[Every step toward that spot beside him is progress; every step forward invites more risk. Because the sound of Suguru's footfalls, the familiarity of his nearing presence, begin to feel something like promise, and nearly make Satoru feel like he can take for granted Suguru's cooperation in what Satoru intends on presenting to him. But Satoru learned long ago that for all he is The Strongest, able to expect success in battle after battle, there are some things even he can lose.
There is no room for hope between them; there is only Satoru's purpose in requesting this talk, and the resultant response.
Suguru's comment is therefore well-timed, because that see stands out as starkly as Suguru knows it will; it serves as a reminder that there are limitations to what Satoru can leverage in this situation. Suguru is still his enemy, and Satoru is still the one who killed him. Though Suguru is the one at a disadvantage in terms of strength and ability, holding Satoru's eyes hostage would give him an edge. A bargaining chip. A means to an end.
An expert at being calm no matter the circumstances, Satoru does not react at all, though he internally sharpens his attention; he does not know if Suguru is truly aware that he is missing his eyes, or if he has read it from the tells that would be apparent to no one else. He simply maintains his fluidity in his feigned observance of Suguru's approach.
Suguru ultimately chooses to sit, and while this is exactly what Satoru requested — hassled — him to do, it does not feel like a triumph. He does not feel as though he has obtained a success; this does not feel like a win worth celebrating.
Because by taking that seat — by subjecting himself to whatever Satoru may choose to throw at him in the next few moments, both in words and actions — Suguru has validated that small but still-present spark of trust that Satoru still holds for him. He has proven, yet again, that he's still Suguru deep down inside, and that he still retains enough trust of his own to risk Satoru's presence.
It is not a win because that heavy feeling that settled within Suguru's chest grows heavier; this gesture is what Satoru will remember, if he must put an end to Suguru in the future — again.
Hence his answer:]
Nah.
[Because he gets the double meaning in his words — the game to which Suguru is referring, which wasn't a game at all, and the result of which cost Satoru more than he would admit to anyone. And because it's not really over anymore, is it? Not with Suguru sitting beside him now, an imitation of the ways things once were. It doesn't feel like victory, and Satoru doesn't want to be congratulated for it.
But what he will accept, as he turns his head to pretend that he is looking at Suguru out of the corner of the eye he does not currently possess, a smiling playing upon his lips, is an old acknowledgement — something he hasn't heard in quite a while, as work for Satoru is rarely seen as hard and certainly not something most think to acknowledge.]
You could thank me for my hard work, though.
[It hadn't escaped his notice — the way it sounded when Suguru took his seat, and the way his cursed energy seems severed, somehow, not quite as full as it should be. Suguru is missing a piece of himself, too. Without his eyes, which remain outside of Satoru's currently dampened senses, he can't see what it is, but an image enters his mind — a memory. And though Satoru wouldn't go so far as to say his eyes are better off in a display case somewhere, it isn't so bad to be in a position where he can't confirm what he expects to see.
He easily breaks the moment, without leaving much space for Suguru to respond to his suggestion, sitting up straight and clapping his hands together once.]
First things first. What was my prize going to be?
[Obviously, he's disqualified from taking whatever it is, considering Suguru did take a seat. And even more obviously, he should have just let the topic of his would-be prize go, considering that Suguru dropped the word see on him a mere moment ago. But Satoru is still unapologetically himself — he still taunts danger to its face and believes in his ability to always maintain the upper hand, regardless of whatever he may lack.
And he still has only one very specific weakness.]
no subject
There is no room for hope between them; there is only Satoru's purpose in requesting this talk, and the resultant response.
Suguru's comment is therefore well-timed, because that see stands out as starkly as Suguru knows it will; it serves as a reminder that there are limitations to what Satoru can leverage in this situation. Suguru is still his enemy, and Satoru is still the one who killed him. Though Suguru is the one at a disadvantage in terms of strength and ability, holding Satoru's eyes hostage would give him an edge. A bargaining chip. A means to an end.
An expert at being calm no matter the circumstances, Satoru does not react at all, though he internally sharpens his attention; he does not know if Suguru is truly aware that he is missing his eyes, or if he has read it from the tells that would be apparent to no one else. He simply maintains his fluidity in his feigned observance of Suguru's approach.
Suguru ultimately chooses to sit, and while this is exactly what Satoru requested — hassled — him to do, it does not feel like a triumph. He does not feel as though he has obtained a success; this does not feel like a win worth celebrating.
Because by taking that seat — by subjecting himself to whatever Satoru may choose to throw at him in the next few moments, both in words and actions — Suguru has validated that small but still-present spark of trust that Satoru still holds for him. He has proven, yet again, that he's still Suguru deep down inside, and that he still retains enough trust of his own to risk Satoru's presence.
It is not a win because that heavy feeling that settled within Suguru's chest grows heavier; this gesture is what Satoru will remember, if he must put an end to Suguru in the future — again.
Hence his answer:]
Nah.
[Because he gets the double meaning in his words — the game to which Suguru is referring, which wasn't a game at all, and the result of which cost Satoru more than he would admit to anyone. And because it's not really over anymore, is it? Not with Suguru sitting beside him now, an imitation of the ways things once were. It doesn't feel like victory, and Satoru doesn't want to be congratulated for it.
But what he will accept, as he turns his head to pretend that he is looking at Suguru out of the corner of the eye he does not currently possess, a smiling playing upon his lips, is an old acknowledgement — something he hasn't heard in quite a while, as work for Satoru is rarely seen as hard and certainly not something most think to acknowledge.]
You could thank me for my hard work, though.
[It hadn't escaped his notice — the way it sounded when Suguru took his seat, and the way his cursed energy seems severed, somehow, not quite as full as it should be. Suguru is missing a piece of himself, too. Without his eyes, which remain outside of Satoru's currently dampened senses, he can't see what it is, but an image enters his mind — a memory. And though Satoru wouldn't go so far as to say his eyes are better off in a display case somewhere, it isn't so bad to be in a position where he can't confirm what he expects to see.
He easily breaks the moment, without leaving much space for Suguru to respond to his suggestion, sitting up straight and clapping his hands together once.]
First things first. What was my prize going to be?
[Obviously, he's disqualified from taking whatever it is, considering Suguru did take a seat. And even more obviously, he should have just let the topic of his would-be prize go, considering that Suguru dropped the word see on him a mere moment ago. But Satoru is still unapologetically himself — he still taunts danger to its face and believes in his ability to always maintain the upper hand, regardless of whatever he may lack.
And he still has only one very specific weakness.]