's honest.
And Sanji's right--no one is going to apologize to him. He can't even be that angry about it, because he didn't think the group of them deserved his full truth. Even to those who knew him, knew the truth, he must seem terribly selfish, the only person willing to bloody his hands in order to save the person most precious to him. He never told anyone that they'd been worried about maintaining the balance, never mentioned that they suspected there might've been external powers at play (which they weren't even wrong about, in the end). And he certainly never breathed a word about how he and Sanji had their own traumas to cope with, how hard they struggled with their own willingness to kill, to die--their desire for any form of action, for any semblance of a choice.
But isn't that what the killers who came forward were trying to say? Isn't that the whole point they were trying to make--that everyone's hands were tied, that there was no real choice? They were forced to weigh the value of certain lives, and chose accordingly. Yasusada did the same. The only real difference is that no one was forced to step in to fill his shoes after he died--and maybe they'd view that as selfishness, or freedom, but. Yasusada doesn't really care anymore.
He's always been hard to handle. He told the saniwa as much. The past six weeks have simply proven him correct.
He sighs, shifting forward to lay the rusted blade out alongside the others. He puts the cloth down beside the bowl--there's still a little lemon juice left, but he's done for now, it seems.]
...I just want to see Okita-kun.
[Sanji's been a treasured companion, a huge comfort, a vice commander to guide him in a place that would have otherwise left him adrift and helpless. He won't forget that, and he values it deeply. But just as Yasusada's relationship with the saniwa will always be a little off-center, it's much the same here. He expects the same from Sanji--Yasusada isn't his swordsman, no matter what they might share in this place.
It is truly fortunate that they seem to be near their goal, because Yasusada's quite certain that most of them, especially the dead, are very, very done.]
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no subject
I-- I wasn't able to tell you about the role shit.
[And believe him, Yasusada, he tried, only to be frozen in place until he sighed and moved on.]
no subject
You tried, when I asked. [Would he have liked to get a better hint, earlier on? Sure, of course. Maybe, if it weren't for everything else they'd just learned, he would be a little bit more hurt. But as it stands--] And you still involved me. [...] You trusted me.
[Which is... the main reason he's upset, really. Sanji was the only person who gave him anything concrete to work with. Anything at all, beyond vague declarations of grandeur with no apparent basis. No one besides Sanji even attempted to imply that they had any idea what was happening, and certainly no one seemed truly willing to let him help.
Yasusada knows that he's not human. He doesn't even do a good job at pretending, because he doesn't want to. He's proud of what he is, and has no desire to be anything else. And for a weapon who served at the side of the captain of the first unit of the Shinsengumi, a brilliant man and a prodigy in his own right, feeling so unreliable and untrustworthy... isn't nice.]
no subject
[a quiet hum. So that's what it is.
And Sanji can't say anything because... Yasusada's not wrong to harbor his disappointment. The roles in this game divided them all into factions, so to speak, and left those cursed with responsibility living double lives.
Shit, it's been even worse than what he put up with in the castle, and his eyes drift around their surroundings, taking in the familiar aged stone. Here? He could count on others to reveal his intentions if the necessity arose -- and in that way, extend trust and knowledge to those who were purposefully made naive.
The camp, however, proved to be a lot crueler than expected. It feels like everyone is paying the price for it, too.]
You've got a right to be upset.
[A pause]
I know from experience we couldn't say anything, but...
[Regardless of that fact, he won't let anyone take that frustration away from Yasusada. Fuck the living and their quick forgiveness. The dead are allowed their grudges if they want to keep them]
no subject
[Which ended up being useless because he got her killed, in the end. But she gave him something tangible to hold onto. Proof that things were happening around them, instead of just promises that, from the outside, seemed terribly empty.
He knows the murderers couldn't have confessed. It's not like he was expecting them to. But to be given nothing, even from the people you wanted to trust--it stings.]
...Tonbokiri-san didn't speak to me at all. [Which hurts a lot, if he's honest. He knew Ookurikara and Lili had their own team, and they'd both made it very clear they had no interest in genuinely seeking his help, no matter how Lili tried to act as though he'd given her leave to be a stand-in commander.] And Flayn-kun--
[His grip tightens on the cloth in his hand, and he shakes his head. He doesn't even know where to begin, with Flayn. He poured his heart out to her in the face of her anger and tears, told her in plain words that he could no longer stay his hand for nothing but impassioned words, and all she'd said was you're going to fight tomorrow, right?
And to think, just the other day, he'd told Yin Yu he was sure she had a killing role. He hadn't expected to be this correct.]
no subject
Tch, of course he didn't. He was too busy making promises to protect people he couldn't. [And that's not exactly fair when Sanji of all people knows how it feels to be trapped into your role, but god does Sanji have so many problems with the people Tonbokiri chose to hurt. At least Magnus's reasoning was sound: he went after those who could fight back, and just happened to win.
So much for trust in the spear. It'll still be some time before Sanji decides if he can face his former cabinmate without wanting to kick him in the balls.
... But ah. Flayn's name... stills him into place as an unbidden memory is dredged up to the surface. He hasn't told Yasusada yet -- how could he would he's only recently gotten his memories back?
It probably won't help -- heck, Yasusada is allowed his anger no matter what, but Sanji releases a sigh and stares at the ceiling, preparing to speak.]
I'm not saying you got to forgive her, but she was... miserable that night. And offered to die in my place.
[...]
Partly because I found her, y'know? That Tuesday, I found out she had a role, and introduced her to Akira and me. Her title was Wicket.
[...]
And then on the night of the murder when I touched her shoulder, I could feel all of her regret and self-loathing. Even if it's just because of my role, I think she wanted me to live more than anything. But we couldn't convince Magnus to let me go, and I wasn't willing to trade her life for mine.
[A shrug]
I doubt Magnus would've let me go either way.
no subject
The sound of Sanji's sigh has him looking over, uncertainty in his eyes. He didn't stay long enough to hear the way the others began to remember their own deaths, so this is a surprise to him.
There's a sullen set to his mouth the longer Sanji speaks, though to his credit, he doesn't interrupt. He's so old, compared to humans, but as a spirit, he's still so very young. That comes through, now, with how clear it is, the way he's struggling with what he's hearing. He doesn't like it, because he's angry with her, right now. He doesn't want to hear about what she wanted, or didn't want.
But he listens, which. Is about as much grace as he's got in him, right now. It's not much, but it's something. A sign, perhaps, that he won't be angry forever.]
...I wouldn't have killed him just for you. [Which would, perhaps, be a cruel thing to say to anybody but Sanji. But he thinks Sanji understands what he means. The goal, in the end, was always to save their people, if they couldn't break the game. It's an acknowledgment that he wouldn't have wrecked everything they worked towards, no matter how much Sanji's death hurt him. The way he'd lunged for Magnus, that day--it was about everything that was stolen from them, because of Magnus's choice of victim that night.
This isn't about Magnus, though. He grudgingly forgave that. Flayn, on the other hand...]
...Flayn-kun--she was... [He pauses, his own tail twitching in frustration as he tries to figure out what he wants to say.] ...she was so upset with me, about Yu-kun. But when it was me, for you...
[It wasn't fair, is what he means. Flayn got the chance to mourn, to grieve publicly and without judgment, even though she knew better than most that death was a necessary part of this game. But with the way Sanji's death was presented, with how it was "justified"... even if she'd caught alongside Magnus, it was never going to look the same to everyone else's eyes. Yasusada never stood a chance, compared to them.
It's such an ugly, complicated tangle of emotions, and he has no idea what to do with it. He trails off, shaking his head.]
She came to me, after the trial. Wanting to understand. I told her as much of the truth as I could, and she still...
[She still acted like she couldn't understand. It's not that he doesn't believe Sanji, it's just--not fair.
It's childish, and he knows it. But that's why he's here, seeking his own comfort.]
no subject
[Spoken without hurt and followed by the barest hint of a smile, because no one understands their relationship like they do. It's not so much that Sanji doesn't care about Yasusada on his own merits -- only that he is aware of what he stands for, and why the sword has chosen to follow him. Everything Sanji has done has been in service to that one, shared truth. There's no reason to be insulted.
But... Damn. Another ugly piece of the puzzle is what he thinks as he hears Yasusada vent his grief and frustration. Sanji said his piece in order to offer solace to the sword, but it certainly rings hollow when one considers that Flayn was essentially given full pardon where Yasusada never would be granted that same benefit.
They knew that from the start, of course. It's part of the reason why Sanji was so damn sure his plan to get Yasusada convicted and killed would work. People cared about him up until the moment he was too feral a dog for them to handle, and that's how it has always been.
Even knowing this, Sanji can't help how his mouth pulls into a slight frown, both his head and ears canted in the other's direction as he considers this new information. He's still not angry at Flayn, not really -- he was allowed to feel her remorse, her regret, her frustrations... but that was because it was a shared moment between them, with all of their secrets laid bare.
Yasusada hadn't been afforded the luxury. No matter if it hadn't been on purpose, Flayn had held all of the pieces, and they've all had to bear watching the living forgive without the dead having their chance to speak.
It's likely no one, except maybe Flayn herself, is giving Yasusada any consideration on how he feels about the entire matter.]
She owes you an apology.
[Spoken firmly, though he isn't sure how good that'll do in the long run.]
Honestly, I think everyone does, but shit like that's not gonna happen when they're too busy congratulating themselves on earning the forgiveness they wanted.
[It's like Sanji said at the beginning: this shit has always been a popularity contest, and those who are most loved will get away with anything, including murder.
Maybe that's why the entire fiasco has put such a bad taste in his mouth.]
no subject
I'm not sure I want one.
[If he's honest.
And Sanji's right--no one is going to apologize to him. He can't even be that angry about it, because he didn't think the group of them deserved his full truth. Even to those who knew him, knew the truth, he must seem terribly selfish, the only person willing to bloody his hands in order to save the person most precious to him. He never told anyone that they'd been worried about maintaining the balance, never mentioned that they suspected there might've been external powers at play (which they weren't even wrong about, in the end). And he certainly never breathed a word about how he and Sanji had their own traumas to cope with, how hard they struggled with their own willingness to kill, to die--their desire for any form of action, for any semblance of a choice.
But isn't that what the killers who came forward were trying to say? Isn't that the whole point they were trying to make--that everyone's hands were tied, that there was no real choice? They were forced to weigh the value of certain lives, and chose accordingly. Yasusada did the same. The only real difference is that no one was forced to step in to fill his shoes after he died--and maybe they'd view that as selfishness, or freedom, but. Yasusada doesn't really care anymore.
He's always been hard to handle. He told the saniwa as much. The past six weeks have simply proven him correct.
He sighs, shifting forward to lay the rusted blade out alongside the others. He puts the cloth down beside the bowl--there's still a little lemon juice left, but he's done for now, it seems.]
...I just want to see Okita-kun.
[Sanji's been a treasured companion, a huge comfort, a vice commander to guide him in a place that would have otherwise left him adrift and helpless. He won't forget that, and he values it deeply. But just as Yasusada's relationship with the saniwa will always be a little off-center, it's much the same here. He expects the same from Sanji--Yasusada isn't his swordsman, no matter what they might share in this place.
It is truly fortunate that they seem to be near their goal, because Yasusada's quite certain that most of them, especially the dead, are very, very done.]