Kubo pressed his lips together at the 'perhaps you're too young,' polite even in the face of a magic-twisted man who didn't know him telling him what he expected young men of 14 to know, or, more accurately, not to know -
"for your own sake."
- as if he didn't already know what he would do if the last moment he'd seen his mother was the last moment he would ever see her, as if he didn't already know how heavy the weight of that pain was. How he would stand up beneath it anyway, what he would have to do to go on living. As if this would only be the first time, not even the second, that he'd carried that weight.
As if he hadn't already known before this what it was to be alone in the world, and to have to decide what choices to make when no one lived anymore who could teach him how to be a good human in a world he had only ever half come from.
As if he was still a child at all - and not a very, very young man, grown up overnight and before his time.
He'd taught his grandfather to be human. He could surely help this man remember how to be.
"Yes," he responded, with no hesitance at all. He did pause, considering his next move before asking "What's your name?"
Did the man still have his name? Or was it lost, like his father had lost his? His father had still been full of hope and enthusiasm when he and Mother had found Hanzo in his transformed guise. This man had given up on those things. Easy to do, in a place like this.
"My name is Kubo. We're in the Legion of Superheroes together. Do you remember that?"
no subject
"for your own sake."
- as if he didn't already know what he would do if the last moment he'd seen his mother was the last moment he would ever see her, as if he didn't already know how heavy the weight of that pain was. How he would stand up beneath it anyway, what he would have to do to go on living. As if this would only be the first time, not even the second, that he'd carried that weight.
As if he hadn't already known before this what it was to be alone in the world, and to have to decide what choices to make when no one lived anymore who could teach him how to be a good human in a world he had only ever half come from.
As if he was still a child at all - and not a very, very young man, grown up overnight and before his time.
He'd taught his grandfather to be human. He could surely help this man remember how to be.
"Yes," he responded, with no hesitance at all. He did pause, considering his next move before asking "What's your name?"
Did the man still have his name? Or was it lost, like his father had lost his? His father had still been full of hope and enthusiasm when he and Mother had found Hanzo in his transformed guise. This man had given up on those things. Easy to do, in a place like this.
"My name is Kubo. We're in the Legion of Superheroes together. Do you remember that?"