Horikawa can't possibly know what is going through Izuminokami's mind now, the depth of his feelings and just how much it hurts him as much as he may want it at the same time. But he doesn't miss the tension in his shoulders nor how stiff and straight he sits with his back to him. It makes sense that not everyone would be having an easy time here, especially not the the gods with their lives away from here, just waiting for them to return.

But as he gathers all of Izuminokami's hair into one mass behind him, he realizes his own hands are unsteady as one of them catches one of the knots in the nest of so many.

"Sorry!" he spits out a bit too quickly, and then again, softly. "Sorry..."

He's not just apologizing for the hair.

Setting the comb as his side, he needs to work with his hands to separate the pieces into more manageable strands. They sink into his hair and even at the very ends, at their worst, it feels like a luxury.

He cuts through the curtain with his palm and worries at the worst of the tangled bunches with careful fingers. It isn't matted yet but it would be, given another day or so. But he can't stop himself from slipping on occasion or tugging sharply as one piece or another suddenly gives way. He apologies for those too though he stops saying so with words.

"How did it get so bad?" It may be an accusation but it's not unkind. More an attempt at small talk than anything. "I'm sure your shinki wouldn't mind, if you asked."