[A muscle jumps in his jaw at atonement is not beyond thy reach; it rubs too close to the sort of thing Aki always says, and the only thing that really stays his temper in the moment is her acknowledgment that the one who really holds the right to judge him, to hate him, is Amada. He exhales out the frustration, a harsh rush of air that does nothing to make him seem less worn out as the anger drains away.]

He's already here, actually. ...Look, it's--complicated. He did want me dead, back then.

[So much so that he was ready to give up on his own life the moment he realized that Shinjiro was already dying and so revenge would be meaningless.]

But to him, I've already been in the ground a couple years, and now things're different. Hell, he's acting like what happened to me was on him, when the way things went down was my fault, too.

[He draws his knees in to his chest, then, her grip on his sleeve the only lingering tether between them, and when he speaks next he sounds almost angry, but there's too deep an undercurrent of misery there for anger to be the full story.]

...Gettin' real tired of people tellin' me to move on with my life, though. Just wipe it all away like nothing ever happened, right? Like it's that fucking simple.