[Frankly, she's relieved to hear this. 9S should still resent her honestly, should still want to hurt her, and she would gladly welcome it. She still remembers that day in the Sand Temple when she all but begged him to kill her, giving him her own sword to do it, and even then he only turned it on himself. It settles something in her chest, to know that 9S really was upset with her. Enough to want to hurt her for it.
Which is why it isn't enough to her. He should still be upset with her. He should want to hurt her more than ever, now that he knows exactly how many times she hurt him. No matter how much he cares for her, no matter how much she treasures that, it doesn't change what she did to him. She can't imagine the pain her absence could have caused him because in her eyes, it was the best thing that could've happened for him.]
That doesn't change what I did to you.
[But maybe there's one good thing that can come of this. She's held back these words for so, so long, because to say them to him would be to admit to what she's done. For so many reasons, she couldn't let him know. And now, those reasons no longer existed. There was no secret to uphold, no mission to complete, no duty to perform.
She hangs her head, hands balling the fabric of her skirt in her fists.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[It's not an excuse for what she's done. Nothing ever could be. It's only the truth, plain and simple. That first time, when she'd obliterated his personality data rather than simply and mercifully killing him, she remembers thinking to herself that she wouldn't apologize. She couldn't. This was her duty.
How laughable. For better or worse, she simply wasn't programmed to be so. After all this time, how could she not regret what she's done, feel remorse for all the pain she's caused?]
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Which is why it isn't enough to her. He should still be upset with her. He should want to hurt her more than ever, now that he knows exactly how many times she hurt him. No matter how much he cares for her, no matter how much she treasures that, it doesn't change what she did to him. She can't imagine the pain her absence could have caused him because in her eyes, it was the best thing that could've happened for him.]
That doesn't change what I did to you.
[But maybe there's one good thing that can come of this. She's held back these words for so, so long, because to say them to him would be to admit to what she's done. For so many reasons, she couldn't let him know. And now, those reasons no longer existed. There was no secret to uphold, no mission to complete, no duty to perform.
She hangs her head, hands balling the fabric of her skirt in her fists.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—
[It's not an excuse for what she's done. Nothing ever could be. It's only the truth, plain and simple. That first time, when she'd obliterated his personality data rather than simply and mercifully killing him, she remembers thinking to herself that she wouldn't apologize. She couldn't. This was her duty.
How laughable. For better or worse, she simply wasn't programmed to be so. After all this time, how could she not regret what she's done, feel remorse for all the pain she's caused?]