[Those words are enough of a slap to the face, and then the song starts, and he recognizes it from the first note. The key it's in, the instrumentals. There are conflicting feelings in him, right now. He wants to get up and interrupt it, to grab Wataru by the shoulders and defend himself, but...
He doesn't have the right. There is no defense that could justify this. He did this for his own, ephemeral and vain dream. His short life. He put himself first because no one else would, and he pressed and pushed and shoved to survive. That's how it felt. That's how he was raised.
More than that, the reason he's not stopping him now... is something like karma. Something like putting himself in Wataru's shoes. Is this how it felt to sit through his own attacks without standing up? Was it a choice, or was he truly pinned to the ground by the throat?
Eichi's eyes are cold. His blood is pumping hard from a too-quick beating heart, upset and rage are mixing with sadness and self-deprecation, and he... claps. Slow and quiet. It looks like he's being hollowed out by this.]
Even with this, you sound more perfect than I could ever imagine being. [His clapping stops, and his shaking hands drop back to his lap, but they clutch at his knees too tightly.]
But even still, I'm aware that you're human. Nothing is truly "perfect". You're a God among men, but you're still just a teenage boy. What does that mean, I wonder...? I've been held to those same standards, you know? If I'm any less, I'll fade into obscurity and exist only as an heir to my family's company. Do you understand that?
[He breathes out.]
If this is your direct attack... if this is your revenge, then I'll gladly grab your hands holding the hilt of this sword and walk directly into it. Is that what you're looking for, Wataru? [This time, he calls him just by Wataru.]
no subject
He doesn't have the right. There is no defense that could justify this. He did this for his own, ephemeral and vain dream. His short life. He put himself first because no one else would, and he pressed and pushed and shoved to survive. That's how it felt. That's how he was raised.
More than that, the reason he's not stopping him now... is something like karma. Something like putting himself in Wataru's shoes. Is this how it felt to sit through his own attacks without standing up? Was it a choice, or was he truly pinned to the ground by the throat?
Eichi's eyes are cold. His blood is pumping hard from a too-quick beating heart, upset and rage are mixing with sadness and self-deprecation, and he... claps. Slow and quiet. It looks like he's being hollowed out by this.]
Even with this, you sound more perfect than I could ever imagine being. [His clapping stops, and his shaking hands drop back to his lap, but they clutch at his knees too tightly.]
But even still, I'm aware that you're human. Nothing is truly "perfect". You're a God among men, but you're still just a teenage boy. What does that mean, I wonder...? I've been held to those same standards, you know? If I'm any less, I'll fade into obscurity and exist only as an heir to my family's company. Do you understand that?
[He breathes out.]
If this is your direct attack... if this is your revenge, then I'll gladly grab your hands holding the hilt of this sword and walk directly into it. Is that what you're looking for, Wataru? [This time, he calls him just by Wataru.]