Bunta allows a small sound of amusement for the joke, but his expression doesn't falter.
"Maybe."
He slides his hand into his pocket, curling his hand around the velveted box resting there. It's unexpectedly a little nerve-wracking. Not from fear of her reaction-- from the meaning of what he's about to do.
He can do it, though. No one is better at taking care of people than him. Yukimura was banking on that fact when he asked him to take this on. There was a reason he wanted him to do it and not Sanada or Yanagi or Niou, all of whom were older friends and, generally speaking, better fighters in a solo situation.
no subject
"Maybe."
He slides his hand into his pocket, curling his hand around the velveted box resting there. It's unexpectedly a little nerve-wracking. Not from fear of her reaction-- from the meaning of what he's about to do.
He can do it, though. No one is better at taking care of people than him. Yukimura was banking on that fact when he asked him to take this on. There was a reason he wanted him to do it and not Sanada or Yanagi or Niou, all of whom were older friends and, generally speaking, better fighters in a solo situation.
He can do this.
"Do you remember what I wanted for my ring?"