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You've seen him crush a man's head before, through an armored helmet, and you think maybe that will make you hesitate when he reaches out to touch and be touched, but you couldn't be more eager to reciprocate.
You've seen him covered in blood, when most of it wasn't his own and when some of it was. Eyes wide or expression blank. Thinking over where his path in all this might be leading when he realizes he can't discern the way ahead once it's littered with bodies. And you think that will make you doubt him, but his true and earnest expression is always just as warm.
You've heard him speak, quietly, almost to himself, about the hatred that sears his mind like a branding iron for Jin Kazama and Heihachi Mishima and the torrent of violence they'd dragged the world into, his fists clenched and near shaking. And you've looked into his eyes to see them burn like the sun with anger even in the darkest of nights-- even private and alone feeling like it was a topic that couldn't be breached any further. And you think that will make you question his true intentions, but the fortitude with which he leads speaks volumes higher in your ears.
You've seen him vulnerable, too. Close and quiet moments alone when he trusts you more than he trusts himself and asks if his path is just the same as any other Mishima. If his actions are somehow different. And you tell him he is different. You tell him his way is just. You tell him he doesn't destroy without reason. And when he gets silent and a little colder but still a little closer, you realize how difficult it is to know exactly what he needs.
You can't see the flame that has always surrounded him in the shape of his nigh unwavering resolve. The touch of his hand doesn't register, and his voice seems quiet. He's completely silent after a moment, fading like the edges of his face into the darkness which vignettes your vision. He watches you, and you want so terribly to say something to reassure him, he seems to be waiting for it. Words don't come. Nothing you can conceive in your mind feels like the correct thing to say either way. But you'd been right there next to him so many times. Over blood soaked battlefields and bullet riddled buildings devoid of the life which had once inhabited them. In quiet moments contemplating the space you filled with him in this wild and confusing universe. All for it to lead to this; a single light fading out of existence upon a field of many. You wonder if his purposeful destruction was the arbiter of your end. You wonder if every trail he could have blazed would have lead to this result. You wonder if you could ask him. You wonder if you could change him.