houtsuin:
You try to figure out humanity by trying to observe the person who almost lives like a machine. Huh. And then you cause enough of an impression, then leave him without a word. It almost makes him wonder if you really understood anything at all. You came and left without warning, without wanting anything… you only made it clear that you did not belong. Here or anywhere.
And that you clearly did not belong with him, as Yamato’s ideals took shape; as they turned into something you did not approve of, as the young Chief was constantly exposed to the ugliness of this world. It was almost ironic - how Alcor distanced himself from them, and could only be enamored with beings Yamato labelled as unrealistic. It was like that ever since the beginning.
Apologies wouldn’t change anything. They were treading different paths, but no matter what… they’d cross each other and clash. The man regarded this outcome as pitiful, but perhaps this was the only way this could be settled. It had always been a strange relationship, and one that he sometimes wished that hadn’t happened at all.
It brought him knowledge, but at what price? That lingering feeling that this was somehow his fault (immediately discarded), that…
… unnecessary feelings he couldn’t quite put into words. This man was responsible for far too many things, and no amount of good deeds could erase the burden he placed onto the Hotsuin’s shoulders.
No amount of good deeds could erase their faulty relationship, the fact that way too many things relied on the Chief now to be executed. Sometimes he’d wonder if things would’ve gone differently if his own circumstances were different.
Other times he could not see himself as someone who wasn’t dedicated to his job and position. Pretending to be something that you are not…
… wasn’t it exactly what Alcor was doing?
To note that one such as he does not belong is a truthful observation. Among no man, no beast, not even the stars there is no home for him. He exists for a singular purpose, one he had wanted to deny once with what little bit of willpower he had. Or so humans might say. What resistance he had given may as well have been nothing more than a minor quirk within his system.
And maybe the rest of him is a series of errors, ones to be righted after his temporary dissent. No the Sepentriones were never made to understand the world beyond observations. They were not made to learn. They were not made to change. To influence. To be influenced. They simply are.
A simple existence.
An existence incompatible with humanity. Even a human who was stripped of everything that made them a human, removed from chances and choices to be human. A human is simply human. A machine is a machine. What good deeds he may have done are deeds observed to be beneficial.
To be human is to bond and project upon others, even those who cannot be human.
He understands now. All that he has done was simply be a design he must follow.
A design for effectiveness. To study and learn. To truly challenge humanity he must set things on an opportune course. He must learn. He must understand. So he must emulate.
Never will he be human. But human-like he can be. Human-like he must be. That understanding. That understanding must be reached on both sides. The man of years past, the man in those memories, never was. It was no human man that set anything on the path. It was a machine doing as it must.
It was a machine that could not truly feel guilt over any of its actions.
