[Arisato's ability to use multiple Persona is complicated to explain, especially when he barely understands it himself, but it sounds like this Giorno guy is in an entirely different league anyway. Creating life from nothing ... that sure sounds like something no human should be able to do.
But he listens to the story, and the farther he gets, the more something twists inside his gut. It's horrifying, what Mista describes. Just picturing it makes him feel vaguely sick, but through it all, he can't think even once that Giorno didn't do the right thing. He can't help but feel grief for this person he's never met, who's dead now. It wasn't Giorno's fault, he thinks. He just tried to save someone he loved; Buccellati's blood was never on his hands. He can't imagine this other dead man blamed him, either.
He draws his arms in close, holding himself as if he's cold. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sad. He doesn't look at Mista.]
...He couldn't forgive himself for how bad it went. But I wonder how he would've felt if he didn't try.
[Shinjiro can't forgive himself either way. Even if he did manage to change the past, somehow, he can never let himself forget what happened. But Giorno didn't know what could happen. Now, Shinjiro does. And rolling the dice on knowingly inflicting that kind of suffering? In his heart, he knows it's wrong. For all the selfish, guilt-ridden decisions he's made since that night, trying somehow to do right by everyone by getting rid of himself from the equation -- he knows it's wrong.
It's enough to get him a few more feet, anyway. Enough to get him to the box. But then he stops, clutching the box with both hands. He tries to hide his face but his shoulders start shaking, hard.]
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be me.
no subject
But he listens to the story, and the farther he gets, the more something twists inside his gut. It's horrifying, what Mista describes. Just picturing it makes him feel vaguely sick, but through it all, he can't think even once that Giorno didn't do the right thing. He can't help but feel grief for this person he's never met, who's dead now. It wasn't Giorno's fault, he thinks. He just tried to save someone he loved; Buccellati's blood was never on his hands. He can't imagine this other dead man blamed him, either.
He draws his arms in close, holding himself as if he's cold. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sad. He doesn't look at Mista.]
...He couldn't forgive himself for how bad it went. But I wonder how he would've felt if he didn't try.
[Shinjiro can't forgive himself either way. Even if he did manage to change the past, somehow, he can never let himself forget what happened. But Giorno didn't know what could happen. Now, Shinjiro does. And rolling the dice on knowingly inflicting that kind of suffering? In his heart, he knows it's wrong. For all the selfish, guilt-ridden decisions he's made since that night, trying somehow to do right by everyone by getting rid of himself from the equation -- he knows it's wrong.
It's enough to get him a few more feet, anyway. Enough to get him to the box. But then he stops, clutching the box with both hands. He tries to hide his face but his shoulders start shaking, hard.]
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be me.