[Automatic, a kneejerk reflex, but he hesitates a moment later. It was only a few weeks ago that they agreed to be honest with each other, on this very doorstep.
He doesn't want to, though. It seems shitty, to dump it on him. Qifrey's the one who died; his feelings hardly matter in that equation. After a moment, he shakes his head, taking back his words.]
It's not important, don't worry about it.
[Hastily, he starts rummaging in a pocket, before he digs out something that sparkles as it catches the sunlight.]
[The consideration leveled at him makes his stomach twist and churn. They promised to take care of each other, but isn't Shinjiro the first one who failed? Qifrey isn't the one who put him through something terrible. He's the one who fucked everything up, like he always does. If he weren't such a coward, he would've asked for his Persona back by now. Instead, he chose to be dead weight.
[When he'd arrived, Qifrey had been marching that creature to wherever it had stashed Vash. Shinjiro doesn't know what he was thinking sticking his own nose into it. It's the same mistake all over again; he never learns his damn lesson about getting involved, apparently.]
The issue's that it wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed out of it.
[He really thought he could defend himself without the need for his Persona, but of course, it'd be a catch 22. Either he's dead weight, or he's dangerous. Why would it ever be anything else? Arrogant and foolish of him, to think he could have it both ways -- to be useful without risk.]
[He sighs, looking off to the side. A hand comes up to rub at his neck.]
I know that I made things more difficult on you, if nothin' else. I've been here five months now. Least I could've done by now was wish for a weapon or something.
[Nothing had mattered much when he'd first arrived. By the time it did, the dangers that he expected weren't of the variety one could fight. He's gotten complacent, without the Dark Hour haunting his every night.]
[He really wishes people would stop asking him that. The only things he really wants, even now, are to either reach the ending that was taken from him, or get his wish granted in the form of that do over.
He's trying to function in the meantime, though, find something to do with himself throughout all this indefinite existing he's trapped in; there's little that rises to the level of wanting, these days. Mostly, he reaches for "less miserable than otherwise".]
I don't know. Fighting monsters is what I used to do, back home.
...So that's what it does, huh. That's the one they gave me, actually.
[He was always curious, but he didn't trust it. Didn't throw it away either, in case it was ever important. After a moment, he shakes his head.]
Doubt I'd be any good at it, anyway.
[He knows what form his soul takes, after all, and Castor is destructive. It harms even him just to make use of its most basic skills. All he's ever been good for is breaking things, not putting them back together.]
[Sometimes he wonders if that magic Qifrey talks about is how he cuts right through to the core of him so easily, when he's barely told him anything at all. Shinjiro looks for a moment as though he's had his heart ripped out of his chest and presented to him to identify as his own organ.
And then he can't hold Qifrey's gaze yet again, slate gray eyes finding his shoes instead.]
How come we're even talkin' about me, anyway? You just died. Now of all times you oughta be worryin' about yourself first.
[ smooth as always. qifrey isn't fussed because he knows his true death will be far worse than this. right now, he has to do what he can. and this is his calling. ]
This is what life is about. My calling, regardless of what state I'm in, is to teach and to aid. Whether I'm good at it or not doesn't matter as much as I try and continue to try. And every attempt brings me closer.
So. Regardless of what your life turned out, what is it you want to do with it? You have a chance to try and heal others.
[His calling ... he thinks of a promise made with Aki in the shadows of a burning building, a life claimed far too early. Become strong enough to do what's right. He's always ... wanted to do good. Back then, the scale had been so small -- he wanted to watch his best friend's back while they fought to keep people safe from the Shadows.
But after everything fell apart, he's never been able to grasp it again, that sense of doing what's right. He's tried, he tried so hard to make amends for his mistakes, but it only ever seemed to dig him deeper into the muck. Even his own death, the only "good" thing he feels he's ever accomplished, hadn't been without consequence. The past five months have given him far too much time to think about those last moments, the way Amada had screamed, the look on Aki's face as he held his bloody hand. To give his life for the kid's had felt like a better end than he deserved, and it still does, for the most part, but ...
It had hurt people he cared about and people he barely knew both. That's always how it seems to go, with him.
His hands threaten to shake. He shoves them in his pockets to stop them.]
...It's a nice idea, Qifrey. But some of us just ain't meant for shit like that. We just make things worse, whatever we try to do.
[The only thing calling him is being a failure, he's pretty sure. He's so ... tired.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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No, I--I didn't know you were back.
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But you must have known it wouldn't be long.
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[He rolls a shoulder -- not quite casual, like he intends, even though it's true. He continues avoiding eye contact.]
...Welcome back.
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[ qifrey eyes him. ]
Are you all right? You seem perturbed.
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[Automatic, a kneejerk reflex, but he hesitates a moment later. It was only a few weeks ago that they agreed to be honest with each other, on this very doorstep.
He doesn't want to, though. It seems shitty, to dump it on him. Qifrey's the one who died; his feelings hardly matter in that equation. After a moment, he shakes his head, taking back his words.]
It's not important, don't worry about it.
[Hastily, he starts rummaging in a pocket, before he digs out something that sparkles as it catches the sunlight.]
I uh, I hung onto your crystal. Here.
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My thanks.
[ a beat. kindly, in a softer tone. ]
It must have been hard. To witness that.
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He should've never gotten involved.]
Dyin' ain't exactly a walk in the park, either.
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[ qifrey keeps his eye on him, frowning. ]
But I think there's more to it than that.
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What more is there? You died saving my ass. The last person you oughta be worryin' about right now is me.
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We're both here now. We can discuss it.
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There's nothing to discuss. It was my fault. If I hadn't showed up, things would've turned out different. You don't need to baby me about it.
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I hardly think that's what happened . . .
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[When he'd arrived, Qifrey had been marching that creature to wherever it had stashed Vash. Shinjiro doesn't know what he was thinking sticking his own nose into it. It's the same mistake all over again; he never learns his damn lesson about getting involved, apparently.]
But then you had to protect me.
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[ qifrey takes a seat, his robes flowing. he straightens them with his palm and gives shinji a long look. ]
Is the issue that I chose to protect someone with my life or that I chose to protect you?
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[He really thought he could defend himself without the need for his Persona, but of course, it'd be a catch 22. Either he's dead weight, or he's dangerous. Why would it ever be anything else? Arrogant and foolish of him, to think he could have it both ways -- to be useful without risk.]
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Changelings are tricky. That one gave me a hard time!
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I know that I made things more difficult on you, if nothin' else. I've been here five months now. Least I could've done by now was wish for a weapon or something.
[Nothing had mattered much when he'd first arrived. By the time it did, the dangers that he expected weren't of the variety one could fight. He's gotten complacent, without the Dark Hour haunting his every night.]
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[ qifrey sighs. ]
Is having a weapon something you want?
cw: passive SI
He's trying to function in the meantime, though, find something to do with himself throughout all this indefinite existing he's trapped in; there's little that rises to the level of wanting, these days. Mostly, he reaches for "less miserable than otherwise".]
I don't know. Fighting monsters is what I used to do, back home.
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Or perhaps you may want to consider the blue potion. Gain a healing power.
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[He was always curious, but he didn't trust it. Didn't throw it away either, in case it was ever important. After a moment, he shakes his head.]
Doubt I'd be any good at it, anyway.
[He knows what form his soul takes, after all, and Castor is destructive. It harms even him just to make use of its most basic skills. All he's ever been good for is breaking things, not putting them back together.]
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You wish to cast away destruction and embrace a role where you can change things for the better.
Why choose something you despise just because you're good at it?
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[Sometimes he wonders if that magic Qifrey talks about is how he cuts right through to the core of him so easily, when he's barely told him anything at all. Shinjiro looks for a moment as though he's had his heart ripped out of his chest and presented to him to identify as his own organ.
And then he can't hold Qifrey's gaze yet again, slate gray eyes finding his shoes instead.]
How come we're even talkin' about me, anyway? You just died. Now of all times you oughta be worryin' about yourself first.
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[ smooth as always. qifrey isn't fussed because he knows his true death will be far worse than this. right now, he has to do what he can. and this is his calling. ]
This is what life is about. My calling, regardless of what state I'm in, is to teach and to aid. Whether I'm good at it or not doesn't matter as much as I try and continue to try. And every attempt brings me closer.
So. Regardless of what your life turned out, what is it you want to do with it? You have a chance to try and heal others.
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But after everything fell apart, he's never been able to grasp it again, that sense of doing what's right. He's tried, he tried so hard to make amends for his mistakes, but it only ever seemed to dig him deeper into the muck. Even his own death, the only "good" thing he feels he's ever accomplished, hadn't been without consequence. The past five months have given him far too much time to think about those last moments, the way Amada had screamed, the look on Aki's face as he held his bloody hand. To give his life for the kid's had felt like a better end than he deserved, and it still does, for the most part, but ...
It had hurt people he cared about and people he barely knew both. That's always how it seems to go, with him.
His hands threaten to shake. He shoves them in his pockets to stop them.]
...It's a nice idea, Qifrey. But some of us just ain't meant for shit like that. We just make things worse, whatever we try to do.
[The only thing calling him is being a failure, he's pretty sure. He's so ... tired.]
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