[He could try making sense. Hakkai settles his hands on Jeep's wheel, the plastic still warm from Gojyo's hands, and his gaze jerks up and away to the mountains at the rumble of the quake. It doesn't linger, and the ground doesn't sway beneath them, this time.

Eventually, his gaze falls back to Gojyo, searching and dark.]

It's up to you what you want to take responsibility for. It's not...

[His breath slips out, unvoiced, and he has to inhale again before he can try to find words.]

It doesn't have anything to do with who you are. [Is Gojyo saying he's resisted the idea of being Gojyo because he's been resisting whatever guilt he's heaped on that identity? Whatever he thinks he'd done... Hakkai remembers him insisting that it was the scars on his body that made him worthy of blame, months ago. Now it's a memory he'd just gotten back, of a moment when casually telling stories to a little boy had drawn them all into an ambush.

There's always a reason, isn't there?]

I don't care who you think you are. I care who you think I am.