The more Robin talked, the more uncomfortable Omi became. For years he had clung to the idea that the training was his choice, becoming Weiss was his choice. And they were his choices because he wanted to help other people. He didn't want his life to be meaningless, and if he could take away the suffering of other people, save them from those that would destroy their lives and happiness for personal gain, then maybe when he finally did make a fatal mistake, he would be able to die knowing his existence hadn't been quite as worthless.
Omi belonged in the shadows. He had known this for years. He had to belong there because he didn't belong anywhere else. Persia could have sent him to an orphanage or a foster home... but what point would that have served? He wasn't wanted. Between the life he had now and the hypothetical one of sitting idle in a foster home with a family that was just trying to be nice by providing a house and meals? Be a service or be a burden: Omi knew he preferred the former.
How then did everything Robin said make so much sense? Why did it hit so hard, and why was it so painful and shocking to hear? He tried to remind himself-- insistently-- that Persia had given him the Kuro mission for a reason. It was important to be able to, because--
"He never did anything to hurt me. Mentally or physically."
Because one day, he might be assigned to do the same to Ken, Youji, or Aya.
Or, more to the point, to someone else he called family...
"Persia, you knew my past all along. Why would you assign me to a mission to kill my brothers?"
"I am a Takatori, too. It's hard for me to fight against my own brother."
"Why do you make me do this then?! Why don't you do it yourself?! Why not hunt evildoers as part of Weiss?"
"Me, in Weiss? I'm sorry, but I don't have that kind of strength."
"No, you just don't want to get your hands dirty! You're just selfish!"
The words from that argument rang in his head.
"He wanted me to leave all the work to him, he's never asked me to do anything horrific."
"Persia is always concerned about you. Believe in him."
Omi cringed as Manx's assurance cut through his memory. What should he think about her? She had always been so nice. He bowed his head as his hands lifted to clutch it on both sides. He sucked in a deep breath to hold, willing himself to keep composure through the torrent of trauma, deceit, manipulation and abuse flooding his mind, all surfacing as the ugly truths that they were. Recognizing how horrible some of those things were hadn't been possible before, with no real basis for comparison. With that generous helping of Robin's memories, seeing how different it could have been... and now the ruthless presentation of the facts from the boy himself...
Omi had first responded to the contrast with simple gladness Robin had been found by someone who was good to him, who had provided for him all of the things that Omi to that day quietly ached to have himself. Until then, he had simply accepted it was not meant to be, because it was true, wasn't it? There was nowhere else, no one else to turn to.
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Omi belonged in the shadows. He had known this for years. He had to belong there because he didn't belong anywhere else. Persia could have sent him to an orphanage or a foster home... but what point would that have served? He wasn't wanted. Between the life he had now and the hypothetical one of sitting idle in a foster home with a family that was just trying to be nice by providing a house and meals? Be a service or be a burden: Omi knew he preferred the former.
How then did everything Robin said make so much sense? Why did it hit so hard, and why was it so painful and shocking to hear? He tried to remind himself-- insistently-- that Persia had given him the Kuro mission for a reason. It was important to be able to, because--
"He never did anything to hurt me. Mentally or physically."
Because one day, he might be assigned to do the same to Ken, Youji, or Aya.
Or, more to the point, to someone else he called family...
"Persia, you knew my past all along. Why would you assign me to a mission to kill my brothers?"
"I am a Takatori, too. It's hard for me to fight against my own brother."
"Why do you make me do this then?! Why don't you do it yourself?! Why not hunt evildoers as part of Weiss?"
"Me, in Weiss? I'm sorry, but I don't have that kind of strength."
"No, you just don't want to get your hands dirty! You're just selfish!"
The words from that argument rang in his head.
"He wanted me to leave all the work to him, he's never asked me to do anything horrific."
"Persia is always concerned about you. Believe in him."
Omi cringed as Manx's assurance cut through his memory. What should he think about her? She had always been so nice. He bowed his head as his hands lifted to clutch it on both sides. He sucked in a deep breath to hold, willing himself to keep composure through the torrent of trauma, deceit, manipulation and abuse flooding his mind, all surfacing as the ugly truths that they were. Recognizing how horrible some of those things were hadn't been possible before, with no real basis for comparison. With that generous helping of Robin's memories, seeing how different it could have been... and now the ruthless presentation of the facts from the boy himself...
Omi had first responded to the contrast with simple gladness Robin had been found by someone who was good to him, who had provided for him all of the things that Omi to that day quietly ached to have himself. Until then, he had simply accepted it was not meant to be, because it was true, wasn't it? There was nowhere else, no one else to turn to.
Six years later, it was still true.