（ sometimes it feels the beat of his heart follows the rhythm of sasuke's name. from the first moment the held him in the hospital, he had known there was nothing he would not do for him. he had only ever wished to spare him from the cruelties of their world, but in the end he had been the thing to drag him into the muck and the mire. his actions were the undertow that pulled him beneath the dark waters of the shinobi life.
he had been so blind, then. ）
His name is Sasuke.
（ no emotion muddies his tone, or overtakes his inscrutable expression. if not for what wei wuxian already knows of his regret — and even then, barely the footnotes of that sad old story — it would be impossible to discern sasuke has anything to do with his being aboard the ximilia at all. ）
[He doesn't have to ask if this brother is the same person his regret revolves around. Not because Itachi gives any indication, but because Wei Wuxian has a brother too. Because his own regret at its core is all about Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli. He knows what it is to be a sibling. Knows the all consuming love it entails.
A soft sound escapes from his throat, pained for the both of them even if Itachi doesn't want it.
I bet you were a good older brother. He doesn't let the words pass his lips even as the memory of Itachi wiping his tears only moments ago springs to mind. They're too alike for it to be so simple. Criminal and terrorist, he'd said. Wei Wuxian thinks he might hurt him if he let those words out. (And there is no question in his mind whether older or younger brother. It is older brothers after all who must look after their siblings.)]
My brother's name is Jiang Cheng. [Then, with some effort—] "Yún kuò yān shēn shù, jiāng chéng shuǐ yù qiū." "Vast clouds and mists entwine the deep forest trees; autumn bathes in the clear river." It's common where I'm from to derive names from poetry. His name means clear river.
[He doesn't know why he's telling Itachi any of this, but it feels nice to share.]
His name does not have meaning in that way — its characters, taken together, mean 'assistance' or 'aid'.
（ he sends a quick text message of the two kanji — «佐助» ）
He was named after a great shinobi warrior of our village, Sarutobi Sasuke, whose son would be renowned as Hokage in my time. My parents chose the name to honour him.
[It's a good name, especially for a warrior, he thinks.]
I like his name. It's hopeful. [There's a faint smile on his lips but it dims a moment later, exhaustion showing through.]
If I can succeed in righting my regret, my sister and brother will get to have the lives they should have but it won't undo the choices I made. I hear people here talking about their regrets like it'll make everything okay, but it doesn't feel that way to me.
( hope does not feel like something left as his brother's inheritance in their world. it is only the curse of their clan and endless loneliness stretching on the path before him. the quirk at one corner of his mouth betrays nothing. )
For some, it may be enough. But lives and regrets both are complicated — and new difficulties will arise from what of our histories have changed. The orbs possess no altruism — there will be many unforeseen consequences, and I do not believe most to have thought them through.
( footsteps on a mountain are sufficient to start an avalanche. he is aware that telling sasuke and enlisting his assistance against the coup may not be enough. he will be swinging danzō's focus around on his brother that much sooner, and unless he remembers his time here he will be no match for the man himself.
but if he dies, and shisui survives — that would be enough to save sasuke. kotoamatsukami could still be brought into play, and well worth his own life in exchange. )
[There's something reassuring about Itachi not speaking about it like he's heard others. It feels more real this way, acknowledging the fallout. Even if everything did go to plan, it wouldn't change that somewhere sometime, he had brought ruin upon his loved ones.]
There's so much that can go wrong. [And considering his own regret will take him out of the picture, he wouldn't be there to try to stop it. Then again, it's not like any of his choices have ever done anything but hurt others.
Zewu-jun's words rise to the surface of his thoughts and bitterness wells within him again.]
I haven't told you about my crimes. What they were. The things I did. There were many, some more founded than others. Tonight I learned of something new.
Yes. [If you're willing to hear it he does not add. Itachi has made it clear that he doesn't tolerate what he doesn't wish to. Slowly, Wei Wuxian is beginning to believe him. He's like Lan Wangji in that way, never saying what he doesn't mean. The thought sends a lancing ache through him and he sets it aside.]
I was—am—an inventor. I like to fiddle with things. It's not always intentional, I get ideas in my head and I want to know how things work. Mostly, I come up with new talismans and arrays. I also created a weapon.
The cultivation world was happy enough with my inventions during the war. They encouraged its use. [His lips twist into a mirthless smile.] After the war, they turned on me, demanding I hand over my weapon because such a powerful artefact shouldn't be in the hands of a single person. [He laughs.] It was as thinly veiled a grab for my power as it sounds.
They weren't wrong about that weapon though. It was too dangerous for anyone, but I don't fool myself into believing that they wanted it to keep others safe. The leader of the cultivation world was the one who wanted it the most. He was a cowardly power-hungry man, angry that I wasn't under his control.
[He flicks his gaze to the side, irritated at the memory of him.] I destroyed it before I died. But the rest of my inventions were left behind in a cave. They weren't...I never intended them for use. In the end, I was barely sleeping, wasn't eating. My mind was...I wrote whatever came to it, good or bad.
I created a foolish array in one of my sleepless fits. It allowed a person who was angry enough and determined enough to restore someone dead back to life and have that person avenge them at the cost of their own immortal soul. [He stops and stares into his tea cup, something pained slipping into his expression.]
I barely remember making it, I was half out of my mind and exhausted all the time. I made so many things back then. I don't remember what I was thinking. Maybe it was some stupid wish fulfilment or....I don't know. [He grows quiet again. The story isn't finished yet, but he needs a moment to gather the rest of it.]
（ he listens, because that is what is needed from him in this moment. little of what is spoken bears replying — he recognizes the story as catharsis, poison drawn from a wound.
if he created the array shortly before he died, and came to the ximilia at the point that followed his death, then it is doubtful he has spoken about the matter before to anyone — and he clearly does not wish to burden gwen with the telling.
wei wuxian breaks off, falls briefly silent and itachi takes that as an opportunity to refill the man's cup. ）
It was used for this purpose, then?
（ he is nearly certain. what else would have shaken him so badly, but to learn that from lan xichen? ）
[He inclines his head in a slight nod when Itachi refills his tea and then sighs.
After another pause, he nods and continues.]
After I died, they raided the cave I was staying in. Zewu-jun says they divided up everything between the sects. The Jin sect—[the way he practically spits the name out makes it obvious how he feels about them]—the man I mentioned, the one who'd been after my power, was given access to everything I ever designed.
I didn't ask Zewu-jun who used the array, but someone did. [His hands tighten around the tea and when he raises his eyes to meet Itachi's again, there's guilt there, but there's also fury.]
They said I was an abomination. That my works needed to be destroyed. They said they were after justice and righteousness. [His voice trembles and he scoffs.]
I knew they were power hungry hypocrites, that's not new, I just didn't think—I didn't think that even after I was gone I would have more blood on my hands because of it.
（ itachi gives him a rather flat look, and he sets his own cup aside. he laces his fingers together, suddenly achingly overaware of the ring on his right hand, the weight and balance of it. the kanji, inlaid with cinnabar into the black chakra receivers, glints in the light. ）
Do you think that the person who invented the knife is responsible for every throat slit ever slit?
（ heavy irony colours the rhetorical question. his voice is not often emotive in this way, which perhaps betrays the depths of his annoyance — less at wei wuxian being upset, and more at the fact he's blaming himself for something wholly beyond his power. truthfully, he is more angry with lan xichen. it would have cost the man nothing not to speak on it. ）
If the array could be made, its creation was inevitable. If not you, then someone else. Do not tell me you are so singularly unique in this that none else but you could have done it — if there are ugly things to be done in the world, someone will do find a means by which to do them. You were just the first, and even in that, there is nothing to say it was not done before you and hidden. Awareness of an impossible thing is the first step towards making it a possible thing.
（ it's perhaps the most words wei wuxian has heard him speak at once, sharp and clear. does he have responsibility? some — but not all.
it is on your hands, blue had told him once. but not only yours.
his gaze is piercing, for all it lacks the vicious red of the sharingan, and he holds wei wuxian's gaze. if it softens, it is only barely perceptible. ）
This is not your fault. I understand your distress, and am sorry for it — but it is not your fault.
[It isn't as simple as Itachi makes it out to be. In all honesty if he hadn't created it, he doesn't think anyone ever would have. People ignored the talisman arts, they wrote them off as useless. Even those who did study them seemed to stick to more conventional creations. In all likelihood, something so awful would never have existed if not for him.
But...but he knows that's not the core of Itachi's words.
It is not your fault.
The words make his insides squirm and he shakes his head. They resonate with a quiet voice inside of him that has been saying the same thing. (It's hard to believe it from himself. Coming from Itachi is different. Itachi would not lie to make him feel better, that isn't who he is.) He takes another drink of tea and then speaks, words quiet.]
What if it was just me. What if I was the only one who could have ever created it. Would you still believe it's not all my fault? [There's an edge to the question that sounds far too much like hope even to himself, but he won't take it back.]
（ there is no hesitation, nothing to betray anything less than absolute surety here. because ultimately, the creation of a thing is not the same as the usage thereof. ）
[His eyes fall closed for a long moment and he chokes down the emotion that threatens to rise within him, setting his tea down on the ground so that he can slide to the floor himself and bury his face in his hands. He isn't crying, his shoulders don't shake and there are no new tears, he just needs a minute.
It isn't absolution, but.
No one has ever said that to him before.
No one has ever said it wasn't his fault. That anything wasn't his fault. And maybe that's because it always was. Madam Yu was right for holding him accountable for the fall of Lotus Pier. (He'd annoyed Wen Chao when he stood up to him to save Mianmian—drawn his attention.) It was his fault that people looked down on Jiang Cheng. His fault Jiang Cheng felt second best in the eyes of Uncle Jiang. His fault Wen Qing and Wen Ning sacrificed themselves. His fault Shijie died. His fault the world hated him. It was always his fault.
But he hadn't wanted this array out. He hadn't given it to anyone at all. He'd destroyed the Yin Tiger Seal so it wouldn't fall into anyone else's hands. The guilt of creating the soul sacrifice summons array weighed on him because it was his creation, but he wasn't the one that put it into anyone's hands.
And maybe part of that does fall on him.
But maybe not all of it is his fault. He lowers his hand and meets Itachi's gaze, and a tired fury burns in his eyes.]
（ there is a moment — weighted, measured — and then he slips from his chair and sits beside him, gently moving the tea out of the way. he stretches one leg out before him, the other is bent at the knee and he rests his wrist on it like a balancing bird. ）
You have a right to be.
（ he is very carefully avoiding any dissection of closely the crux of this conversation cleaves to his own issues. it does not bear thinking about, the situation is not the same. but he understands what it is to be angry at those in power for their blindness, their shortsightedness, their willful cruelty and their moral failings. ）
There is a measure of violation in this. Not only of your trust, but also of the pride you take in innovation.
（ his fingers curl in against his palm. pensive. then — ）
Will the nature of your regret prevent this outcome should it be undone?
I don't know, [he admits quietly, still mulling over the rest of Itachi's words. He speaks of violation and trust as if Wei Wuxian had any right to those things. As if his actions and choices hadn't lost him those rights, but somehow he can't bring himself to dismiss them entirely.
He'd created the Yin Tiger seal for the war, hadn't he? For revenge against the slaughter of his sect and to help the cultivation world put down a tyrant. It had served its purpose and tasted no innocent blood, and if he'd kept it around after, it was only to account for what the war had taken from him. Even his most dangerous weapon had never been meant to acquire power for power's sake.
But the sects that rallied against him and called his creations abominations had taken everything they could find from his theories and writings. Not for war, not for justice, just for power.
It is a violation.]
I never wanted power. [He says quietly, perhaps seemingly out of nowhere.] That was never my purpose. I might have failed spectacularly, but all I ever wanted was to serve the common people and to aid justice.
The gentry was supposed to do that, but they didn't. They cared about status and glory. About "peace-keeping" when all that meant was maintaining the status quo.
[It's a petty thing born of his anger, and one that he'll regret later, but he can't help it when he admits—] Zewu-jun is the leader of the sect that the world believes to be the most righteous. He believed I was all of the things they said I was. He stood with them when they rallied for my death after they killed all of the innocents who were under my protection.
[Zewu-jun is a good man, he knows it. That doesn't make any of those things less true.] He helped them divide my things. He allowed it, and I just don't—he said it was to keep the peace. Can you imagine?
[He sighs and shoves a hand through his hair. He's so tired.]...Zewu-jun isn't power hungry. He really does believe in justice. But he's a coward.
（ such things are never that simple. lan xichen is the head of his clan, and if what he was doing was meant to keep peace, itachi cannot begrudge him that. it does not make his actions right, if they happened as wei wuxian says, it is just that there are greater things to consider than one man's feelings or sense of betrayal. as the eldest son of an ancient and powerful clan, he knows too well what it means to weigh impossible things against one another, and choose what you hope will result in the least harm. ）
Does he believe those things of you still?
（ perhaps it is a strange thing to focus on, of all that is said. but it is the only thing amidst the anguish that may have immediate, lasting impact on his time here, and so it is the thing he first seizes on. ）
I don't know, I have no reason to think he'd change his mind after my death. Zewu-jun was always kind and without my weapons, he knows I'm not the threat I once was so he'd have no reason to worry. [There have been...moments when he could read Zewu-jun's lingering feelings about him, but he was otherwise perfectly polite.]
He's not a threat to me if you're worried about that. On the day I arrived, I asked him to spare my life on the Ximilia so that I might attempt to right some of my wrongs, and he made it clear he had no intentions of harming me.
And it's...[He sighs.] You know I wasn't innocent. The sects were power hungry bastards, but I was dangerous. I don't blame him for the things that befell me. Those things weren't his fault.
Being dangerous is not a sin — what judgement is passed on you for being so is the result of petty jealousies and damaged egos.
（ his tone is placid and calm, there is no outward sign that the words are a polished mirror, reflecting his own experiences as a boy. he has never known a world where he was not feared for the simple truth of his skill, the edges of which he refused to blunt to be more palatable to those who could not match him. like wei wuxian, he had never wanted power. he had simply wanted to protect his home.
he is not prone to bitterness at the course of his life and its inevitable end, which means that the vehemence of how he feels at wei wuxian's situation catches him off guard. anger rises to choke him, he feels it as definitively as a hand around his throat, palm over the trachea, squeezing.
he has to deliberately unfurl his fingers from against the press of his palm, leaving his hand lax against the side of his drawn-up knee. an evenly drawn breath follows, though it hitches just slightly in the ruin of his lungs.
he worries his thumb against the ring on his hand, and then — ）
You are a good person, with good intentions. Intent does not excuse action — and as you say, you are not innocent. But what was done to you was and is wrong. You did not deserve it.
[He lets out a sound like he's been punched, caving in on himself a little that way too. One hand rises to clutch at his chest as if he can physically stop the ache that Itachi's words had provoked in him. Itachi is wrong. Even if Itachi doesn't say things he doesn't mean. Even if he has been reasonable and rational up until now.
The words echo in his head and he shrinks under their sound.
He must have deserved it. Maybe...maybe not all of it. Not the clans' ire when all he wanted was to protect the Dafan Wen. Not Jin Zixun's accusation because he was the most convenient target. But most of it. All of the parts that mattered.
All he's ever done is bring people trouble after all.
He feels fresh tears slip down his cheeks and he groans, bringing up his knees and burying his face in them to keep it hidden. There's nothing to say to that that isn't an argument and he doesn't much feel like trying to speak, so he stays silent and continues to cry silently.]
（ it isn't as though he lacks the knowledge of what to do in situations like this. he was often sasuke's source of comfort — sasuke, who would throw himself around his middle and press his face into his shirt, who'd lamented the growth spurt he had that made him just slightly too awkward to carry.
he thinks of clara, who had put herself into his space and hugged him, the first person to do so in a decade. he had stood stock-still, non-reactive, but warmth had suffused his bones.
he is a distance away from wei wuxian, for all that they are both sitting on the floor, but not so far he cannot lean in, wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug him gently nearer for a hug. as far as embraces go, it's awkward — unpracticed, and he is clearly uncomfortable with the proximity that results, posture stiff and unyielding.
but it is an attempt, and as these things go he knows that can often be enough. ）
[The touch makes him let out that noise again, but he leans into it, allowing his head to tilt onto Itachi's shoulder just a little. He knows how much Itachi prizes his personal space, and that knowledge makes him all the more grateful for the comfort offered. For a long moment he rests there with his eyes closed, and then he raises an arm to wipe at his eyes and reaches out to squeeze Itachi's shoulder in the thanks he can't find the strength to verbalize. Not yet.
He lets his hands slide back to the ground and after another couple of moments lets out a soft sigh.]
You're really...[He trails off and lets out a soft sound reminiscent of a laugh.] You really are a very good friend, Itachi.
（ there is no point in refuting it. if he tried, they would get caught in a cyclic conversation that only ends when one of them is angered. instead, he exhales in the ghost of old amusement, and shakes his head. ）
[He laughs in earnest then, a soft and brittle thing but sincere nonetheless.]
What, and have to share? [He shakes his head.] Not a chance.
[Now that he's got himself mostly under control again, he lets out a tired sigh.] Is it alright if I hang out here for a little while longer? I've already taken up so much of your time and energy, if you want your space back, I'll get out of your hair.
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（ sometimes it feels the beat of his heart follows the rhythm of sasuke's name. from the first moment the held him in the hospital, he had known there was nothing he would not do for him. he had only ever wished to spare him from the cruelties of their world, but in the end he had been the thing to drag him into the muck and the mire. his actions were the undertow that pulled him beneath the dark waters of the shinobi life.
he had been so blind, then. ）
His name is Sasuke.
（ no emotion muddies his tone, or overtakes his inscrutable expression. if not for what wei wuxian already knows of his regret — and even then, barely the footnotes of that sad old story — it would be impossible to discern sasuke has anything to do with his being aboard the ximilia at all. ）
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A soft sound escapes from his throat, pained for the both of them even if Itachi doesn't want it.
I bet you were a good older brother. He doesn't let the words pass his lips even as the memory of Itachi wiping his tears only moments ago springs to mind. They're too alike for it to be so simple. Criminal and terrorist, he'd said. Wei Wuxian thinks he might hurt him if he let those words out. (And there is no question in his mind whether older or younger brother. It is older brothers after all who must look after their siblings.)]
My brother's name is Jiang Cheng. [Then, with some effort—] "Yún kuò yān shēn shù, jiāng chéng shuǐ yù qiū." "Vast clouds and mists entwine the deep forest trees; autumn bathes in the clear river." It's common where I'm from to derive names from poetry. His name means clear river.
[He doesn't know why he's telling Itachi any of this, but it feels nice to share.]
What does Sasuke's name mean?
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（ he sends a quick text message of the two kanji — «佐助» ）
He was named after a great shinobi warrior of our village, Sarutobi Sasuke, whose son would be renowned as Hokage in my time. My parents chose the name to honour him.
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I like his name. It's hopeful. [There's a faint smile on his lips but it dims a moment later, exhaustion showing through.]
If I can succeed in righting my regret, my sister and brother will get to have the lives they should have but it won't undo the choices I made. I hear people here talking about their regrets like it'll make everything okay, but it doesn't feel that way to me.
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For some, it may be enough. But lives and regrets both are complicated — and new difficulties will arise from what of our histories have changed. The orbs possess no altruism — there will be many unforeseen consequences, and I do not believe most to have thought them through.
( footsteps on a mountain are sufficient to start an avalanche. he is aware that telling sasuke and enlisting his assistance against the coup may not be enough. he will be swinging danzō's focus around on his brother that much sooner, and unless he remembers his time here he will be no match for the man himself.
but if he dies, and shisui survives — that would be enough to save sasuke. kotoamatsukami could still be brought into play, and well worth his own life in exchange. )
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There's so much that can go wrong. [And considering his own regret will take him out of the picture, he wouldn't be there to try to stop it. Then again, it's not like any of his choices have ever done anything but hurt others.
Zewu-jun's words rise to the surface of his thoughts and bitterness wells within him again.]
I haven't told you about my crimes. What they were. The things I did. There were many, some more founded than others. Tonight I learned of something new.
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in the interim, he studies wei wuxian dispassionately. then: )
Do you wish to speak on it?
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I was—am—an inventor. I like to fiddle with things. It's not always intentional, I get ideas in my head and I want to know how things work. Mostly, I come up with new talismans and arrays. I also created a weapon.
The cultivation world was happy enough with my inventions during the war. They encouraged its use. [His lips twist into a mirthless smile.] After the war, they turned on me, demanding I hand over my weapon because such a powerful artefact shouldn't be in the hands of a single person. [He laughs.] It was as thinly veiled a grab for my power as it sounds.
They weren't wrong about that weapon though. It was too dangerous for anyone, but I don't fool myself into believing that they wanted it to keep others safe. The leader of the cultivation world was the one who wanted it the most. He was a cowardly power-hungry man, angry that I wasn't under his control.
[He flicks his gaze to the side, irritated at the memory of him.] I destroyed it before I died. But the rest of my inventions were left behind in a cave. They weren't...I never intended them for use. In the end, I was barely sleeping, wasn't eating. My mind was...I wrote whatever came to it, good or bad.
I created a foolish array in one of my sleepless fits. It allowed a person who was angry enough and determined enough to restore someone dead back to life and have that person avenge them at the cost of their own immortal soul. [He stops and stares into his tea cup, something pained slipping into his expression.]
I barely remember making it, I was half out of my mind and exhausted all the time. I made so many things back then. I don't remember what I was thinking. Maybe it was some stupid wish fulfilment or....I don't know. [He grows quiet again. The story isn't finished yet, but he needs a moment to gather the rest of it.]
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if he created the array shortly before he died, and came to the ximilia at the point that followed his death, then it is doubtful he has spoken about the matter before to anyone — and he clearly does not wish to burden gwen with the telling.
wei wuxian breaks off, falls briefly silent and itachi takes that as an opportunity to refill the man's cup. ）
It was used for this purpose, then?
（ he is nearly certain. what else would have shaken him so badly, but to learn that from lan xichen? ）
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After another pause, he nods and continues.]
After I died, they raided the cave I was staying in. Zewu-jun says they divided up everything between the sects. The Jin sect—[the way he practically spits the name out makes it obvious how he feels about them]—the man I mentioned, the one who'd been after my power, was given access to everything I ever designed.
I didn't ask Zewu-jun who used the array, but someone did. [His hands tighten around the tea and when he raises his eyes to meet Itachi's again, there's guilt there, but there's also fury.]
They said I was an abomination. That my works needed to be destroyed. They said they were after justice and righteousness. [His voice trembles and he scoffs.]
I knew they were power hungry hypocrites, that's not new, I just didn't think—I didn't think that even after I was gone I would have more blood on my hands because of it.
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Do you think that the person who invented the knife is responsible for every throat slit ever slit?
（ heavy irony colours the rhetorical question. his voice is not often emotive in this way, which perhaps betrays the depths of his annoyance — less at wei wuxian being upset, and more at the fact he's blaming himself for something wholly beyond his power. truthfully, he is more angry with lan xichen. it would have cost the man nothing not to speak on it. ）
If the array could be made, its creation was inevitable. If not you, then someone else. Do not tell me you are so singularly unique in this that none else but you could have done it — if there are ugly things to be done in the world, someone will do find a means by which to do them. You were just the first, and even in that, there is nothing to say it was not done before you and hidden. Awareness of an impossible thing is the first step towards making it a possible thing.
（ it's perhaps the most words wei wuxian has heard him speak at once, sharp and clear. does he have responsibility? some — but not all.
it is on your hands, blue had told him once. but not only yours.
his gaze is piercing, for all it lacks the vicious red of the sharingan, and he holds wei wuxian's gaze. if it softens, it is only barely perceptible. ）
This is not your fault. I understand your distress, and am sorry for it — but it is not your fault.
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But...but he knows that's not the core of Itachi's words.
It is not your fault.
The words make his insides squirm and he shakes his head. They resonate with a quiet voice inside of him that has been saying the same thing. (It's hard to believe it from himself. Coming from Itachi is different. Itachi would not lie to make him feel better, that isn't who he is.) He takes another drink of tea and then speaks, words quiet.]
What if it was just me. What if I was the only one who could have ever created it. Would you still believe it's not all my fault? [There's an edge to the question that sounds far too much like hope even to himself, but he won't take it back.]
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（ there is no hesitation, nothing to betray anything less than absolute surety here. because ultimately, the creation of a thing is not the same as the usage thereof. ）
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It isn't absolution, but.
No one has ever said that to him before.
No one has ever said it wasn't his fault. That anything wasn't his fault. And maybe that's because it always was. Madam Yu was right for holding him accountable for the fall of Lotus Pier. (He'd annoyed Wen Chao when he stood up to him to save Mianmian—drawn his attention.) It was his fault that people looked down on Jiang Cheng. His fault Jiang Cheng felt second best in the eyes of Uncle Jiang. His fault Wen Qing and Wen Ning sacrificed themselves. His fault Shijie died. His fault the world hated him. It was always his fault.
But he hadn't wanted this array out. He hadn't given it to anyone at all. He'd destroyed the Yin Tiger Seal so it wouldn't fall into anyone else's hands. The guilt of creating the soul sacrifice summons array weighed on him because it was his creation, but he wasn't the one that put it into anyone's hands.
And maybe part of that does fall on him.
But maybe not all of it is his fault. He lowers his hand and meets Itachi's gaze, and a tired fury burns in his eyes.]
Itachi. I'm so angry at the great sects for this.
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You have a right to be.
（ he is very carefully avoiding any dissection of closely the crux of this conversation cleaves to his own issues. it does not bear thinking about, the situation is not the same. but he understands what it is to be angry at those in power for their blindness, their shortsightedness, their willful cruelty and their moral failings. ）
There is a measure of violation in this. Not only of your trust, but also of the pride you take in innovation.
（ his fingers curl in against his palm. pensive. then — ）
Will the nature of your regret prevent this outcome should it be undone?
no subject
He'd created the Yin Tiger seal for the war, hadn't he? For revenge against the slaughter of his sect and to help the cultivation world put down a tyrant. It had served its purpose and tasted no innocent blood, and if he'd kept it around after, it was only to account for what the war had taken from him. Even his most dangerous weapon had never been meant to acquire power for power's sake.
But the sects that rallied against him and called his creations abominations had taken everything they could find from his theories and writings. Not for war, not for justice, just for power.
It is a violation.]
I never wanted power. [He says quietly, perhaps seemingly out of nowhere.] That was never my purpose. I might have failed spectacularly, but all I ever wanted was to serve the common people and to aid justice.
The gentry was supposed to do that, but they didn't. They cared about status and glory. About "peace-keeping" when all that meant was maintaining the status quo.
[It's a petty thing born of his anger, and one that he'll regret later, but he can't help it when he admits—] Zewu-jun is the leader of the sect that the world believes to be the most righteous. He believed I was all of the things they said I was. He stood with them when they rallied for my death after they killed all of the innocents who were under my protection.
[Zewu-jun is a good man, he knows it. That doesn't make any of those things less true.] He helped them divide my things. He allowed it, and I just don't—he said it was to keep the peace. Can you imagine?
[He sighs and shoves a hand through his hair. He's so tired.]...Zewu-jun isn't power hungry. He really does believe in justice. But he's a coward.
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Does he believe those things of you still?
（ perhaps it is a strange thing to focus on, of all that is said. but it is the only thing amidst the anguish that may have immediate, lasting impact on his time here, and so it is the thing he first seizes on. ）
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He's not a threat to me if you're worried about that. On the day I arrived, I asked him to spare my life on the Ximilia so that I might attempt to right some of my wrongs, and he made it clear he had no intentions of harming me.
And it's...[He sighs.] You know I wasn't innocent. The sects were power hungry bastards, but I was dangerous. I don't blame him for the things that befell me. Those things weren't his fault.
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（ his tone is placid and calm, there is no outward sign that the words are a polished mirror, reflecting his own experiences as a boy. he has never known a world where he was not feared for the simple truth of his skill, the edges of which he refused to blunt to be more palatable to those who could not match him. like wei wuxian, he had never wanted power. he had simply wanted to protect his home.
he is not prone to bitterness at the course of his life and its inevitable end, which means that the vehemence of how he feels at wei wuxian's situation catches him off guard. anger rises to choke him, he feels it as definitively as a hand around his throat, palm over the trachea, squeezing.
he has to deliberately unfurl his fingers from against the press of his palm, leaving his hand lax against the side of his drawn-up knee. an evenly drawn breath follows, though it hitches just slightly in the ruin of his lungs.
he worries his thumb against the ring on his hand, and then — ）
You are a good person, with good intentions. Intent does not excuse action — and as you say, you are not innocent. But what was done to you was and is wrong. You did not deserve it.
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The words echo in his head and he shrinks under their sound.
He must have deserved it. Maybe...maybe not all of it. Not the clans' ire when all he wanted was to protect the Dafan Wen. Not Jin Zixun's accusation because he was the most convenient target. But most of it. All of the parts that mattered.
All he's ever done is bring people trouble after all.
He feels fresh tears slip down his cheeks and he groans, bringing up his knees and burying his face in them to keep it hidden. There's nothing to say to that that isn't an argument and he doesn't much feel like trying to speak, so he stays silent and continues to cry silently.]
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he thinks of clara, who had put herself into his space and hugged him, the first person to do so in a decade. he had stood stock-still, non-reactive, but warmth had suffused his bones.
he is a distance away from wei wuxian, for all that they are both sitting on the floor, but not so far he cannot lean in, wrap an arm around his shoulders and tug him gently nearer for a hug. as far as embraces go, it's awkward — unpracticed, and he is clearly uncomfortable with the proximity that results, posture stiff and unyielding.
but it is an attempt, and as these things go he knows that can often be enough. ）
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He lets his hands slide back to the ground and after another couple of moments lets out a soft sigh.]
You're really...[He trails off and lets out a soft sound reminiscent of a laugh.] You really are a very good friend, Itachi.
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Don't let the others know.
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What, and have to share? [He shakes his head.] Not a chance.
[Now that he's got himself mostly under control again, he lets out a tired sigh.] Is it alright if I hang out here for a little while longer? I've already taken up so much of your time and energy, if you want your space back, I'll get out of your hair.
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（ though, you know, he might... beg off conversation. #justintrovertthings. ）
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