"I'm sorry," Koumyou croaks out again, throat tight enough that he can barely say it, even if he doesn't have the energy to keep sobbing.
He's sorry for dying, for messing up, for not killing Ukoku years and years ago. For failing. For always failing.
And right now, for feeling like he's making this about him, when Devero is the one who'd had to be left behind. Devero's the one who had to watch, this time. The very thing that had broken Koumyou, doing that so many times-- and none of those he'd lost had been as important to him as Devero is.
If this had happened in reverse, Koumyou also wouldn't have made it off that world, he's sure of it. He may have been led away by Buttercup, nudged into helping recover the wounded Yondu down the mountain, but a big part of him would have just been... gone.
And he doesn't know if it would have recovered entirely just because it hadn't turned out to be permanent.
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He's sorry for dying, for messing up, for not killing Ukoku years and years ago. For failing. For always failing.
And right now, for feeling like he's making this about him, when Devero is the one who'd had to be left behind. Devero's the one who had to watch, this time. The very thing that had broken Koumyou, doing that so many times-- and none of those he'd lost had been as important to him as Devero is.
If this had happened in reverse, Koumyou also wouldn't have made it off that world, he's sure of it. He may have been led away by Buttercup, nudged into helping recover the wounded Yondu down the mountain, but a big part of him would have just been... gone.
And he doesn't know if it would have recovered entirely just because it hadn't turned out to be permanent.