Chapter Text
Gundham sips his juice pouch. He isn't especially fond of hospitals, and technically this isn't one, but he'd still been stripped down to a patient's yukata upon pod-extraction and given a once-over on his way out. He's also been receiving regular 'Do you know what day of the week it is? The year?' sort of questions since then, along with other similar tests of his cognitive abilities, his memory, and physicality. He wasn't 'in there' for long, and 'dead' within it even shorter, but long enough for it to take some toll. It took him a day to regain his ability to speak, and he's harshly aware that the bits and pieces of human language he had picked up over the past few years have fled his consciousness, much like he'd been a half a decade ago. It feels odd to compare himself to 16-year-old Gundham, but that is who he's been most recently, isn't it? And so it makes sense that that's who he'd feel most like. He certainly doesn't want to feel like Gundham from only weeks ago. He squeezes it and chews hard on the straw. The juice is gone, but he's still gnawing away - he's not entirely ready to talk to anyone yet and knows it will be expected of him the moment his mouth is free to the world again. Besides, if by chance some extreme amount of eviscerating plastic with his teeth would get him released from the faux-sterile prison, he would like to at least give it a shot. Maybe they'll return him to his cabin now?
When he looks up there are eyes on him, and they do not seem to be ones ready to hand him a cottage key. Hands folded politely in his lap, Nekomaru is staring down at him with great force, and Gundham is holding his gaze right back, squinting, scowling, making himself look busy with his juice pouch. They weren't able to recover any more of his clothes. The place he'd told them about, where he'd been holed up before it was determined that they should 'turn themselves in', has been destroyed in the time since his capture. The Future Foundation scarcely enjoys knowing he is alive, and so it logically follows that he'd be told that they would absolutely not spare members to search through rubble for his comfortable boots or his custom-tailored coat. Disappointing nonetheless - so for now it's generic clothing that makes him feel underdressed. Exposed. Plain. Masked. He has his scarf, though. It still smells vaguely of gasoline, and provides some cover for when he'd like to hide away. He doesn't get away with his juice gambit forever. He knew he wouldn't, but the fact it's all over in one small, fatal mistake of idly lifting the scarf's edge up to his nose and burying part of his face in it, which seems to indicate in the (no longer) tinman's eyes that he's ready to take on the day, is crushing.
"You feelin' better?" Gundham grunts a negative, but his rehabilitator must take it as an affirmative, because he claps a hand onto his back and shakes him around with a laugh, "Good! Told you you were probably just runnin' a little low on fuel. Know how that feels." Nekomaru nudges him but it’s really not that funny. "Ready to get a move on, then?"
The exercise portion of his easing back into analogue life has been rough enough...Gundham's logic goes straight to the next possible alternative, and the iciness of anxiety that blooms out of his black hole core begins to draw him in. His knees lift off of the floor onto the side of the cot he's sat on and he pulls them into his chest, guarding the frigid hole there. Maybe he can backtrack. "...If the heavenly mare has drawn aback the coast's silver-foam fractal—"
"It's high tide, anyway. You're movin' alright, I want to get you talkin'!"
Fuck. In a fraction of a moment, he assesses all the possible implications. There are some that have still yet to awaken from their simulation-induced comatose states: Mikan (her 'unstable reference of reality' had been noted as a potential cause, citing Gundham's own experiences, which he's not too keen to re-explain, especially with the Alter Ego program so chipper and ready to spell out to him his various neurotic tendencies - and her absence is hence the reason Nekomaru is in charge of his...rehabilitation), Ibuki (something to do with Despair Disease and its complications on the physical body, potentially), Byakuya - Ryota? - The Nameless One and Teruteru (both still having their simulated actions monitored), and Nagito (under near-constant medical surveillance, usually by Hajime (‘Izuru’?), but occasionally handed off to the next-nearest capable technician). They are off the table. Even if they weren't, his interest in them is...minimal. Unless they've suddenly made a very large decision and he's going to be carted off to speak with the Future Foundation members again, the most comfortable interaction of ‘ talkin'’ he can hope for is Peko or Sonia. And despite the talks they've had, briefly and against Gundham's better judgement (and perhaps his will, if one were generous in allowing him to still have one), Kazuichi has been...
...on the roster. Of potential alive-and-well candidates to re-introduce Gundham to.
Mostly-scarf, he looks up with as rancid an aura as he can possibly radiate up at Nekomaru, who's already standing. It's too early, surely. Surely Kazuichi is in some throes of sleeplessness so intense that introducing a companion would be foolhardy and fruitless. Or perhaps asleep! Maybe he's even still in bed! Gundham hasn't been given the time to put on his face. It's all raw, rough and scarred and covered in too-pale, overblown, shaky-handed jagged tattoo lines and eyebags that aren't even cool looking , just sickly.
The good-naturedness vacates Nekomaru's face. Gundham doubles down. Remains seated. "Listen, we can do this the easy way if you wanna."
"There is no easy path to redemption."
"You said it! So we're doing it the hard way, then? Brave! I like it!"
"I will not be taking consultations under the current moon phase."
"Moon better change within the next ten minutes, because that's just about how long I'm giving you before we wrestle it out again."
"Power is not my limiting factor! You know for certain I would destroy you!"
"Gundham, pal."
The look says all it needs to. To spend eternity locked with what is to remain of the squad of archdevils is his fate, and the sooner he comes to terms with their confinement here with him, the sooner he may begin to fraternise again. It did feel nice, once. Perhaps somewhat uniquely among his peers, he was sent into the Program with a deep heartache that mirrored that in his young self in many ways - lonely then, and lonely now. The feeling of having hope after so long is still tantalisingly close. It feels closer and realer than that of the before-times, anyway, not that he can rely on this relativity forever. No, inevitably, there will be more misfortune. Misfortune that he has the ability to allay by his own hand if he is to just lock himself away. What a lot of good isolation did him, though.
The tinman, back in his fleshen suit, sighs heavily and puts the meat on his mechanical bones to awful use. "We're doin' this as a team. I know we scuffed it the last couple tries, but that just means we oughta try again. I know you're screwed up," Gundham tries to parse the expression on his face, but is too distracted in scowling at the way Nekomaru insists upon having his pinkie finger up one nostril, "but you don't have to be perfect to get out there."
Gundham squints.
"...Come on, are you gonna step all over the gifts you've been given?"
That one hurts. He scoffs and averts his eyes, looking at the corner of the room. Naegi - yes, despite being his underclassman, he feels it necessary to refer to him with a little bit of tact - has given him too much. More than he deserves. A considerably large cage stands by the door, and a great racket radiates as its inhabitants in each section prepare separately for their slumber. Hajime has given him too much. Nekomaru has given him too much. It's not unlike having a bowl of food set expectantly in front of him, to see Nekomaru stand by the open door - thankfully, when he flicks the detritus he's dug out of his cranium it's outside of Gundham's temporary quarters and into the hall instead - all but begging him. But isn't Kazuichi also behind the clatter of glassware? Is he not stood there, pleading more quietly, to let him alone? To leave him to his devices? Surely. Gundham stands up. If he's going to do it, he's going to be efficient about it, and he is not going to pout further. He will clean himself up and face the battle ahead.
Nekomaru flashes him a grin. "That's right. I know forcing you doesn't make it feel like any accomplishment...but being able to do it at all is good for ya."
"The tourmaline maul…" What remains of his lineage of Devas are coming off of quite a break from close husbandry efforts, but he has not been stopped from bringing them everywhere with him yet. "...are you spontaneously darkening his doorstep with the Hells' finest?"
"...what? No..."
Gundham coaxes curious hamsters into his sleeves, expecting Nekomaru to explain, but he does not. He huffs, closes the cage door, and stands, relieved slightly by the little feet and claws on his skin as his soldiers find their formation. He bows and flourishes Nekomaru out of the room. He'd take the lead if he knew where they were going, but he's been trying his best to keep from being privy to Kazuichi's day-to-day activities. If he were, his excuses to stay away from him would number less and less. Please have it be so that Nekomaru had at least warned Kazuichi of their arrival.
***
"...you're kidding, right? What does Gundham's rehabilitation have to do with me?" Kazuichi was staring at Hajime as if he had said the strangest thing in the world, wires still in his hands from an automatic he was messing with on request of his other classmates. It'd been a little while since the man in question had emerged from the program, much to the joy of everyone. Kazuichi was certainly glad he was alive, but it's not like they talked. They just didn't really have that kind of relationship, at least he didn't think so. In the Program itself, he and Gundham hadn't been close. They hardly spoke, and when they did, they'd just argued. Those memories were the freshest in his mind and while there were plenty of older ones that confirmed that dynamic, there were other ones that gave him weird feelings. Ones that made him feel like...they weren't friends but they weren't not friends either. Anything complicated like that, Kazuichi has opted to shove away for the time being. Contradictory school memories and most of his time as a 'remnant' were things he'd rather not pay attention to with far more important things to worry about. In other words, he was trying to be as mature and put together as his peers were. Not that it always worked.
"Nekomaru thinks it would be a good idea." Hajime had explained. "You two will be seeing each other more sooner or later, and as his support, I trust his judgement."
"I get you're super smart now, but seriously? That guy doesn't exactly like me."
"That's not the point. It could be helpful for you, too."
"In what way? Besides, I'm—"
"Not busy with anything I can't handle."
Kazuichi frowns. While it was pretty cool his friend had become a super genius, it did make him feel a bit less useful. The one thing he provided for the group wasn't even uniquely his anymore so it left him with… Feelings he could unpack at a much later date.
"Consider it practise. All you need to do is do what you always do. Showing them some normalcy can be helpful."
But wouldn't normalcy with Gundham just make everyone involved stressed out? He doesn’t want to outright say no, but it's not like he has any idea on what he should even say to the guy. It'd be weird if they had a regular conversation. Had they ever had a regular conversation? So he sat fiddling with a wall clock as he waited for Nekomaru and… well, it felt a little rude to call Gundham any sort of nickname right now, even in his head. They might not be on good terms, but Kazuichi is deeply aware of what everyone is going through right now and sort of feels like he might be cursed with cosmic karma if he makes fun of someone so casually right now. He waves when he sees them, his smile turning awkward as he and Gundham make eye contact. He looks worse for wear, the intense glare that are his eyes not at all helping. Maybe it’s a mix of poor sleep and depression, but Kazuichi is hit by an aura that makes him uncomfortable. And he had to hang out with this guy for how long? "Hey, Nekomaru," the awkward feeling is in his tone and he busies his hands with his screwdriver as he tries not to direct too much attention to the other man, "You needed my help, right?"
Anguish.
At least it's a relatively quiet area. Neutral ground. Good for introducing animals to each other - no established territory. Gundham can't help but still feel distressingly submissive to the gaze, though, and so...holds it. Strongly. He doesn't pull it up, but he does lower his face into the scarf around his neck while he stares with great intensity at Kazuichi. He's not been addressed. He won't say anything… "Wise action," he mutters, referring to the way Kazuichi avoids his eye and directs questions away from him. But that's all he'll say! That's it. He just needed the one.
Nekomaru touches him again, giving him a pat on the back, and his expression somehow continues to harden. "Yeah! Here. Sit down," the hand on Gundham's back guides him to one of the breakroom chairs. He doesn't sit at first - just squints at Kazuichi, trying to convey that he's quite resentful of the whole interaction, and so, as a result, if Kazuichi is also quite miserable, it's only mostly his fault, but not entirely. Nekomaru has no small part in it. Kazuichi can't at all hide his visible discomfort. He knows Gundham doesn’t like him, but…this is a lot more dislike than he had anticipated. He can’t exactly blame him, but it made this whole thing a lot harder. How could he play nice if the guy looked like he was trying to make him drop dead with just a look?
"I'm gettin' breakfast for real. You eaten yet, Kazuichi? I know Gundham hasn't." Nekomaru breaks the ice for them.
"Of course I ate!" Kazuichi says rather proudly as he moves all the parts of the clock he has scattered around the table closer. "I needed to fix a door this morning so I had to eat early." Not that Nekomaru would approve of how much he had eaten, exactly, but he decided he didn't need to know that part. He glances over at Gundham again. Does he really need to be burning holes into him like that? He knew he wouldn't want to talk to him, but it was way worse than he thought it would be. Maybe it isn't just him; Gundham is pretty antisocial after all. They make eye contact. Kazuichi feels like he should say something yet nothing comes, his eyes darting around only to settle back on his little project. He picks up one of the gears of the clock. It wouldn't distract him for very long, but it would help. As long as Nekomaru doesn't leave them alone. It would be bearable.
…But of course, the next time he looks up it's just Gundham left in the room.
The look on Gundham's face softens… a little. His average look still includes a dark lingering shadow under his brow and permanent lines in his forehead, but he takes this time to avert his eyes, finally giving both of them a break. He knows it wasn't pretending - that while they'd spent time together in the Dream, they didn't know each other. It wasn't a conscious effort to ignore and be ignored, and so if it were to stop now, that would make the most sense. Like initiating a greeting after a long absence. And if he doesn't, likely, the spiral will continue from there, ever onward, worse and worse, until the rift between them is too wide. Would he mind that terribly, though? He raises a hand to scratch at his cheek. The noise causes one of his soldiers to move to that locale and sit, warm, under his ear. He turns his head to put his lips upon them and gives them a quiet kiss on top of the head. It helps the pounding of his heart. A little. "You may speak," he says, eventually, lifting his face from his scarf, coursing with momentary confidence as he folds his hands on the table. "Align yourself with the trajectory you most desire and bask in the benevolent whim of the reborn son, who will fall in your pace this once."
That causes Kazuichi to frown. It's nice to know Gundham isn't different, but it also serves to annoy him. "I wasn't waiting for permission." It's weird, really. In recent memory, he hardly grasped any of that flowery language but now he suddenly does. It makes sense, he would've spent more time with him in the past, but it hurts his brain to just know things now . "You don't want to be here any more than I do, so there's nothing to talk about." Asking the basic questions would just lead them in circles and it's not like he knew enough about Gundham to know anything they could even discuss. Though, him initiating the conversation like that implies they're not going to be separated for a little while yet. Annoying. Soon, the ticking of the clock joins their silence, a smile spreading over Kazuichi's face as he turns it over to watch the hands move. With everything he's built, pulling apart and putting back together a clock is a breeze, but it doesn't stop the spark of joy he gets from completing it. "Now we can actually read the time." He says to himself, standing up and walking over to a far table that he climbs on top of in order to remount the thing. He seems awfully proud of himself, wandering back over only for his mood to easily sour upon remembering the situation. "...the, uh...that clock apparently stopped working, so I was fixing it." He awkwardly explains as if Gundham couldn't have guessed that.
Gundham follows him with his eyes. The dry irritation doesn't quite make it through, and he knows it. "What necessity of time telling do we have in the enemy's lair," he mutters - it's...sort of a joke, sort of intended to...he doesn't know. Engage? "Tossing you clocks for your scheduled enrichment..." He makes a little scoffing noise, and, now focused on watching the second hand tick around, looks at Kazuichi only briefly out of the corner of his eye, "You're sure its mechanism only failed? Have you not learned your lesson in sniffing about for foul play?" Maybe it's a distasteful joke, but he's been hanging around Nekomaru, who's been routinely making much worse ones.
"...yeah, I'm pretty sure it failed." Kazuichi gives him a weird look, an uncomfortable one. "It just had a couple of loose parts." He'd much rather not imagine someone was messing with the clock intentionally. After everything that had happened...it would just be horrifying if anyone was thinking like that. "Besides, kind of need to know the time if we need to have any meetings. Aren't schedules important for your animals or whatever?"
"Kff..." Gundham steels his nerves, but the slight deflating of his confident figure is still noticeable. He loosens up a little with a roll of his shoulders. There's so little to look at in here...at least within the Dream things were constantly happening. If Fuyuhiko had gone to bed when he should, and if as a result Gundham had forfeited his body...at the very least, his life would be much more straightforward from here. Certainly wouldn't be dealing with this, all for someone to bring him breakfast he'll likely be struggling to keep down later, anyway. Today is not a good day for this. He shouldn't be here. His mere presence poisons the room. "They...are indeed. Your enrichment is still a honed talent and necessary service," he gives in through a clenched jaw, not quite disgusted with himself enough to shut up. After a period of time much too short to truly think through the consequences of such an action, he says, "...How is it you've distinguished between the unrelenting and eternal ill hand you were dealt since the conception of your being, and curses bestowed in despairing haste, ones that yet may lift with effort?"
Kazuichi stares at Gundham blankly. He might be a bit better at understanding him, but that didn't mean he could catch everything. He groans, leaning back on the chair. "Yeah man, you sound like you're spouting nonsense," He narrows his eyes, a long silence between them as he tries to decipher even one thing from the question. "...nope, I got nothing." He shakes his head. "I kind of get it, but the words you're saying in that order don't really..." Kazuichi frowns, awkwardly rubbing his neck. He should be patient. That's something he is trying to be better about.
A cold sweat breaks out over Gundham, and he crosses his arms over his chest while he tries to think of another way to phrase the question – not an easy task. He stares past him for a moment and, less than politely, tries again with slight variation: "...You have a sense now for which runes inscribed upon your soul are permanent and familiar. Which ones spurred your rebellion and bolstered your defences long ago...and which...and which to carve away. Which were designed at the gem-studded serpent queen's behest. Yes?"
Kazuichi looks even more confused. "Are you trying to give me a puzzle? I know you can speak normally, dude." He leans forward, resting his head on his hand as he closes his eyes tight. "You're saying..." He pouts in concentration. "That now that I have my memories...how do I...know what's real?" He opens one eye as if to try and gauge Gundham's expression, scratching his head in frustration. "Man, if that's all you wanted to ask, you could be a lot more straightforward! It's too early for brainteasers! How do you even think them up so easily..." Regardless of if he was right or not, it's what Kazuichi has gathered from it and he isn't going to deal with another unnecessarily long question. "...I guess...I don't? I don't think anyone does." He stares off at a wall, the conversation much more serious than he is personally eager about. "Why? Are you worried about something?"
Gundham opens his mouth to correct him, but finds that either way, the conversation seems to be nearing the points he'd intended to hit. It's understandable that the others aren't keenly interested in sharing thoughts of their purposeful transgressions to humanity's very essence, but...but he can't figure out how they can just move on, either! He can't. It taints his every breath. "It would be foolish if I weren't." While true, he glosses over that admittance and continues, his crossed arms turning more into a self-hug. It's cold in here - he's cold. That's all. "You experienced these distortions more linearly than I did, right?" Kazuichi was one of the survivors. Gundham remembers very little except a great scrambled mess from after his passing, including the grand image of their Ultimate Blueprint; Miss Enoshima. "And so something in that time unlocked within you a hunger strong enough to awaken you, even to the prospect of reparation that awaited beyond the veil. And so you did, willingly, with fervour. "I just wonder how. What really changed? I'm still the same being I was, anyway." He's already had this conversation with others, to varying degrees of success. None of them have had answers that satisfied him.
"I think you have the wrong idea. The only person who really changed was Hajime." Kazuichi looks uncomfortable just thinking about it, grabbing his braid and tugging on it. "I did what I had to to get to reality, yeah, but it's not like any of it is gone..." How should he put this? He hadn't really talked about any of his feelings with anyone. Gundham was actually the first one to even ask a question close to how he was doing and he gets the feeling it's more for personal closure than anything else. It's not that anything in him had changed, he was just following the tide. He was doing what he needed to do to help his classmates and Future Foundation. If he stops to really think about anything he'll probably be just as depressed as Gundham is, so it isn’t an option. The world is still in disarray and his life is still on the line. In many ways, it's like he'd never left the killing game in the first place. Though, instead of explaining any of that and telling Gundham how he was being so headstrong about it all, he groans in a rather defensive manner, "Why are you asking me, anyway? If you're looking for advice I'm the absolute wrong person to ask. You've got friends, ask them!"
Even with the venomous answer, Gundham mentally notes it. No one has changed. It's new, at least. Sure, it's probably true in a strictly logical sense, but there's been so much talk of being renewed, second chances, renewed hearts and minds. Even the more morose of them - Sonia, notably - has told him about some sort of switch inside, as if there were something he could do to flip it back to 'hope' should he just dig around enough. It is selfish in nature, but the fact that Kazuichi has said anything other than 'you have to find it yourself', or even 'here's how I figured it out' and then went on to say things that Gundham had either already tried or didn't understand, is fascinating. He places his sock-covered heels onto the chair beside him and rubs his knees. It looks painfully casual in these clothes, a motion that's meant to make him feel powerful and intimidating. He hums an acknowledgement. "I have ," He can't help the way his voice rises - in fact, if he even notices, it's not clear, because his tone isn't especially angry, just intense. "Whatever journey they are on, it is not shared with mine. Not an uncommon occurrence in the unlife of Tartarus' warden, but it- sucks ."
Honestly, Kazuichi is just surprised Gundham had said that in such an easy to understand way. And he sort of understands; having people you care about but none of them being open with you about what was going on. That was something that happened often in his own life. Not because he didn't ask, but because he just...wasn't someone people went to to vent. This isn't the conversation he had expected them to have, but at the very least it felt normal. He feels like for the first time in a while, he and Gundham are just two people. They don't really show each other vulnerability and Kazuichi isn't someone who found such things easy to handle, but...it is better than just being annoyed. He stares at the table. "There's a reason I'm not helping rehabilitate you guys so...don't take this super seriously." He doesn't even glance up, looking like he's actually having a hard time coming up with his next sentence, "But we're kind of...just not trying to think about it." At least that's what he's doing, so he assumes that's what was going on with everyone else. "Naegi is doing what he can to make sure we're not gunned down, and we're all working to get everyone together again. After that, there'll be talk of rebuilding Japan..." He looks exhausted just thinking about it. "There's not really any time to be down in the dumps about anything."
"What then for the pit-beast who has spent his aeons at the apex of the antlion's trap?!" It's much easier to get a little snappy with Kazuichi than it is with Sonia or Peko, he finds. "Scarcely do I remember how I escaped the dumps in the time spent fighting it." He remembers caring for his classmates, his stewardess, and his holy mother. Dearly. With the trinity scant a third of what it'd been, he sees more clearly that he'd always been... like that. He squints at Kazuichi and has a sudden desire for an equivalent exchange to take place as the universe works through him. "...but your reason is ? Who determined your unfit nature for such a thing?"
Kazuichi straightens up, getting more defensive now that Gundham’s sounding more upset. He thought he was being pretty reasonable in what he was saying, what made him feel like he had be angry with him about any of this? "Hajime...and Fuyuhiko...and Sonia... myself ." He sort of mumbles before shaking his head with a groan, "What's it to you, anyway? You clearly don't like or want my help, so why do you care if I'm helping with any of the mental stuff?!" Besides, his other question wasn't one Kazuichi could even answer. How do you stop feeling sad? The answer was you just don't , at least in his experience. You forget about it, but it's not gone. Even if he told Gundham that, he doubted he'd like the answer much. Or maybe he would – at least it’s realistic – but still . He'd practically admitted to only asking him as a last resort, so what’s he even looking for?
"The well from which I drink no longer matters to me. A desiccated spirit takes what it's capable of receiving." Really, it doesn't matter if it comes from Kazuichi or not. It'd be the same either way. But the information itself has value. The contact itself has value. Gundham shrugs, becoming defensive himself. Who cares why he's asking? He just is. He just wants to know. He would know better than any other what sort of input he needs in order to forge his own path, wouldn't he? Has he not made it excruciatingly clear enough that his mind doesn't operate on the same wavelength as mortal kind? "Through the haze of the Dream's domain though held on the riverbed I was, I still saw 'it'. Was not the ongoing action a plan to induce camaraderie?"
"That doesn't make any goddamn sense!" Kazuichi yanks his beanie off in frustration, stretching the material in his hands with an annoyed look. The dark roots of his hair that are showing are probably the only visual indication that he isn’t the same person he was several years ago. Not that he really acts like it. "There isn't some magic solution to make you stop being sad, so why are you getting angry at me about it?! You've got way more distractions than I do, why don't you focus on that? You can look at any god damn bird and list facts about it for hours, that's literally the easiest distraction any of us could have! Plus, people want to talk to you, so I don't know, maybe engage?" He can't exactly say why he's so upset, but he is, and...Kazuichi hadn't had time to create a verbal filter for himself. "You're asking how to stop being depressed, but fuck, that attitude is so annoying! Assuming I've got it all figured out and I'm just withholding it from you. You've got so much already right in front of you and instead of confiding with your friends and trying to be normal, you're acting like I'm a bad therapist! Yeah, all this is fucked up, we're all fucked up from it, but you actually have the privilege of being able to sit there and think about it so, I don't know, shut up about it for a while!?"
Gundham reacts with frustration, but no surprise. His shoulders, while before slowly tightening into a hunch, now drop with great drama. "What does it look like I'm doing?!" He sets his elbow on the table and leans his chin into it, "You run your mouth without knowing a single facet of what ‘ confiding’ I've been doing! I told you of my efforts! Oh, for shame, that I resist engulfing you in the depths of the frigid miasma!" He's not usually a sarcastic person, he's not sure why it's coming out this way, there's just something that nags him when it's Kazuichi doing the arguing. "My time dilates separately from the rest of you, but still have my few days passed before a blink of the eternal eye can take place!" Come on! Give him a break! He's less than a week out of the Stockade! "Not to mention no scry of mine upon your capabilities – beyond praise for your handiwork – has been made! Banish the thought! As if it isn't equally 'annoying'!"
"What it looks like is you're getting annoyed at me for giving you the best answer I can. Fucks sake, I watched you die! Pretty reasonable that I'm not open to talking about that and maybe you shouldn't be either! Unlike you, I'm busy. I have things I need to be doing to make sure we don't die for real, there's only so much I can offer you. I'm not your friend, and I sure as hell have no clue what I'm doing. I said that the way I'm dealing with it is ‘ I'm not’, why are you upset about that?" He can't even tell if they're really listening to each other, though him not really grasping exactly what Gundham is saying surely isn't helping their communication. He told him not to rely on his advice, and now he's getting upset that he’s been given bad advice. "Instead of wasting your time talking to me, spend time with your actual friends! Pretend that nothing bad ever happened, because that's literally the only thing keeping anyone sane right now! Focus in on the fact that the last thing you did was heroic compared to everyone else and put your damn narcissism to good use for once!"
Gundham puts his feet on the floor. Don't stand up. Don't stand up. Don't escalate this. "Then go ahead and replay the scene within your mind's eye as often as you need to find yourself peace in the karmic balance of it all! I do, quite often! 'Heroic'? Only in its end! In its intent, I was to fulfil my cosmic purpose! To bring about the End of All Things!" That's – not something he's admitted before. Sonia had spoken to him and spent so much time so absolutely convinced, giving him no breathing room to deny her – that the reason he had done what he did was solely, and entirely, a selfless act. And it was, in a way. He was not crushed by the outcome. He had weighed it as a possibility the entire time. If he had not been able to handle any of the possible ends to his journey he would not have set off upon it, but when it's directly in front of him, he won't say otherwise. No, the optimal outcome was his survival. Obviously. He didn't want to die. He was perfectly content with trading the remaining lives for his own. Again: if he wasn't, he wouldn't have done it. His voice is muffled as he shoves himself into his scarf, the clarity of his speech not helped by the fact that he's stopped shouting. "Being recognized for such a deed could bring me no comfort. How is bearing yet another mark of a killer forevermore a boon? I have failed in every sense of the word." Not even touching the fucking idea that he thought once that this is what he wanted so deeply, that his entire being is built upon the skeleton, calcified over great time in the hyper-concentrated evil solution he's been submerged in from birth. The idea that not wanting that mark in itself is a failure. Having been caught is a failure. Having been revived without Enoshima in his body was a failure.
Kazuichi glares at him, his heart beating in his stomach as he huffs. At least they both had the sense to not push this to where it became explosive. He pulls his hat back onto his head, looking off to the side as he grumbles to himself. "...you know, you're almost as bad as Komeada, with the way you talk about yourself." And based on how they both feel about that guy, it is far from anything positive, "Yeah. It's kind of fucked up what you did. Wild that I was someone defending you before you admitted it. But...the fact that you folded so easily and let yourself be voted out says that you're not as evil as you say you are. Someone truly evil would've denied it to the very end and not show any guilt at all. You said yourself that you despise murder and those who commit it...so I don't think you would've been able to live with yourself if you'd won."
"You don't know true evil..." Maybe he...was proud of it...! How about that?! And that's why he gave in. Maybe it was hubris. But he doesn't say this, and from what he knows of the hex upon his mouth, if he can not say it aloud, it defies all reality. "That bothers me little. The entire act was crafted so to provide me minimal guilt no matter its outcome," Really, truly, he'd love to get off of this topic. The discomfort he feels about the idea that Kazuichi, despite his snivelling and crying and Sonia-centric mind state at the time, could still recall Gundham's (at the time very heartfelt) cry for understanding in his last moments among his classmates may well freeze him solid if he dwells on it too long. It was not a speech meant for him. The fact that he had digested it like that anyway is… disconcerting.
"If everyone is saying what you did was good and not your fault and whatever else...isn't it better to believe them?" Kazuichi won't admit how much he had thought about that case after it had taken place. It was a mess, and even if he wasn't on great terms with Gundham, it felt wrong to watch him die and be labelled a murderer. People liked him. He was considered an all round good person by everyone in their class. No matter how many times Gundham called himself a ‘Dark Lord’, it wouldn't change the fact that he loved animals. As sure of a sign as any that he wasn't a sociopath.
Another thing Gundham would love to say is that he is not in the business of simply believing and adopting the image that others project upon him, but here they are, his being constructed out of that exact thing, and there's very little that he can do to protect himself from the blowback that blatant a lie would cause. Although, the fact that his actions would have consequences is comforting in a way. Gundham shakes his head a little. "I'm not used to it." To praise upon his moral standings, he means, "Say I accept the nobility attributed to my acts, that because of my punishment I have been cleansed in the eyes of the council…" He's not sure he wants to go down that path, actually. He grinds his teeth audibly. One of the hamsters in his scarf nibbles on his jaw. Normally it may call attention to the action and allow him to release the tension - at this moment all it does is serve to annoy him. He puts a hand under the scarf and palms the little beast, petting it atop the head with his thumb. "...little would be left of me. Before you baulk, listen hither - I am well aware of the disbelief held about the contents of my blood. No show of magical force or paranormal pomp can portray to those without senses to pick up on such power the true essence of my being. I understand this. But this does not change the nature of the black hole that powers my flesh." The magic bit is 'put up with' at best, and I realise that. But it is the only frame of reference for a sense of self that I have.
Kazuichi is doing his very best to grant the conversation the seriousness it deserves, but he finds himself laughing despite the painful expression that spreads across his face. "Didn't think I'd agree with you on something like that..." He refuses to elaborate, though the way he looks down and swallows hard might be more than enough. Taking a deep breath, he leans back again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bluntly, yeah, you did kill someone. A video game version of a robot, but still someone. That's fucked up. It's fucked up that you didn't tell anyone and it's fucked up that you made it so complicated. Nekomaru holds some blame in it, but maybe you guys were just too prideful." He sighs...this is so hard, "But you also did what you had to to survive. Fell into the psychological trap the program wanted you to fall into. It sucks, but it's natural. Whether we wanted to or not, all of us fucked up. But nothing at all is going to change it now, we just gotta...suck it up and try to be normal again." Kazuichi is full of that guilt and self loathing too. It was traumatic what had happened and the things he'd have nightmares about, but he couldn't surrender to the feeling eating away at him just yet. Every second of every day he feels like he wants to have a breakdown and tear out his own insides. He feels like he was just as bad as Despair made him out to be and hardly deserves the title of survivor. But what can he really do? If he lets himself fully process it, he'll feel worse and spiral into depression, so he acts like those memories aren't there. "Nothing you do will get rid of anything that happened or change who you are. But...if it helps you to tell yourself how much of a victim you really are, it's better to hold onto that and move forward." Then he pauses, groaning to himself, "God, I sound like Hajime…"
"Khh. Victim," Gundham doesn't like the word, but he isn't going to argue that it certainly sounds like that's what he's been unintentionally aiming for. He scrubs both hands through his hair, glad he hadn't had the chance to make it up yet this morning. The whole front goes grey, all of the white strands diffusing in tangles with the rest. When he's done it seems he's unaware that one of the hamsters has emerged from his sleeve and sat in the rat's nest atop his head because he looks down suddenly enough that it struggles to hold on and keep its balance, taking little handfuls of hair to steady itself.
His face in his hands, he just breathes for a moment.