It wasn't as if he hadn't wanted to join his little family here, he had but his mind had been on Satoru and he wasn't sure the man would have felt comfortable in an Armada aligned pack, but Asla had finally given him the push he needed, what he needed right now was a place he could feel secure, he'd figure out what place would be best for Satoru when he came to that bridge. If he came to it. Still that didn't quell the nerves bubbling in his stomach. He hadn't exactly had the best track record with Siruis' children as of late and he wasn't sure exactly how his daughter might react to... Well, everything, still the idea that maybe he'd finally get over all his hangups and get to be part of her life? Well that was exciting in it's own way. So he stood at the border, and swallowing the lump forming in his throat, tipped his head back to call for Kotori, the meaning in his voice clear, and the hope his daughter might arrive slipping into his song. ”Speech”  ’Thought’

Kotori had seen Mojito when he’d been in the Armada but he’d never spent time around the wolf-hybrid.  Quite frankly Kotori had always been arrogant and interested primarily in the affairs of the other Fatalis and of course Ikigai.  Surely, the child had thought, a canine that was only half-wolf was of lesser status, too low for a prince.  If not for Satira he might still think that way but Satira was an excellent wolf, worthy of her Fatalis blood.

The voice didn’t ring a bell to Kotori and with curiosity, he left a conversation with Fang on snake control and made his way to the pack's borderland.  Even if he had forgotten the man’s voice there was no forgetting Mojito’s sight.   Kotori hopped over a short pool, jogged around a wider one, and stopped near Mojito. “Well,” the large wolf looked down on the smaller, “Mojito?  It’s been a while.”  There was no scent of any other wolf pack on Satira’s father.  What had he been up to?  What had Asla seen in him that made him worthy of her?  Satira turned out well so there had to be something?  That or Satira just took after her mom aside from certain appearance details.

“Is this a social call or is there another matter you wish to speak of with me?” Was he here as a father, hopeful returning lover, or another matter?  Did he want to live with his family again?  Kotori really didn’t know much about the guy.


"Kotori Fatalis"

He would not be left to wait for too long, he'd known that Kotori was the one leading Valta but there was still something about seeing the younger man approaching him with all the pomp of a leader. Was this really the boy who'd so curiously asked him about his ears all those years ago? That was the last time Mojito had really spoken to the boy he had been charged with training... Barely older than a child himself at the time. He could feel it, in the way that Kotori looked at him, the curious boy was gone and despite himself Mojito bristled some, there was something in Kotori that reminded him too much of the way Azure had looked at him... Was he about to once more walk willingly into some place that would never truly value him? But he bit down on his desire to turn tail right then and there, at least for now he needed some place where if Azure or, gods forbid, Sirius wished to pursue him further it'd be a lot less neat for them. So he met the younger Fatalis' gaze with his own, ablaze with a defiant fire. ”It has.” He said plainly. He let the man speak, ask his question and then it was his turn. ”I'm not sure I ever properly introduced myself. Mojito Klein.” He gave the most pointed dip of his head he could. In truth Mojito felt less Klein than he was, he held no real fondness for his greater family but he also knew the weight that name carried in the empire and right now he needed ever inch of leverage he could get. ”I am here to see if I might count myself amongst your ranks for a time, Asla suggested I do so.” And had told him to say as much, he was not sure what she meant for him long term, if she'd simply meant for him to seek shelter temporarily or not, so he chose his words carefully, not wishing to commit to anything he could not back out of. Still he was no freeloader and any time Kotori would see fit to let him stay would be spent at least earning his keep. ”I'm a decent fighter but a damn good healer.” And any pack would be lucky to have him, he concluded in his head but better not to push his luck too much. ”I would also wish to be near my daughter at least, my involvement in her life is ultimately her decision.” She was after all an adult but there was an edge of longing there. Of regret for the life he'd missed out on with her. ”Speech”  ’Thought’

Satira had built a pleasant rhythm to her daily life with Cináed, and within Valta. The structure of the pack gave her the stability she needed to thrive and goals to aspire to. Living off the land in the wilds with her mother and brother for some time had done wonders for her own confidence, resourcefulness, and self-esteem, but there was something to be said about having that foundation she’d lost when they’d left the Armada. She barely even remembered that life now, and her sights were set solely on the future without looking back at the past. Which is why when the call from a ghost from her past came out of the blue one day, Tira all but froze up on the spot. She had been gathering herbs with Ciná from the nearby rapids when she heard his voice, flopped over ears lifting and her heart stopping in her chest. For a while she simply stood there, staring off in the distance where his call had come from. It couldn’t possibly be… could it?

After reassuring Ciná that everything was fine and handing him her satchel of herbs to take back to their den, Satira separated herself to go see the specter for herself. Dainty paws carried her swiftly across the grasslands until she arrived at the falls. Her pale blue eyes fell upon the familiar form of her sire, already engaged in conversation with her uncle Ko. Tira’s heart sank again, a mixture of emotions impossible to discern churning in her chest while she looked at Mojito with carefully guarded expression. Should she be happy to see her father after all this time apart? Furious at him for disappearing on her so frequently? Indifferent to his return, knowing he would inevitably vanish to his own devices again? She stood back for a spell, just observing the scene and listening, feeling like an outsider to the conversation taking place, hovering nearby but not approaching yet to give Kotori his space as alpha to handle his business while she tried to sort out these messy feelings. She could talk to her father once they were done.

"Satira"

Kotori had no idea what sort of relationship Satira had with her father.  Good or bad terms?  Regardless, there was a wolf, well, part wolf at his doorstep and asking to join the pack.  If Asla truly had suggested he join then Kotori saw no reason to decline it.  He’d ask her later but doubted the wolfdog would lie about such a thing.

There were steps farther back that never fully finished approaching.  Kotori’s head turned to spot where Satira was watching.  She didn’t want to join in on the conversation yet, eh?  Turning his attention back to Mo he could only guess at the emotions both were having.  “You can join Valta.  I respect Asla so if she feels you can fit in here then I’ll respect her opinion until proven otherwise.” The words were kept formal.  “You will start with the rank of Alkaa.  Basically ‘unranked’.  Get yourself settled, and find a den.  Make sure you have a good understanding of the rules.  Then, you can prove your abilities to me and we can see about promoting you into a specific field.”

Satira could cut in whenever she liked but Kotori wasn’t going to pull her into the conversation.  Let her consider matters as long as she wanted first or maybe her father would try to approach her.  Joining Valta was business Kotori was part of, father and daughter relationship was not.  Well, unless Mo upset her, and then Ko might have business in it.

"Kotori Fatalis"

It seemed at least, Asla's endorsement was enough to earn him passage but the relief of that moment was quickly replaced with a tidal wave of emotions. The approach of an all too familiar figure, she was grown now, he'd seen her when she'd been a young adult and she was hardly different from then but to his eyes it was like seeing her for the first time, she'd grown into such a beautiful young woman. He couldn't help but watch as his daughter approached though he tried to keep his focus on Kotori it took him a moment too long to drag his attention away from Satira, he had managed to clamp down on his emotions enough to keep them from playing across his face however, at least after the initial moment he'd seen her when he was sure he'd lit up in the most obvious fashion. He was doing his best to ride it out, the pride, the joy, the guilt, the anxiety, all of it battering at him. He failed to stop the light wagging of his tail though. For whatever choice she would make he would simply be glad that she'd shown up at all. He didn't even deserve to ask that much of her but it made him happy nonetheless. Kotori ran through some quick expectations and Mojito nodded, he was used to having to prove himself, it wasn't exactly ideal of course, he had hoped that Sirius' initial endorsement would have helped but he wasn't starting from nothing and once he got his bearings about him he hoped he could prove himself more than useful... For however long he needed to. And that was that, he'd found himself a place to rest, a place to let himself heal, (the still angry red marks of Azure's teeth on his muzzle stood starkly against his white coat, luckily they were superficial and not infected a few more days and they'd fade from view by his estimation) a place to figure out what came next... But right this second? Well right this second he felt like he was about to jump from the pan to the fire. He gave Kotori a gracious dip of his head and made to move past the border, take the young man's advice and get himself settled but standing between him and that was Satira... Almost literally. He ached to run to her and hold her and apologize for not having been there, for not being enough, but he didn't... Wouldn't. Couldn't. He'd missed it but she was a woman grown, and he had no intentions of disrespecting that. He shuffled awkwardly, moving at an odd pace in her general direction, though she was not his final destination, no he fully planned to walk past if she showed no desire to stop him, he'd acknowledge her at least in that case, a nod of the head, the slightest of smiles, whatever he thought would make it clear he wasn't simply ignoring her. He wanted to give her space, give her control of this situation and let her approach whenever she felt ready, if she ever did. But he also didn't want to seem he was brushing her off, because yeah frankly he was hopping he'd be stopped. And so his in between speed, too slow to appear as though he wanted to avoid her but just too fast to be drawing it out... ”Speech”  ’Thought’

For the duration of Mojito’s meeting with Kotori, Satira sat on the periphery of the conversation, listening in but not engaging or reacting in any visible way. Inside, she was a maelstrom, a tumultuous storm of whirlwind emotions she didn’t know how to decipher or which to embrace and which to reject. She said nothing in his defense or his prosecution, a silent observer just witnessing whatever unfolded from this meeting. Seeing the way his expression lit up and long-furred tail, so similar to her own, began to wag in obvious enthusiasm struck her like a dagger to the heart. In the end, her father ended up joining Valta, and Kotori laid out the basic rules before turning him loose to get settled in. That was when Tira’s heart seized up in her chest, her breath catching as she watched her sire step over the borders and move in her direction.

She was so conflicted. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to feel? Once upon a time, Tira would have gone sprinting to her father, all smiles and overjoyed to see him. But that Satira wasn’t here anymore. She’d stopped existing somewhere between Mojito’s third and fifth disappearance from her life. After she’d shared her feelings of abandonment, of being an unwanted consequence of her parents’ fun and he’d promised he’d be there for her… he wasn’t. He’d vanished from her life, like all the times before. It had been a catalyst that had propelled her into her hedonistic tendencies to cope with the insecurity, the source of her feelings of being unwanted or insignificant. Her lifelong struggle of finding who she was and where she felt she belonged. That wasn’t to say it was all entirely Mojito’s fault alone, but his absence had certainly done her no favors for that festering negativity that haunted her heart like a wraith.

He came up to her, and two sets of pale blue eyes met. Tira's eyes reflected a broken and sad soul, a yearning and yet an apprehension and fear. She had no words to say. Her tongue felt numb, her vocal cords paralyzed with emotion. All she could do was look at him as he offered her a ghost of a smile and a nod of his head—and then onward he went. No words were exchanged, no greetings, no apologies—just nothing. Acknowledgement of her existence and then nothing. Satira's heart broke all over again. Her shoulders slumped, floppy ears folding back in a miserable display. He didn't even try to talk to her this time. That hurt more than all of his hollow apologies had time and time before. With that, the miasma of turbulent emotions in her chest found focus, and one came roaring out of the maelstrom stronger than all the rest. Anger.

Steel blue eyes narrowed to points as the little wolf-dog rounded on her passing father, glaring at his backside while he kept moving. "No!" she shouted after Mojito, jaws clenching into a snarl as dainty paws rushed nimbly through the grass to cut her sire off, blocking him with her body and force him to stop. "No, you don't just get to walk in here like the last three years didn't happen. You don't get to pretend like everything's okay, because it's fucking not!" Satira's chest heaved as she swallowed down shallow breaths, trying to keep herself composed enough to not break down completely and to stay strong while confronting her absentee father. Piercing icy eyes held his, having to look up to meet his gaze, but in her rage Satira felt like a giant. So many questions buzzed around in her head like angry hornets, so many things she wanted to say burning on the tip of her tongue. But one screamed in her head and her heart louder than all the rest. "What's your problem with me, Dad? What's so wrong with me that you didn't ever want to be around?"

"Satira"

He'd fucked up, he knew that. He hadn't realized just how much exactly he'd fucked up though, and it was about to slap him across his face. The "No!" sent a spike of ice through him and he stopped, his whole body stiff for a moment before he took a deep breath, the awkwardness had not left him but he tried to keep himself from becoming to rigid, too stiff. He deserved whatever volley his daughter was about to launch his way and he didn't want to be defensive about it. He met her gaze, taking in her anger, all he gave her in return was his own pain, sadness and guilt. He'd done this to her. He didn't even try to defend himself, try to rebuff her he just stood there his guilt growing with each barb. Finally she flung a question at him and he sighed, a deep pained sound. ”You were never the problem.” His voice was soft and his gaze slid down for a moment the shame flooding through him. ”I was. I was dealing with so much, and doing it poorly, I'd always wanted to shield you from it, to protect you from the doubt and insecurity I've struggled with my whole life but clearly that backfired.” He met her gaze again, it was a truth, part of why he'd been so distant was that he hadn't felt stable in so long, drifting further and further away from any sign of the life he'd once thought he'd had and it had been enough to make him nearly panic, for all the work he'd done on himself and the way he presented himself the truth was he still feared that he was never enough and it had come all crashing down on him all over again when Asla had decided to take the kids, like he'd already been a failure as a father, like she was saying that by giving him no choice in the matter... But he wasn't here to poison any wells and he had no intentions of rehashing feelings now long dead. He'd fucked up his relationship with Asla too but they were once more on good terms. ”I have no intentions of pushing myself on you, you're a woman grown,” he smiled softly at that, ”and I respect that you're life is within your control, and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.” There it was he was laying his intentions out clearly, he wouldn't engage with her unless she desired. ”But you're right, none of what I did was okay, I am sorry.” For hurting her, for abandoning her, for making her think she was anything but perfect. ”Nothing was ever your fault. I wasn't capable of dealing with my issues like an adult and you suffered for it and that wasn't fair to you. I don't expect your forgiveness but for whatever it is worth: I am sorry.” He dropped his gaze then, head lowering as he did. Honestly right now if she asked him to leave he would, he'd explain to Asla and try to find somewhere else he could rest and hide out. It wasn't like he expected to have much luck but his priority right now was making sure he did everything in his power to not hurt Satira again. ”Speech”  ’Thought’

Satira wasn't sure what she expected from her father with each pointed jab she barraged him with. Maybe part of it was just to vent the thoughts and feelings she'd been keeping bottled up for so long. Maybe it was to show him just how badly he'd fucked up by making the choices he had. Maybe it was just to do something to keep him from walking away again and say her piece before she lost the determination to do so again. When Mojito did finally speak, the words he said were not what Tira was bracing herself for. She knew her father wasn't cruel; if anything, he was too empathetic and kind. But still, hearing him claim that she was never the problem and admitting to his own faults felt like it took all the furious wind out of her sails. She didn't want to beat up on her despondent sire. He was doing enough of that to himself without her addition. He apologized to her—apologized twice—and expressed that he had no desire to force himself into her life. If she wanted him to be a part of it, that was the only way he would be.

Tira swallowed back hard, trying to force down the emotions threatening to choke her. Breathing was difficult, her chest heavy with those repressed feelings bubbling out of her. Steel blue eyes were still pointed at him, her gaze narrowed, but beyond the anger and frustration lay a sorrow and a heartache she could never express. Mojito bowed his head, looking as if he were mourning the death of their relationship, and in a way Satira was glad he was. Perhaps their relationship was long since dead and buried with no chance of revival. Maybe others would have told her to tell him to leave for once and for all, to put him out the way he had done to her time and time again. But that wasn't what she wanted. Satira wasn't a vindictive or vengeful creature. She didn't want to hurt anyone. That had been her biggest driving force behind becoming a healer. Now she had the power to lay her sire low and exile him from her life for good or to forgive him and let him back in.

The tawny wolf-dog shook her head, turning her gaze away from Mojito's for a brief moment so he wouldn't see her wiping away the tears creeping up in the corners of her eyes. She disguised a sniffle behind a deep breath, then looking back at him again. Maybe he would be perceptive and notice the shimmer of teardrops in her eyes, or maybe he wouldn't. "Y'know, all I ever wanted was to be like you. I looked up to you so much, Dad. You were a hero to me," she said, struggling to keep her voice level and even. "I never saw doubt and insecurity in you. You made me feel like it was okay to be me, to be the way we were." She was referring to their lineage, of course. A half-breed and a quarter-breed. "You were the reason I wanted to be a healer too. I wanted to be just like you and help people. And y'know what? I did. I became a damn good healer. I saved a wolf from dying and another from losing his tail. I helped patch up the fighters after the raid. I learned all on my own, I did this all on my own."

Satira shook her head and released a heavy sigh, her head hanging as her floppy ear drooped. "I never wanted you to be perfect, Dad. I just wanted you to be there. I was all alone. Mom had Uncle Indy and they started their own family. Arc has his new girlfriend. I had no one... and it hurt even more knowing you were out there somewhere but you just weren't here." Yes, Tira knew all about Asla and Indigo. There were little mysteries left to the little wolf-dog who'd been forced to grow up fast. She looked up to Mojito, looking into those eyes that mirrored her own. "I want you to know just how much you missed, Dad. You're right, we can't get that time back. It's gone forever. But if I forgive you, if I let you back in, how can I know you won't disappear again?" How could she be sure she wouldn't wake up one day to find him gone without a trace once more? How many times could she let him back into her life only to receive heartbreak and confusion in return? She looked up at Mo, pleading with him to give her something real to believe in. She didn't want to turn him away. She wanted her father back. But she'd been burned so many times now, trust had to be earned.

"Satira"

Mojito could see so much of himself in his daughter, he loved Asla, always would, but he had no illusions about her temper and the emotions he could see playing through his daughter? They were all him... And that made it hurt even more. He remained silent, watching Satira carefully but without judgment. He had said his piece and didn't intend to plead his case if she wanted him gone. It was one of the few kindnesses he could still give her. But seeing her hurting, it made him want to reach out, to break the space between them and just hold her close. That was another punishment for his behaviour in its own way. Finally she did speak and Mojito simply listened. Or well that had been the plan but right out the gate he was taking more another emotional beating. He'd really fucked up. Messed up one of the few good things he'd ever had and as she spoke about how she'd seen him he couldn't help the prickle in his eyes though he fought to keep his tears locked away, he had no right to cry, not when he'd been the one to do this to them. Still as she spoke of the work she'd put into her craft he couldn't help the small sad smile that tugged at his lips, proud of her all the same. He had no doubt she was skilled, if he was lucky she was leagues better than he was. But that smile dropped quickly enough. Loneliness... That was a feeling he was intimately familiar with and he closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat as he continued to push back the sobs that screamed to be released. He met her gaze. "I want you to know just how much you missed, Dad." Oh he knew, just looking at her he could see it. It made him feel old, made the fresh wounds starting to dry in his fur feel like distance stings, scars from a life time ago. Her question was a fair one, even worse it was one he knew he'd never have a real answer to. Unless he sold himself into servitude there would never be anything he could say that would be assurance enough... For a moment Satoru flashed in his mind, something that for the first time since he'd met the man made him want to chase the thought of the handsome man away. He could feel himself being torn in two. That was the thing that shattered the dam, though he didn't let himself collapse in on himself instead speaking as steadily as the free flowing tears would let him. ”I know well enough that there is nothing I can ever say that can be enough.” He didn't let it linger too long but he wasn't about to pretend he could win her over with pretty words. ”I'd be lying if I said I didn't dream of getting to be part of your life again. The images of getting to settle down and be a family, getting to watch you grow older... I never pushed them away but I also know I have no right to that. Or maybe I'm a coward who couldn't handle knowing for certain I didn't even deserve to hope.” He smiled bitterly. How many times had he woken from that dream to a constricting pain in his chest? ”I can tell you that my plan is that for as long as it's within my control I don't plan to leave Valta.” Truth plain and simple. ”But I am painfully aware of how little is within my control.” There were so many variables. Kotori deciding he wasn't worth it, Satoru- Satira wanting him gone. ”I'm tired.” He admitted, the exhaustion seeming to settle over him, as if the weight of it was aging him right then and there. ”I want to stop running, I don't need things to be good, I just want things to be okay. But I love you too much for the price of whatever peace I might seek to be you.” He wanted to rest, wanted to belong, wanted to make it clear that no matter what he loved her and it was because he loved her that he couldn't give her a good answer. He wasn't willing to give her any hope he couldn't be sure he wouldn't dash. He owed Satoru something, that was the problem. He couldn't simply free the man from his servitude to simply abandon him to a world he had been kept from for years. Fuck! Mojito grit his teeth and closed his eyes again, the fight turning inward. He wished he cared less, in that moment he wished he could turn it all off for Satoru and could simply assure his daughter than he had joined Valta and that was the end of the deal. And he hated himself for wanting that too. He hated that he cared, that he loved. All it brought to him was pain, and all his love seemed to give to anyone else was pain and resentment. There was too much he owed her, the whole explanation about the man he was now desperately trying to cut away from his heart, the guilt even having these feelings gave him because it was something between him and her. He owed her to spill his guts but he was finding he couldn't. The words were too tangled up in his inner struggle. ”I wish I could shut everything else out, so you'd be the only thing in the world I cared about.” That was all he managed, spoken softly as he tried and failed to make it so. And he hated himself for admitting it, for admitting that there were things he cared about that weren't his daughter. And he hated himself for wanting it all the same. Neither Satira nor Satoru deserved to have to deal with him. The latter deserved someone who would never try to remove how much they cared about him. The former deserved a father that could give her his everything. And they both deserved someone who wouldn't be so focused on himself even at a time like this. ”Speech”  ’Thought’

Satira waited... waited... holding out hope that Mojito would say something that gave her faith that this time would be different from all the others. But that reassurance never came. Instead, her father confessed that nothing he could say could mend the damage his absence had left, and maybe there was truth in that. He said he planned to remain in Valta for as long as he had a say in the matter, that he wanted to settle down and start being a family, and how he wished he could shut the rest of the world out from themselves. Tira scoffed and shook her head; that would be all too easy an answer, and life was rarely so simple or kind. She looked away over to her right for a moment, watching the wind ripple the tall grasses for a moment while she tried to gather her thoughts and make some kind of decision. Her father had given her no sort of reassurance that he meant what he said or that he wouldn't spontaneously leave into thin air again. All she had to hold onto was the fact that he was here right now. Maybe the cold hard truth that he couldn't reassure her worried mind was a bit of reassurance in of itself. Mojito wasn't just telling her what she wanted to hear; he was being earnest with her.

She had a choice to make. Tira could either show her sire mercy and forgive him, let him back into her life and roll the dice on whether she got burned again or she could refuse his apology and keep him at bay, forever severing their ties and killing their relationship to keep her own heart safe. The logical side of her knew that trusting in Mojito was a risky choice given the lessons history had taught her. But the young woman was far too ruled by her heart. She did not want to hold onto anger or resentment in her life. She did not want to live bitterly or vengefully. And if that meant getting hurt again... well, consider it a harsh lesson learned. Tira was beginning to build a nice little collection of scars on her heart anyways. Looking back to Mo, the tawny wolf-dog took a tentative step closer to him, trying to look brave in the face of confronting her father, no matter how much it pained her heart to do so. "If you want to be a part of my life, Dad, then you can prove it," she declared, meeting his eyes with a resolute gaze. "No more running, no more disappearing. You stay and you be a part of it. If you want to try and fix this-" She gestured between the two of them with a paw. "-then you put in the effort. Because I want you to stay and be here and be a family again. I don't want to be angry or sad or upset. I just want my dad back."

Satira took another step closer to Mojito, now only a stride away from him, not breaking eye contact from her sire. She held his gaze with stern steel blue eyes. She needed him to know how serious she was about this. "But if you leave again, Dad... there's no more chances. I can't keep doing this with you if you're not willing to show me that our relationship matters to you. So I need you to tell me right here and now that you're in this for good. Because if you can't be... then the next time you leave, don't bother coming back to find me." The words she spoke were harsh, but they were said with no venom nor vitriol in her tone. Her words weren't spoken from a place of anger or resentment, but from the pain of a child who didn't understand why her father had never been there. They came from a heart so desperate to love, but so bruised and broken from the hurt of the past, trying its best to protect itself while still believing in the one man who mattered the most to her. Those piercing blue eyes looked up to her black and white sire, only slightly taller than she was, softened with a vulnerability and and a hurt that so desperately wanted him to convince her that he wasn't going to leave her alone again. She just wanted her father back and not have to worry about losing him again.

"Satira"

She stepped towards him and it was like some switch in Mojito was flipped, his breathing was still ragged, still stuttering but the sobs stopped and he lifted his gaze towards her, not even daring to hope at this point. He hadn't been able to give her anything. He just hadn't been willing to lie. He stayed there watching her as she spoke and the part of him that felt like it was tearing in half ripped deeper, deeper, deeper. He knew. He knew then that he'd kill the part of himself that had fallen so deeply in love with the freckled man if it ever got in the way of finally being there for his daughter. It killed him but the idea of ever doing this to her again, ever hurting so bad was worse. His decision was made, he wasn't sure there ever had been. He'd fight to stay if Kotori ever decided he wasn't worth it, he'd- He'd explain the situation to Nao, that at the end of the day he wasn't willing to compromise whatever remained of his relationship with his daughter and if that meant they couldn't- Well he'd end it right then and there. He held her gaze silently for a while after she'd spoken, processing the words he wanted to say, everything he needed to say. ”I won't leave.” The words were simple, his voice hoarse and soft but he felt his own conviction behind them at least, even if she couldn't or didn't trust it. ”I'd rather die than hurt you again.” And he meant it, he'd personally ask Asla to kill him if he ever left again, ever put their daughter through this ever again. He felt like there were a million more things he could say, maybe even should say... But nothing else felt right, he didn't want to over promise anything and he wasn't looking to plead his case. He just wanted to hold tight to the sliver of hope he'd been handed and never let it go. ”Speech”  ’Thought’