dancapa
Sitting out on the front steps of their house, Shintaro is thoughtful. It’s more common than he’s usually given credit for. The solitude of this dying evening is interrupted by the creaky opening of the screen door--and the appearance of none other than the danchou herself. Probably wondering why he’s not grabbing dinner by now. Shintaro simply rolls his shoulders.
“...Hey,” he says at length, absently twisting the fabric of his jacket around in his hands. Might as well just say what he’s thinking--she’ll ask anyway. “It’s...not important I guess...Or it can’t be helped more like, but...Do you think it’s a good thing we’re here?”
There exists some thoroughly bizarre positives in this terrible situation, and Shintaro doesn’t really want to entertain the possibility of Stockholm Syndrome; it’s not fondness for their captors so much as it is a sort of idle acceptance. It’s a form of helplessness.
Like with a lot of things, Shintaro is largely apathetic. So maybe he’ll ask people who aren’t.
