Not because he doesn't want Nanami to be alive - there is no world where he wouldn't wish for that if wishes could come true, no world where he wouldn't trade his own life for Nanami's in a heartbeat if it was on offer - but because he knows what kind of pain this is going to cause. In Shibuya, he had made a promise, a vow of his own, that he would carry Nanami's share of suffering, carry the weight of his burdens, not let his own grief and hurt make him run away. He was going to refuse to be a coward.
All of that is being undone here, ruined in a moment of childish grief, stripping Yuji of any sensibility or rationality (not that he had a lot of that to spare either way).
The more hiccuping sobs that come out, the worse he feels rather than better. Nanami says let it out but it feels so painfully endless, a well of self-loathing and hurt that is running too deep, enough to rival the ocean itself. It reminds him of how he had fallen to pieces after Kugisaki had been taken from him too, that span of fifteen minutes where Sukuna, Nanami and Nobara had been a three punch hit, robbing him of any strength and leaving him wishing that he was dead.
Those kinds of thoughts don't just disappear; those feelings don't die out. Yuji has learned his place, and happiness didn't fit into that mould.
His hands lift to grip at Nanami's shirt as he cries himself out, to the point of exhaustion, his tail lump behind him and his ears pressed down against his head in misery. He's really not sure how long he stands there crying, but he's rational enough near the end, when his tears become less hiccuping sobs and more shaky, pained breathing, shivers running through him as he tries to find his voice. Even when he speaks, his throat feels sticky, cotton wool trapping his words away.
Yuji can't lift his head to look up, afraid of what he'll see, gripping at Nanami and shaking his head. ]
I'm sorry. It's all my fault, I - I didn't mean for things to be the way they were.
[ He's still crying, but the tears are rolling quietly now rather than sobs, all of his strength sapped from him as he leans into the comforting warmth in front of him instead. ]
no subject
Not because he doesn't want Nanami to be alive - there is no world where he wouldn't wish for that if wishes could come true, no world where he wouldn't trade his own life for Nanami's in a heartbeat if it was on offer - but because he knows what kind of pain this is going to cause. In Shibuya, he had made a promise, a vow of his own, that he would carry Nanami's share of suffering, carry the weight of his burdens, not let his own grief and hurt make him run away. He was going to refuse to be a coward.
All of that is being undone here, ruined in a moment of childish grief, stripping Yuji of any sensibility or rationality (not that he had a lot of that to spare either way).
The more hiccuping sobs that come out, the worse he feels rather than better. Nanami says let it out but it feels so painfully endless, a well of self-loathing and hurt that is running too deep, enough to rival the ocean itself. It reminds him of how he had fallen to pieces after Kugisaki had been taken from him too, that span of fifteen minutes where Sukuna, Nanami and Nobara had been a three punch hit, robbing him of any strength and leaving him wishing that he was dead.
Those kinds of thoughts don't just disappear; those feelings don't die out. Yuji has learned his place, and happiness didn't fit into that mould.
His hands lift to grip at Nanami's shirt as he cries himself out, to the point of exhaustion, his tail lump behind him and his ears pressed down against his head in misery. He's really not sure how long he stands there crying, but he's rational enough near the end, when his tears become less hiccuping sobs and more shaky, pained breathing, shivers running through him as he tries to find his voice. Even when he speaks, his throat feels sticky, cotton wool trapping his words away.
Yuji can't lift his head to look up, afraid of what he'll see, gripping at Nanami and shaking his head. ]
I'm sorry. It's all my fault, I - I didn't mean for things to be the way they were.
[ He's still crying, but the tears are rolling quietly now rather than sobs, all of his strength sapped from him as he leans into the comforting warmth in front of him instead. ]