（ he's opening his mouth to reply to her — to tell her about the delineation between unagiya and what he does as a shinigami — but his mouth snaps shut with a click at that whisper.
he's no stranger to hearing voices. from the first moment he laid his hands on zangetsu, when both shiro and the old man started muttering in his ear. he'd thought he was going insane until after he knew the truth himself, the dichotomies of his heritage finally rationalizing the trajectory of his life, the particularity of how his skills developed. but this one clearly isn't meant for him, and he stops — at once impossibly still and on edge. one hand extends on instinct alone — yet, despite his best efforts tensa zangetsu doesn't respond to him here. being without a weapon doesn't sit well with him, so — he just. braces a foot against the wall and yanks at one of those pipes until it comes away in his hand, turning to face the direction of the whispers.
or — more accurately, to face nami, who looks like fury incarnate.
he actually takes a step back from her, less out of fear and more because he's learned it's wiser to retreat from the possibility of a misunderstanding than to stand your ground. ）
It wasn't me.
（ it's not said defensively, just plainly as his fingers flex around the pipe. the words and whatever meaning they hold for her... it's cruel, isn't it? he studies her expression for a moment, and the furrow in his brow is something like sympathy. ）
Come on, go ahead of me. （ holds out the flashlight for her to take. ） Keep moving. If it's a ghost I'll deal with it, I'll catch up with you. Stay to the right.
no subject
he's no stranger to hearing voices. from the first moment he laid his hands on zangetsu, when both shiro and the old man started muttering in his ear. he'd thought he was going insane until after he knew the truth himself, the dichotomies of his heritage finally rationalizing the trajectory of his life, the particularity of how his skills developed. but this one clearly isn't meant for him, and he stops — at once impossibly still and on edge. one hand extends on instinct alone — yet, despite his best efforts tensa zangetsu doesn't respond to him here. being without a weapon doesn't sit well with him, so — he just. braces a foot against the wall and yanks at one of those pipes until it comes away in his hand, turning to face the direction of the whispers.
or — more accurately, to face nami, who looks like fury incarnate.
he actually takes a step back from her, less out of fear and more because he's learned it's wiser to retreat from the possibility of a misunderstanding than to stand your ground. ）
It wasn't me.
（ it's not said defensively, just plainly as his fingers flex around the pipe. the words and whatever meaning they hold for her... it's cruel, isn't it? he studies her expression for a moment, and the furrow in his brow is something like sympathy. ）
Come on, go ahead of me. （ holds out the flashlight for her to take. ） Keep moving. If it's a ghost I'll deal with it, I'll catch up with you. Stay to the right.