[The instant he hears that voice (that voice he'd recognize after even a thousand lifetimes), Yoshitsugu feels something within himself melt away. A calm he cannot explain falls upon him. Maybe even something akin to hope. But then Mitsunari continues, and for a moment, he can't breathe.
Every word that has ever left this man's mouth has been genuine, and up to this point, his trust in Yoshitsugu has been unfailing, absolute. What could have possibly happened to bring this about, he cannot imagine. He's been so careful; Mitsunari has never seen that side of him.
Yoshitsugu has never had this sort of reaction to a handful words before. He nearly feels ill.
It takes entirely too long for him to come back to himself, and when he does, his chest is still so tight. His voice, usually so even, is unsteady--nearly trembling. Even at his most oblivious, there's no way Mitsunari would be able to miss it.]
Mitsunari...?
[His breath catches again, and he falls silent for a second or two. When he continues, he's regained the slightest bit of control over his voice, but it's not nearly enough. Composure could not be further from his grasp.]
[voice] never be sorry
Every word that has ever left this man's mouth has been genuine, and up to this point, his trust in Yoshitsugu has been unfailing, absolute. What could have possibly happened to bring this about, he cannot imagine. He's been so careful; Mitsunari has never seen that side of him.
Yoshitsugu has never had this sort of reaction to a handful words before. He nearly feels ill.
It takes entirely too long for him to come back to himself, and when he does, his chest is still so tight. His voice, usually so even, is unsteady--nearly trembling. Even at his most oblivious, there's no way Mitsunari would be able to miss it.]
Mitsunari...?
[His breath catches again, and he falls silent for a second or two. When he continues, he's regained the slightest bit of control over his voice, but it's not nearly enough. Composure could not be further from his grasp.]
I don't understand.