[Matsui is always seeking absolution, notions of piety and reverence and wrath and salvation carved into the very core of his being through the blood he'd spilled. His eyes remain closed, and with D's hand resting on his head, it's very much, for a stutterframe second of a moment, like a snapshot of a heretic's baptism.
The understanding that D holds is not something he's grateful for, because it always harms him, knowing that others can empathize with this type of exquisite pain. Eventually, still speaking soft:]
...I don't understand why it must be this way.
[In his world. In D's world. Why are humans like this in every world, in every era? Everywhere they go, everything they do. He is not D, meant to remain separate, meant to carry the burden of hatred. He was crafted to protect, thrown into the horrors of conscious thought, and yet - despite the difference in their circumstances separating them by miles, it's this single point that they meet at.
Humans, and their endless, cyclical, Sisyphean existence.]
no subject
The understanding that D holds is not something he's grateful for, because it always harms him, knowing that others can empathize with this type of exquisite pain. Eventually, still speaking soft:]
...I don't understand why it must be this way.
[In his world. In D's world. Why are humans like this in every world, in every era? Everywhere they go, everything they do. He is not D, meant to remain separate, meant to carry the burden of hatred. He was crafted to protect, thrown into the horrors of conscious thought, and yet - despite the difference in their circumstances separating them by miles, it's this single point that they meet at.
Humans, and their endless, cyclical, Sisyphean existence.]