[It's true: Satoru's personality makes him a lacking candidate for friendship. He has coworkers, students, potential allies...but he doesn't really have friends. The people around him tolerate him, fear him, or treat him like something to be revered. Some of them occasionally indulge him, but Satoru tends to wear them down. It takes a rare person to not only befriend Satoru but also want to keep him around, because being friends with Satoru means poking and prodding, antics that would exhaust any reasonable person, and obnoxious behaviors that can only be stomached for so long.
There has only ever been one person who truly chose to subject himself to everything that Satoru is — who looked beyond his strength and annoying ways, and who could understand Satoru when he forwent words for attention-seeking behavior. The same person who, for that very reason, Satoru would still call his best friend, despite everything that transpired between them.
That person sits beside him now, proving his acceptance of everything that Satoru is by talking, listening, and understanding what Satoru is communicating without outright saying it — accepting this temporarily truce though he has little motivation to do so.
And so Satoru tests the patience that Suguru has always afforded him by withholding that piece of information and saying simply:]
Yeah.
[Suguru will find out the name, whether Satoru tells him or he seeks out the source of the cursed energy himself. But the story of said friend goes beyond this train, and Satoru has to be careful about how much he reveals. He doesn't know how what will happen after they escape this train, and while Satoru does not want to believe that Suguru would do anything other than swallow the King of Curses if given the chance — he remembers Suguru targeting the school. He remembers the sacrifices that Suguru made to seek his goals.
Satoru's trust exists, but it is conditional, and he draws the line at potentially endangering his students.
He draws the line at endangering the people on this train.
So having established that there is an additional problem, Satoru moves on to his real request, far larger than the simple desire to have a talk.
He says:]
I've been thinking it's about time we work together again.
[This in and of itself is not a remark about the strength of the enemy who lurks in this car trains, but an admission of a further problem — of something that may render Satoru unable to take care of the problems from his world on his own. He is admitting that for the first time since their teenage years, Satoru — the sorcerer who thrives when he has no one to hold him back — needs a partner.
He cannot work alone.
So in suggesting this — in presenting this offhanded comment as though he's feeling nostalgic — Satoru is taking another risk.
If he could, he'd rely on the allies he's slowly trying to collect, and teach them like he does his students. But without his self-reverse technique, he only has so much time before he'll need to drop his Infinity and recharge. And if something goes awry, and Satoru's out of energy, he won't be able to protect anyone.
Attempting to team up with Suguru would require deep and unbreakable assurances, but it would mean that Suguru would no longer be a concern. Instead of Satoru having to keep close tabs on two enemies, there would only be one. And that's one they could face together if need be.
His face, as usual, doesn't give much away at all. It's as cheerful and conversational as it always is, and pretends to watch Suguru as if he'll be able to see his reaction. He imagines Suguru's expression as it was when they were teens, a brief show of concern — Suguru asking if he needs to sleep, if he's okay, and Satoru punching his shoulder in response to say, I'm good man.
He knows that's not how Suguru would openly look at him now. There's too much for him to consider from this singular statement: the potential that is a somehow vulnerable Satoru, the risk and opportunity provided by the existence of another threat, and what, exactly, Satoru will request from him as proof of his willingness to play nice with the non-sorcerers on the train.
But still he asks:]
Whaddya think?
[Lazily, his words stringing together, as he reaches across his body to punch Suguru's shoulder, despite the fact that he can't see exactly where his fist will land, despite the barrier that prevents true contact — reminding him that they've done this before. They can do it again.
no subject
There has only ever been one person who truly chose to subject himself to everything that Satoru is — who looked beyond his strength and annoying ways, and who could understand Satoru when he forwent words for attention-seeking behavior. The same person who, for that very reason, Satoru would still call his best friend, despite everything that transpired between them.
That person sits beside him now, proving his acceptance of everything that Satoru is by talking, listening, and understanding what Satoru is communicating without outright saying it — accepting this temporarily truce though he has little motivation to do so.
And so Satoru tests the patience that Suguru has always afforded him by withholding that piece of information and saying simply:]
Yeah.
[Suguru will find out the name, whether Satoru tells him or he seeks out the source of the cursed energy himself. But the story of said friend goes beyond this train, and Satoru has to be careful about how much he reveals. He doesn't know how what will happen after they escape this train, and while Satoru does not want to believe that Suguru would do anything other than swallow the King of Curses if given the chance — he remembers Suguru targeting the school. He remembers the sacrifices that Suguru made to seek his goals.
Satoru's trust exists, but it is conditional, and he draws the line at potentially endangering his students.
He draws the line at endangering the people on this train.
So having established that there is an additional problem, Satoru moves on to his real request, far larger than the simple desire to have a talk.
He says:]
I've been thinking it's about time we work together again.
[This in and of itself is not a remark about the strength of the enemy who lurks in this car trains, but an admission of a further problem — of something that may render Satoru unable to take care of the problems from his world on his own. He is admitting that for the first time since their teenage years, Satoru — the sorcerer who thrives when he has no one to hold him back — needs a partner.
He cannot work alone.
So in suggesting this — in presenting this offhanded comment as though he's feeling nostalgic — Satoru is taking another risk.
If he could, he'd rely on the allies he's slowly trying to collect, and teach them like he does his students. But without his self-reverse technique, he only has so much time before he'll need to drop his Infinity and recharge. And if something goes awry, and Satoru's out of energy, he won't be able to protect anyone.
Attempting to team up with Suguru would require deep and unbreakable assurances, but it would mean that Suguru would no longer be a concern. Instead of Satoru having to keep close tabs on two enemies, there would only be one. And that's one they could face together if need be.
His face, as usual, doesn't give much away at all. It's as cheerful and conversational as it always is, and pretends to watch Suguru as if he'll be able to see his reaction. He imagines Suguru's expression as it was when they were teens, a brief show of concern — Suguru asking if he needs to sleep, if he's okay, and Satoru punching his shoulder in response to say, I'm good man.
He knows that's not how Suguru would openly look at him now. There's too much for him to consider from this singular statement: the potential that is a somehow vulnerable Satoru, the risk and opportunity provided by the existence of another threat, and what, exactly, Satoru will request from him as proof of his willingness to play nice with the non-sorcerers on the train.
But still he asks:]
Whaddya think?
[Lazily, his words stringing together, as he reaches across his body to punch Suguru's shoulder, despite the fact that he can't see exactly where his fist will land, despite the barrier that prevents true contact — reminding him that they've done this before. They can do it again.
Suguru can do it again.]