He’s been always carrying weight. whether it was the weight of his actions, or the weight of actions that were done by his own hand, or ones that were done in the hands of another. Emotional baggage was a defining trait he learned that he has to account for. He could try running away, but yet.. it would earn him nothing more than a few moments of panic.
If confrontation is what will salvage him from the horrors of his past, then he must steel himself to face what was coming. Trying to deny what happened will lead him nowhere but further down.
…And, after all, if he managed to get answers on everything, so does everyone else. This were the rules he set for himself, since not many people he knew got to remember their lives before the tragedy hit.
He felt someone approaching, and turned to greet them. He… didn’t really know who they were, but they seemed to have some business with him.
“…Not anymore. I guess you might have some questions, so you should go ahead. My name is Hajime Hinata.”
If only he, too, could shed responsibility of his own demons by disowning his name. If only he, too, could forsake the christening of his own title, a title and a name split equally among eight people, and the weight of his own greatest failure with it - just as Hajime Hinata forsook the christening of Izuru Kamukura.
If only. If only it were so easy.
The swell of nerves continued to grow, despite his efforts to subdue it with rage. Anger...anger was easy. Anger was processable. Anger was enough, usually, to snuff out and quell the brunt of grief, of guilt. But the invitation - the knowledge that he stood in the presence of the man who knew their last words...
...who knew whether or not they called for him - why aren’t you here, why aren’t you protecting us, why are you leaving us to die, Isshiki-san!!
- combined with the dawning realization that he, the unforgivably selfish man that he was - on some level didn’t want to know - it was too much. Too much to be muted by his wrath. Something this deep demanded to be felt in its full volume, its full capacity, and no amount of bloodlust could keep it at bay.
...It was then, when he tried to speak - when he tried to verbalize something - ( how dare you abandon responsibility, abandon the name that slaughtered the world, that slaughtered them, How dare you! How DARE you! ) that he realized he was already at his end.
He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say....anything...
All he could do was clench his fist so tightly that his knuckles felt like they could break.
All he could do was hope it wasn’t as obvious as he knew it was that he was almost breaking too.
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