[ Yato knows instinctively what Yamato means by that god, and he doesn't know if he wants to protest that he isn't that god, that he doesn't want to be that god, or that he might be that god already whether he likes it or not. They're important distinctions, and yet hopelessly futile.
But Yamato is right. Yato won't ever own Aki, no matter how much he does for her. It's common sense. His friends aren't possessions; he doesn't do things for them to put them in his debt. As a human, he always valued agency and individuality in other people. He would never have claimed ownership over another.
As a god, other people are beginning to run together. He can only be so invested in a populace that treats him like air. An old part of him remembers what it was like to burst into someone else's life and tangle himself up in it in an instant; even if he wasn't always wanted, he was at least there to make a mark and carve a space out for himself. Now, the lives of normal people are intangible, cordoned away from him to see and not touch. Just blips on a radar. So foreign, so ill-defined. Is it a wonder that some strangers have little value to him? Is putting down a rotten human really much worse than putting down a rabid dog?
Yato looks at Yamato sitting across from him and sees his turmoil. Even if Yamato's argument is confused and grasping, he wants Yato to be happy with his decisions -- that much is clear. But had Yato not committed this crime, and had that man gone off and done more awful things because of it, Yato would be even unhappier than he is now. This is, he thinks, the happiest he could be with the options given, even if he isn't happy with how Yamato has been affected.
No matter how many moral questions get thrown at him, Yato doesn't feel regret over his actions. It's a fact of the heart. Even if it makes Yamato sad, Yato can't change how he feels. Maybe there's nothing to discuss beyond that. So in answer to all of Yamato's questions and concerns, Yato only says gently: ]
I'll never regret acting in a friend's interest. What's done is done.
[Maybe someday, someday soon, Yamato will understand all of that. In just a few short weeks, the revelation that he, too, was once something other than human is going to hit him. Maybe then, he'll be able to look at this from Yato's point of view, to more readily accept a lack of appreciation for human life.
But right now, he can't. He can't, and hates that, and he hates himself even more for feeling that way. Even Yamato gets how fucked up it is, to be willing to discuss this so rationally at all. A normal person would reject Yato, or refuse to believe he'd be capable of such a thing. But Yamato's the last person to chide someone for solving their problems through (personally justifiable) violence. As far as "normal" goes, well... he's never been one for that particular label anyway.
Yato's words are a non-answer, and they both know it. Yamato's never learned the art of elusive speech, but he's spent too long around people who have, and he recognizes the dismissal for what it is. But his own feelings are too unstable for him to push any further. He wants to, that much is obvious on face, in the way he stays sitting even as Yato stands. For a good few seconds, it seems like he really is going to keep arguing.
But then all the energy seems to drain from him at once, and he slumps a little, dejected. There's no sense in arguing, he figures, when he doesn't even know what point he's trying to make. He nods slowly, twisting his fingers and while they might be the same age, right now, he looks impossibly young.]
I'll see you soon. [Whatever happens in the future, Yato is still a good friend. And after being forgotten for so long, however unintended, it's the least he can do to make up for lost time as much as possible.
As he finally stands, he looks at Yato one more time, and he doesn't bother trying to disguise the plea that bleeds through his voice.]
[ Yato smiles for him, just a little. Even if they can't share the same understanding in this moment, he's still Yamato's friend. And even if Yamato looks heartbreakingly sad, there's nothing Yato can do but avoid giving Yamato more reason to worry. ]
I will. [ And he means it. A bit of alone time might help him clear his head. ] ] Don't forget to use up all the food I have in the fridge. When I get back, I'll fix us up a feast.
[ He nods, and then off he goes... after he pointedly gets the security officer's attention so that he can be cuffed again and led away. Yato basically polices himself around here... ]
no subject
But Yamato is right. Yato won't ever own Aki, no matter how much he does for her. It's common sense. His friends aren't possessions; he doesn't do things for them to put them in his debt. As a human, he always valued agency and individuality in other people. He would never have claimed ownership over another.
As a god, other people are beginning to run together. He can only be so invested in a populace that treats him like air. An old part of him remembers what it was like to burst into someone else's life and tangle himself up in it in an instant; even if he wasn't always wanted, he was at least there to make a mark and carve a space out for himself. Now, the lives of normal people are intangible, cordoned away from him to see and not touch. Just blips on a radar. So foreign, so ill-defined. Is it a wonder that some strangers have little value to him? Is putting down a rotten human really much worse than putting down a rabid dog?
Yato looks at Yamato sitting across from him and sees his turmoil. Even if Yamato's argument is confused and grasping, he wants Yato to be happy with his decisions -- that much is clear. But had Yato not committed this crime, and had that man gone off and done more awful things because of it, Yato would be even unhappier than he is now. This is, he thinks, the happiest he could be with the options given, even if he isn't happy with how Yamato has been affected.
No matter how many moral questions get thrown at him, Yato doesn't feel regret over his actions. It's a fact of the heart. Even if it makes Yamato sad, Yato can't change how he feels. Maybe there's nothing to discuss beyond that. So in answer to all of Yamato's questions and concerns, Yato only says gently: ]
I'll never regret acting in a friend's interest. What's done is done.
[ He stands slowly. ]
Thanks for dropping by, Yasu. I appreciate it.
no subject
But right now, he can't. He can't, and hates that, and he hates himself even more for feeling that way. Even Yamato gets how fucked up it is, to be willing to discuss this so rationally at all. A normal person would reject Yato, or refuse to believe he'd be capable of such a thing. But Yamato's the last person to chide someone for solving their problems through (personally justifiable) violence. As far as "normal" goes, well... he's never been one for that particular label anyway.
Yato's words are a non-answer, and they both know it. Yamato's never learned the art of elusive speech, but he's spent too long around people who have, and he recognizes the dismissal for what it is. But his own feelings are too unstable for him to push any further. He wants to, that much is obvious on face, in the way he stays sitting even as Yato stands. For a good few seconds, it seems like he really is going to keep arguing.
But then all the energy seems to drain from him at once, and he slumps a little, dejected. There's no sense in arguing, he figures, when he doesn't even know what point he's trying to make. He nods slowly, twisting his fingers and while they might be the same age, right now, he looks impossibly young.]
I'll see you soon. [Whatever happens in the future, Yato is still a good friend. And after being forgotten for so long, however unintended, it's the least he can do to make up for lost time as much as possible.
As he finally stands, he looks at Yato one more time, and he doesn't bother trying to disguise the plea that bleeds through his voice.]
Take care of yourself, okay?
no subject
I will. [ And he means it. A bit of alone time might help him clear his head. ] ] Don't forget to use up all the food I have in the fridge. When I get back, I'll fix us up a feast.
[ He nods, and then off he goes... after he pointedly gets the security officer's attention so that he can be cuffed again and led away. Yato basically polices himself around here... ]