Takatora's confusion is momentary; once Yoshitsugu begins singing it quickly fades. Smiling, he closes his eyes and listens intently, nostalgia warming his chest.
He doesn't feel sleepy, but he does feel content. Long before the Azai there was just him and Yoshitsugu, and his own elation banishes the sorrow from that thought.
He'd meet Yoshitsugu's impossible demands for this any day -- a sentiment which goes unvoiced because Takatora has no wish to interrupt.]
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Takatora's confusion is momentary; once Yoshitsugu begins singing it quickly fades. Smiling, he closes his eyes and listens intently, nostalgia warming his chest.
He doesn't feel sleepy, but he does feel content. Long before the Azai there was just him and Yoshitsugu, and his own elation banishes the sorrow from that thought.
He'd meet Yoshitsugu's impossible demands for this any day -- a sentiment which goes unvoiced because Takatora has no wish to interrupt.]