[Ah. He might have expected the consequences of sharing that story, but the wave rises up and swallows, regardless.

[It's worse than drowning, actually - a drowning person can still try to swim, still choke down water in vain. Oda is suspended; roots and thorns and clawed hands and teeth and barbed razor wire weaving through his body, crawling out of open wounds and anchoring themselves to invisible hooks - he cannot move. He could never move.

[He pictures himself tearing out every hook, every line, ripping his body open from every angle until it's clear there's nothing, nothing...

[What filled that terrible void? There is no story left to write. He was never human to begin with.

[So, his fingers curl around his spoon slightly as he lifts more curry into his mouth - and that's all. There's not a flicker in his expression - just a passing breeze that makes him twitch his nose. The only delay is the time it takes to chew.]

It's not, but I've been eating at that curry restaurant for years now. Curry rice has always been my favorite, but Uncle's is the best in Yokohama. I really believe that.

And he's a good man.