reread after god and reached that chapter where tokinaga and orokapi fought again. something something how orokapi is neither human or inhuman, something far beyond, something too complicated to only be called in one word. something that is only comparable to a god: confusing and tangled and different. something that is unexpected and free and unable to experience human emotions nor understand them, as well as not being able to perceive and feel and be human. how orokapi parallels tokinaga, who is too painfully human. who despite his cold exterior and his feeble attempts at masking his emotions is still so human, even if he tries not to be. how tokinaga cracks and cries and screams and sobs and feels angry and happy and everything that isn’t possible for orokapi. orokapi does not understand tokinaga, nor does tokinaga understand orokapi. orokapi is anything but human, he is cruel and shows no mercy and devoid of empathy and emotion. he runs away from his problems and does what he likes without a sense of responsibility. in a way, orokapi is almost a child. so naive in his beliefs yet so dangerous at the same time. and tokinaga is anything but a god. he is emotional and angry and violent and gentle. he grieves and mourns for people’s deaths: he understands the consequences of his actions. he is lacking of the freedom to just go and do what he wants, chained down by responsibility and guilt. orokapi is everything that tokinaga isn’t. tokinaga, everything that orokapi cannot be. perhaps it was why they were drawn to one another, something resembling affecting borne out of lingering hatred and jealousy. tokinaga is jealous, jealous of orokapi and his apathy, jealous of orokapi and his freedom, jealous of orokapi and his power and carelessness and his childlike tendencies. tokinaga is jealous, that orokapi can be unfeeling. that orokapi is inhuman. because maybe if tokinaga was inhuman, if tokinaga could not feel, he could’ve done anything. he wouldn’t have been stuck grieving and feeling guilty over deaths, wouldn’t have been left feeling obligated to missions and responsibilities. tokinaga hates orokapi for that. because he is everythjng tokinaga wants—needs to be. and orokapi may not see it, but he is jealous of tokinaga as well. jealous of how human he is, how he has the capability of feeling so deeply inside his heart, how despite the gods’ intelligence they cannot grasp the essence of a human’s soul. orokapi is jealous of him for that, and adores him as well. but when tokinaga breaks, and tokinaga crumbles down to the floor in a mess, orokapi is painfully human. he gentle drapes the thick blanket over tokinaga, a late apology for what just happened. the gods aren’t human, they never will be and they will never understand. the institute tells tokinaga all about that. gods are not to be trusted, they view humans as lesser beings and they are cruel and unforgiving. but what can tokinaga tell them? when a god had so gently put down and tucked him into a blanket, disregarding their own needs? a selfish being, a god, taking away his own for tokinaga? how does tokinaga tell them the way orokapi smiled, he peered down at the sight of a sleeping tokinaga warmly enveloped in the woolen fabric? what evidence is there that the gods are not human? for if orokapi had been so gentle, is it not because he was human? is it not because tokinaga had made him human? something something









