[He wasn't planning on anything- but it's a useful card to hold over Itou, a Sword of Damocles to dangle over him. That much is clear from the man's reaction alone.
But before he can bluff a little more, push a little further, Kaiji goes on talking and Tonegawa finds himself hesitating once again. It isn't just a matter of choosing his words carefully, he doesn't know how to respond at all. Does he blame Kaiji? He's been kicking him around for the last year, certainly, and salting his wounds gives him an unmatchable sort of pleasure. Blame, though...
The glass in his hand feels cool against his skin, wet with condensation. Paler skin, rougher skin, the same as on his forehead. When he looks at his scars in the mirror, is it Kaiji's face he sees? Hyodo's? Or is it his own, staring fiercely ahead and utterly determined to avoid meeting his own gaze?
He sounds precarious, as if balanced over some precipice.]
Do I blame you? Do I blame the man who threw me from my own tower? The man who demanded I prostrate myself before him, forehead to foot? The trash that destroyed my reputation?
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But before he can bluff a little more, push a little further, Kaiji goes on talking and Tonegawa finds himself hesitating once again. It isn't just a matter of choosing his words carefully, he doesn't know how to respond at all. Does he blame Kaiji? He's been kicking him around for the last year, certainly, and salting his wounds gives him an unmatchable sort of pleasure. Blame, though...
The glass in his hand feels cool against his skin, wet with condensation. Paler skin, rougher skin, the same as on his forehead. When he looks at his scars in the mirror, is it Kaiji's face he sees? Hyodo's? Or is it his own, staring fiercely ahead and utterly determined to avoid meeting his own gaze?
He sounds precarious, as if balanced over some precipice.]
Do I blame you? Do I blame the man who threw me from my own tower? The man who demanded I prostrate myself before him, forehead to foot? The trash that destroyed my reputation?