( makoto isn’t sure he would understand—when it comes to topics like this, he rarely does, his own beliefs and experiences at extreme odds with the vast majority of people he speaks to. but as kazuya talks about the bond he has with his friends, one that creates an anchor for him to a humanity that he otherwise doesn’t feel too much inherent attachment or affinity for… he feels like he can maybe understand. and it makes him wonder. makoto had never been given the chance for something like that; there had likely been times he had tried to make friends, or when others had tried to make friends with him, and it had never worked out. he had just been too strange, and that pervasive strangeness had driven them away from him. he had learned to stop trying, keeping what felt like a “safe” distance between himself and others. what if he had managed to make some friends, though? some that would have tried to stand by him, even when they didn’t understand? would something like that have even been possible, knowing what kind of person he was—and still is?
he doesn’t know. he doesn’t think it would have changed much, ultimately. he might have just ended up too worried he might end up hurting them instead. that, and it would have made it even harder for him to leave earth behind if he actually cared about anyone there. it had been all too easy for makoto to agree to go to hell with J, believing full well in his heart that he didn’t care if he ever saw any of its people ever again.
he isn’t the right person to advocate for humanity—it feels uncomfortable, especially considering they had never even once advocated for him.
and yet… )
When people are afraid and desperate, they’ll make choices they wouldn’t have otherwise. Ones they might regret, later.
( he frowns, grappling with words for a moment before continuing: ) I don’t think you’re wrong. But maybe if you just give them time, they’ll calm down and be more open-minded.
( he says it more for kazuya’s sake than anything else. regardless of what he might say, he does get the sense that being rejected by humanity like that would hurt his friend. he doesn’t want something like that to happen.
his expression further folds with concern. ) I—I know it doesn’t work the same way for us, but… I was actually surprised, how much myself I still felt, after. ( he rests his arms on the table, leaning forward; his food is forgotten, though he’ll probably remember it at some point (probably?). ) You could fight it. You already beat them once, so why couldn’t you beat them again? And, even if you do change, I still think you’d be you at your core. Even with how you’ve already changed, I think I see that… I think your friends would, too.
( and then everyone else would follow?
a wave of timidity washes over him; he slouches a little in his chair, gaze down. ) I… don’t think I’m very good at being encouraging, but… I bet you’d be able to deal with something like that way better than me, or anyone else I know.
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he doesn’t know. he doesn’t think it would have changed much, ultimately. he might have just ended up too worried he might end up hurting them instead. that, and it would have made it even harder for him to leave earth behind if he actually cared about anyone there. it had been all too easy for makoto to agree to go to hell with J, believing full well in his heart that he didn’t care if he ever saw any of its people ever again.
he isn’t the right person to advocate for humanity—it feels uncomfortable, especially considering they had never even once advocated for him.
and yet… )
When people are afraid and desperate, they’ll make choices they wouldn’t have otherwise. Ones they might regret, later.
( he frowns, grappling with words for a moment before continuing: ) I don’t think you’re wrong. But maybe if you just give them time, they’ll calm down and be more open-minded.
( he says it more for kazuya’s sake than anything else. regardless of what he might say, he does get the sense that being rejected by humanity like that would hurt his friend. he doesn’t want something like that to happen.
his expression further folds with concern. ) I—I know it doesn’t work the same way for us, but… I was actually surprised, how much myself I still felt, after. ( he rests his arms on the table, leaning forward; his food is forgotten, though he’ll probably remember it at some point (probably?). ) You could fight it. You already beat them once, so why couldn’t you beat them again? And, even if you do change, I still think you’d be you at your core. Even with how you’ve already changed, I think I see that… I think your friends would, too.
( and then everyone else would follow?
a wave of timidity washes over him; he slouches a little in his chair, gaze down. ) I… don’t think I’m very good at being encouraging, but… I bet you’d be able to deal with something like that way better than me, or anyone else I know.