( he has that right, makoto supposes. those with the power to choose are given it.
makoto’s mental picture of the scenario which awaits kazuya in his own world is a sketchy one, but it had been tumultuous enough to involve angels and demons and the death of God, so one would assume that it would be a world that has undergone some potentially calamitous changes. kazuya doesn’t seem to be alone in leaving such precarious situations behind back home, or at least so makoto has gleaned from talking to others. it didn’t really apply to him. little happened in hell, and back home… well, he had left it in the same state it had always been in. he didn’t miss it. he didn’t want to go back. he wouldn’t say he wished ill upon it; it’s not like he yearned for some sort of vengeance against them. he just never wanted to see his family or any of those other people again.
but he knew that wasn’t the case for kazuya. he had people he cared about—both personally and in general. still, makoto wouldn’t need to be hazarded to understand his friend’s wariness at returning. it seems like he had lived a normal life, before; the kind of life makoto had always been on the outside looking in on, with all of his classmates. becoming a demon might very well other him just as makoto had been once. knowing how deeply it cut, the horrible and deep abyss of depression he had sunk into because of it… it causes his heart to ache in sympathy. he wouldn’t want his friend to ever have to face something like that.
for a moment, makoto sets his wrist down on the table, pausing in his meal. his sympathy is written plainly in his gaze and his knit brow. he pauses before replying. )
…I think they’d be crazy to not want you around. ( it’s a heartfelt thing to say, and therefore a vulnerable one. his gaze immediately flicks down because of it; he always feels self-conscious when speaking this way. he’s not accustomed to it. ) You’d do whatever you needed to to help them, so it would be stupid if people rejected that.
And if they do… ( his hand lifts to poke at his food, ) Well, good riddance. You’re king… maybe you could make something better out of Hell.
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makoto’s mental picture of the scenario which awaits kazuya in his own world is a sketchy one, but it had been tumultuous enough to involve angels and demons and the death of God, so one would assume that it would be a world that has undergone some potentially calamitous changes. kazuya doesn’t seem to be alone in leaving such precarious situations behind back home, or at least so makoto has gleaned from talking to others. it didn’t really apply to him. little happened in hell, and back home… well, he had left it in the same state it had always been in. he didn’t miss it. he didn’t want to go back. he wouldn’t say he wished ill upon it; it’s not like he yearned for some sort of vengeance against them. he just never wanted to see his family or any of those other people again.
but he knew that wasn’t the case for kazuya. he had people he cared about—both personally and in general. still, makoto wouldn’t need to be hazarded to understand his friend’s wariness at returning. it seems like he had lived a normal life, before; the kind of life makoto had always been on the outside looking in on, with all of his classmates. becoming a demon might very well other him just as makoto had been once. knowing how deeply it cut, the horrible and deep abyss of depression he had sunk into because of it… it causes his heart to ache in sympathy. he wouldn’t want his friend to ever have to face something like that.
for a moment, makoto sets his wrist down on the table, pausing in his meal. his sympathy is written plainly in his gaze and his knit brow. he pauses before replying. )
…I think they’d be crazy to not want you around. ( it’s a heartfelt thing to say, and therefore a vulnerable one. his gaze immediately flicks down because of it; he always feels self-conscious when speaking this way. he’s not accustomed to it. ) You’d do whatever you needed to to help them, so it would be stupid if people rejected that.
And if they do… ( his hand lifts to poke at his food, ) Well, good riddance. You’re king… maybe you could make something better out of Hell.