Her brother's eyes were on her, and yet he did not see her. He looked through her, as if she were an empty vase that should have something in it, something he believed needed to be in there, but never considered that she already was a beautifully adorned vase, flowered from the happy memories shared with their grandparents, and hardened with thorns from loss and her failures.
'So you're just-- giving up?'
Yuuka scoffed and looked away, disappointed, disgusted, and done with her brother. He never tried to understand her. No, he always chose not to understand. He rejected how the world functioned for something that made him feel better. She could not condemn him, she had done the same. For years, she rejected her brother because he did not defend her right to the ring. He wore it, and trained endlessly to prove he did not need it.
She sighed. Yes, they were small children to their mother. They were powerless and unimportant before her, before the Gojo Clan. They were the pieces of evidence to prove their clan lost their position, lost their strength, lost everything that made the clan immense.
He continued to talk, processing through his misplaced words. He attempted to appeal to her emotions. It didn't work. She preferred this conversation never happened in the first place. He already rejected her perspective. He wanted to take charge, have some power in her situation, believe that he could will, wish, guilt, plead, beg, the lump of cells shortening her continuous life. He had no control. She had no control. She didn't want control. Her life was finalized, and that is exactly how she wanted it to be.
"I suppose you finally got what you want then, Tsuguri," Yuuka finally spoke, not a hint of malice or spite, merely a matter-of-fact tone. Yuuka forced a sigh, relinquishing herself to the only truth that he spoke, the only truth that mattered. They were family, and she could not cut him out of her life. Yet, her frustration boiled because of him.
"If I do, I'll keep it safe, just as grandpa would have wanted." She pushed her hair out of her face, and she looked at him distantly. Her stomach churned just thinking about how her own family refused to understand her, and she pictured Cross's fierce anger. His indignation unchecked at her situation, at his situation, and his need to empathize with her in some way and shared in her pain. She inwardly smiled.
"You know, Tsurugi, it'll be all right," she finally decided to ignore her brother and speak her heart's desire. "You will be all right. So, don't try too hard."
