Error Always Does Harm [Erchanhardt, Yugiri]

It was quite rare that Erchanhardt ever felt any degree of hesitation or fear about anything. He felt profound confidence in his every action, had done all in his power to avoid allowing himself to look back on his decisions. But in asking Yugiri to meet with him today, Erchanhardt could not help but feel some prodding sense of dread in his heart.

His talk with Rio had made him keenly aware that he simply could not cotninue to leave Yugiri in the dark about his regrets. She had been quite honest with him about her own fialings, had always been quite up front with him when they traveled together, and yet he had never dared to tell her the truth. He could not abide that thought any longer, and so he had naturally decided to speak with her, whenever she had the time.

So, now, he was simply sitting atop one of the buttes of the American midwest, under the shade of a single tree, a pot of tea resting gently on the ground with two cups. The view was quite lovely, but he almost could not think to admire it.

"Ah, right to the point. I ought to commend you for that, you know."

With a bit of a sad smile, Erchanhardt poured two cups of tea now, internally centering himself for the conversation that was to come. It had been far too long in the making.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, before I begin. I have refrained from telling you much of my life for quite some time now, even after all that you have told me of your own. I have promised you as much, and in truth, I have never once forgotten that promise. You asked me if I carred shame, if I carried regret. I certainly do."

Glancing outward at the badlands below, Erchanhardt found it rather difficult to look at Yugiri now. Perhaps that was only right.

"You asked, when I first brought you to my home, if I had no other family. I did, many centuries ago. The Burgstaller were a family of many clans and bloodlines, and in those days the estate was filled with life. I sometimes still feel as if those voices are missing, in truth. But the aims of the Burgstaller were ones which could not be called righteous. To create the perfect human, to become immportal through whatever means necessary. Planned breeding, culling of those lines deemed too weak, stealing away those outsiders who carried in them what was seen as necessary for us. It was all simply deemed acceptable, and I allowed it as head of the family for centuries. It was all that I knew.

"I made grave mistakes for my family and for my country. I assisted in the deaths of countless who did not deserve it, for I never once thought to truly consider my actions. Only after seeing what I had done with my own eyes, after hearing the cries of those who had been wronged by me, did I realize my error."

He chuckled humorlessly then, a cruel laugh at his own failure more than any sort of amusement.

"I still, in the end, did not change for my own sake. But for Adalwolfa, who I never wished to walk the path I had walked, I would do anything. The Burgstaller would not change, no matter how I insisted. I would have certainly been culled, had Ada put into my place. There was nothing else to be done. I removed the Burgstaller from this world with my own hands, the very same hands which had led them for so many centuries. My own flesh and blood. Even now, knowing that they sought nothing which I can abide, I carry with me the weight of that crime. I carry with me the knowledge that, in the end, I killed them all simply so that my daughter would never walk the path I did. They were my blood, but in the end, Ada alone was my family."

Erchanhardt couldn't quite say that he was too terribly surprised by Yugiri's response to what he'd said. He was hardly bothered by her nonchalance; if anything, he found it tremendously reassuring. He found that the whole affair was far too easy to become absorbed in, and to in turn lose sight of himself in.

"I think ultimately, that if I were sent back to that day, I would do every bit the same as I did. I know fully the weight of that sin upon me, and I know it has stained my hands. But the life that Adalwolfa has lived has made this decision worthwhile. And, I think, my own life has been worthwhile in turn."

Taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes for a moment, Erchanhardt contemplated the response Yugiri had given him. It was true, he supposed, that the fear of death and of the future were unavoidable. Still, he could not help but speak once more.

"I think, ultimately, it is not having killed them which weighs on me the most. It is the knowledge that I might have led them down a different path."

He shrugged, then. There was nothing more to be said, he supposed.

"I apologize if it seems as though I've made a rather great deal over what is ultimately an event 500 years behind us. I simply could not abide the knowledge that I had yet failed to tell you the truth."

"Ah, you are certainly not wrong. In the end, those thoughts serve only to distract us from the truths of our life, from those facts of the past which we must strive to accept."

Naturally, Erchanhardt took Yugiri's hand in his as he stood. He did his utmost not to use her for too terribly much leverage-- she was, after all, a good bit smaller than he. Even so, there was some degree of reliance upon her, a show of trust on his behalf.

"Well, I think we could certainly call it as much. But there is something so very clinical about that perception of things, would you not agree? I should like to think of things as less of a transaction, and simply as the trust between friends."

Well, he supposed the two were likely a bit closer than simply 'friends,' weren't they? He had said as much to Rio, after all, that he considered Yugiri to be his family. But it was rather odd to simply say as much in plain words, wasn't it?

"Where will you be traveling next? I have lacked much in the way of destination for a short while now."

"I suppose that is quite true, isn't it? One must always be ready for what might happen to said paper in the hands of another."

Mulling over Yugiri's answer for a moment, Erchanhardt crossed his arms in thought. He knew quite plainly that matters of zanpakuto and other such shinigami techniques were beyond him, for rather obvious reasons. The question, however, was how he might best assist her.

"Well, if you feel confident in facing it, then I can hardly see much reason to dissuade you from pursuing such a course of action. It is my understanding that the zanpakuto is a part of oneself, yes? To what degree would that influence this?"

Honestly, he really had no grasp on these things, but he was making his best attempt for her sake.