(Making others feel safe was completely new to Mihawk. He usually did the exact opposite. His eyes cut down briefly when Koby grabs his coat, and he feels the slightest pang of pride because that was a far better gesture to see than one of Koby's more nervous tendencies. Since when had he come to recognize those gestures of anxiety? He quietly huffs, a non-laughing way of laughing.)

True. (He is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to literally anything he does. He falls silent and attentive as Koby begins to speak, and if he holds Koby a bit tighter as the waterworks begin, that's neither here nor there.)

It is not pointless. I often find myself thinking the same, but in the reverse. If I truly spent an entire lifetime only thinking I became the greatest swordman. The idea that that title was a mere fabrication given to me by someone else.

(There was an enormous amount of shame that threatened to engulf him anytime he thought about it too much.)

I believe it is good that you worry about that. We have put in the work to survive in our world and to have that effort written off as some silly little story...

(It felt miserable. He shifts Koby ever so slightly so that he can get their front door open. He brings Koby inside, quietly shutting the door behind him with his foot.)

For what it is worth...(He walks into the living room, then comes to a stop, looking down at Koby, his gaze calm and steady.)

I do not believe it was for no reason - whether the memories are fake or real. You are who you are because of them. We might not know what to believe in here, but I choose to believe in...you.

(Because. It felt like an anchor. He clears his throat and moves toward the couch.)

And us. We mustn't waiver on that. You and I are the only concrete things here. We know that this is real.