[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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[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.]