What feels like a lifetime ago, but was only five months for him, Yondu met a raccoon. A little bastard animal embued by illicit science with the ability to talk, and this pent up old man, having carried the weight of the world in the absence of a like mind, unraveled right in front of him. He's practically done so in front of Tobirama as well.

So as far as Yondu sees it, maybe giving him that hunk of his past, that collection of sins to redistribute the weight of their relationship to something less tilted, has paid off. Tobirama's opening up to him, and he's kept the friend that he so desperately wanted.

As Tobirama talks the sharp-toothed alien gnaws into a piece of the fried blubber. Death out of love is something they've both indulged in a great length. Yondu's was both vengeful and preventative. He wonders if killing Madara's brother might have been the same, along with being a moment of rage.

"I always said that to my boy, to be hard on the inside. But I wasn't bein' honest with how I fought for a long time. I shoulda been."

Nevermind that, though.

"A lotta lessons and memories in one little streak of ink." Dripping down his chin from his mouth, like a trickle of Terran blood from too fierce a bite.