[This isn't a battlefield, this is Luceti! The same old Luceti! He's standing at the plaza, surrounded by his wounded friends! But they aren't wounded, they are dead. He shoot at them. He made up the selfish excuse that there was a war and shoot at them as if they were his enemies when they wanted to know what was wrong, when they tried to reach him, right? That's what happened... There wasn't a war, there wasn't a draft. He was in Luceti all along... And he shoot at them.
You have done it again...
Yes, he has done it again. He has hurt, no, he has killed his friends. He made up a selfish excuse and picked up a model rifle again. He shot at them without hesitation or regret. He didn't listen to them, he refused them. The friends he had made, the people he had come to care for, he hurt them, he did it himself! There wasn't an enemy, he just made up that excuse!
And there's so much blood. And Rika is still in pain. She's still crying, she's in so much pain. He promised to protect her, to help her and he shot at her!
No, he didn't mean it! She looked like an enemy, like a soldier! He was in the middle of a battlefield! It really looked like a battlefield! It was the syndrome... He snapped, didn't he? He saw those illusions and believed them and... But he was still the one who aimed, the one who shot at them, and there's no one left to care about if it was the syndrome or not.
He did it. One way or another. He shot at them, made up selfish excuses and now tries to do it again, to escape the blame. But there's no one left to blame him, other than himself. There's no one to hear him.]
no subject
You have done it again...
Yes, he has done it again. He has hurt, no, he has killed his friends. He made up a selfish excuse and picked up a model rifle again. He shot at them without hesitation or regret. He didn't listen to them, he refused them. The friends he had made, the people he had come to care for, he hurt them, he did it himself! There wasn't an enemy, he just made up that excuse!
And there's so much blood. And Rika is still in pain. She's still crying, she's in so much pain. He promised to protect her, to help her and he shot at her!
No, he didn't mean it! She looked like an enemy, like a soldier! He was in the middle of a battlefield! It really looked like a battlefield! It was the syndrome... He snapped, didn't he? He saw those illusions and believed them and... But he was still the one who aimed, the one who shot at them, and there's no one left to care about if it was the syndrome or not.
He did it. One way or another. He shot at them, made up selfish excuses and now tries to do it again, to escape the blame. But there's no one left to blame him, other than himself. There's no one to hear him.]