[a non-answer is an answer in its own right, even if suguru would have liked—but did not necessarily expect—more. there are, after all, many reasons for withholding a name, ranging from the hope that suguru will seek it out on his own to the hope that suguru will not learn it for quite some time. suguru doubts that satoru's reasoning has much to do with the former; suguru is willing to bet that satoru's reasoning has everything to do with the latter, because it makes sense, given what they are. the remnants of a long-fractured trust can only be stretched so far.
but then it becomes a question of why satoru would mention this at all. to hint about an ally? to warn about a potential threat? which would be curious, given satoru's current state. anything that poses a risk to satoru should—would—be of interest to suguru, even if it poses a risk to himself, for they seem to have an abundance of time on this train; suguru should be able to work out some manner of approach.
...the true answer is somewhere. suguru is more than capable of finding it, if given enough time—but he is trapped here for the time being, waiting and watching for satoru's next move. if he won't offer a name, then what will he offer? an abrupt pivot, suguru expects. he always favored those.
and true to form, satoru does take the conversation in an entirely new direction—and an unexpected one, at that. one that suguru finds himself altogether unprepared for, though he knows, on some level, that he shouldn't be—because it makes sense, in some roundabout way. they worked well together, when they were younger; they are aware of, and can compensate for, one another's shortcomings; they are trapped on this train, and thus they presumably share the same goal: to escape it.
(not to mention the convenience that is removing an enemy from the playing field. working together, even in the barest sense, means playing nice—so long as certain rules are followed. suguru can guess as to which rules satoru would insist he follow.)
but the true significance of such an offer is not lost on suguru. he remembers that year in which the greatest duo simply because the greatest; he remembers listening to satoru explain his mastery of his techniques, realizing, for the first time, that satoru truly was the strongest. there was no longer a need for suguru to keep watch, to remain close—and now, suddenly, there is. satoru is no longer capable of shouldering everything alone.
suguru should be pleased.
he is, on some level. a weakened satoru—outside of this one car, no less—is something to celebrate; it gives suguru greater impetus to act alone, allowing the chips to fall where they may.
and yet.
satoru's fist strikes him slightly off-center, knuckles catching the very edge of his shoulder—and this is another thing that suguru is unprepared for? this reminder of how things used to be, when satoru wouldn't have needed to ask for suguru's help—because suguru would have known. suguru would have been by satoru's side before satoru could say so much as a single word.
...there is nothing to be done about the choices that were made; there is nothing to do about the muffled ting of the charm trapped within suguru's fingers, though he swiftly tightens his hold, hoping to prevent anything more from slipping through. what does he think? what does he think.
first: a breath, slow in and slow out, as he considers what this conversation alone is costing satoru? in various ways, and for various reasons. then, after determining that it is surely more than satoru is willing to admit:]
I think you're tired, [he says, matter-of-factly, as he lifts his hand from his knee, bringing it to the front of his robes. one barely audible chime was enough; it's time for this charm to go back where it belongs, albeit carefully.] I think you're worried. I think I'm not the only reason why.
[the train, the cars, the people within, the "friend" that satoru refuses to name—all things for satoru to stress about, and for suguru to take full advantage of, if needs must. but there is something for suguru to take advantage of here, as well, which is why, in a somewhat lighter tone (as though he is wholly unaffected):]
Don't you want to work with your friend?
[once again, suguru expects little in terms of an actual response—but he's making a point.]
no subject
but then it becomes a question of why satoru would mention this at all. to hint about an ally? to warn about a potential threat? which would be curious, given satoru's current state. anything that poses a risk to satoru should—would—be of interest to suguru, even if it poses a risk to himself, for they seem to have an abundance of time on this train; suguru should be able to work out some manner of approach.
...the true answer is somewhere. suguru is more than capable of finding it, if given enough time—but he is trapped here for the time being, waiting and watching for satoru's next move. if he won't offer a name, then what will he offer? an abrupt pivot, suguru expects. he always favored those.
and true to form, satoru does take the conversation in an entirely new direction—and an unexpected one, at that. one that suguru finds himself altogether unprepared for, though he knows, on some level, that he shouldn't be—because it makes sense, in some roundabout way. they worked well together, when they were younger; they are aware of, and can compensate for, one another's shortcomings; they are trapped on this train, and thus they presumably share the same goal: to escape it.
(not to mention the convenience that is removing an enemy from the playing field. working together, even in the barest sense, means playing nice—so long as certain rules are followed. suguru can guess as to which rules satoru would insist he follow.)
but the true significance of such an offer is not lost on suguru. he remembers that year in which the greatest duo simply because the greatest; he remembers listening to satoru explain his mastery of his techniques, realizing, for the first time, that satoru truly was the strongest. there was no longer a need for suguru to keep watch, to remain close—and now, suddenly, there is. satoru is no longer capable of shouldering everything alone.
suguru should be pleased.
he is, on some level. a weakened satoru—outside of this one car, no less—is something to celebrate; it gives suguru greater impetus to act alone, allowing the chips to fall where they may.
and yet.
satoru's fist strikes him slightly off-center, knuckles catching the very edge of his shoulder—and this is another thing that suguru is unprepared for? this reminder of how things used to be, when satoru wouldn't have needed to ask for suguru's help—because suguru would have known. suguru would have been by satoru's side before satoru could say so much as a single word.
...there is nothing to be done about the choices that were made; there is nothing to do about the muffled ting of the charm trapped within suguru's fingers, though he swiftly tightens his hold, hoping to prevent anything more from slipping through. what does he think? what does he think.
first: a breath, slow in and slow out, as he considers what this conversation alone is costing satoru? in various ways, and for various reasons. then, after determining that it is surely more than satoru is willing to admit:]
I think you're tired, [he says, matter-of-factly, as he lifts his hand from his knee, bringing it to the front of his robes. one barely audible chime was enough; it's time for this charm to go back where it belongs, albeit carefully.] I think you're worried. I think I'm not the only reason why.
[the train, the cars, the people within, the "friend" that satoru refuses to name—all things for satoru to stress about, and for suguru to take full advantage of, if needs must. but there is something for suguru to take advantage of here, as well, which is why, in a somewhat lighter tone (as though he is wholly unaffected):]
Don't you want to work with your friend?
[once again, suguru expects little in terms of an actual response—but he's making a point.]