It's not pity. [He grasps the front of Mutsu's clothes for a moment, not aggressively so, but as if what he's saying is so important to him that he feels like he needs a secure point between them, some way of putting the weight that his thin and raspy voice can't carry. His hand is thin, though, and powerless. It shakes with the effort of holding on. Nonetheless, he tries, gazing imploringly up at Mutsu's face.]

Please, I want you to know that. You both deserve better than that. No matter how he died, he lived a great man, and that is- that matters m- it has to count-

[Then the grip tightens and Souji's voice disappears, drowned in the foulness inside him as it once more rises up and tries to choke him, his thin body shaking as he doubles up in pain. It's as if there really is something alive inside him, and every time he allows himself to feel, every time he laughs or his chest tightens with love, with anguish, it wakes up and tries to fight him. Is that what it's trying to do? Maybe if he stops feeling anything at all, finally it will go away, and he can rest. If he just gives up-

Turning his head away he finally manages to choke up the burning liquid which threatens to drown him, drawing a sharp, labored breath, and then another, and another. He keeps his head lowered, his eyes cast down, as he forces blood-stained words across his lips.]

But you're right. I don't know, and I have no right to talk about things I'm ignorant of. Maybe I always will be, right? I won't live to the end of the year, so there's a lot of things I'll never know. [A bright smile, one that is painful beyond the purely physical.] I've always been like that, because knowing for sure is scary, so I don't look for truth. But sometimes, I guess ignorance can hurt people, and... I'm sorry.