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Gaston intends to die with dignity. He has no reason to beg for his life, nor any desire to helplessly curse his fate. He is a proud Samurai, and he has always been aware of the possibility of death-
(-though never at the hands of someone he trusted his back to, who helped him grow into a person who actually understood what being a Samurai meant, who he shared terrible food in the Hunters’ bars with, who-)
-and he maintains that dignity until Nanashi looks down at him with a smile and says, “Thank you.”
His composure breaks, and he’s still cursing when Nanashi pierces his chest.
He is aware of two things.
First: he is not dead. Or rather he doesn’t feel dead; his limbs move without difficulty and he’s standing on his own two feet. He never asked Navarre what it was like to be a ghost, but he assumes it felt at least slightly different from life.
(The thought of Navarre finally dissipating into nothing in front of him is one he’d like not to linger on.)
Second: he is not in the Cosmic Egg. This place is much less red and much more like a city - like Tokyo, but lit by a sun with no ceiling, which makes it nowhere Gaston has ever heard of.
If he’s a little brusque when asking passerby where he is and what’s going on, surely it can be forgiven in this situation. They seem used to it, anyway.
Apparently people from other worlds arrive on this island every month or so, for no explainable reason and with no way to return. He learns basic facts: the name of the place, who’s in charge, where he’s expected to live and to make a living. His head is elsewhere, but he can at least remember the most important details.
It takes about an hour to interrogate people until he’s satisfied. Only then does he start to process what’s happened to him. With no real destination, but no reason to stay in any one place, he walks around to get the lay of the land. Here are the shops, here is the residential district, here is the park, here is-
A particular haircut nearly assaults him with its familiarity. Even from behind, he’d recognize that half-shaved head paired with that jumpsuit anywhere.
“You.”
Nanashi turns around. Gaston recognizes that expression, the spark of recognition in his eyes. “Gaston-” His gaze flickers from Gaston’s face to his spear, now pointed towards him. “...Uh?”
“Prepare yourself.” Gaston keeps his voice cold and level. He won’t be reduced to cursing twice.
“What are you-?”
If there’s anything Gaston’s prided himself on, it’s his strength. If he can only land a blow on Nanashi without his demons reflecting it, he can press his advantage from there. Nanashi’s demons are powerful and he himself has terrifying magical attacks, so he should be careful-
But Nanashi doesn’t summon his demons, and he doesn’t lash out with his magic even when he manages to dodge Gaston’s first few strikes. He focuses everything on avoiding Gaston’s spear, and he’s quick enough that he can do it.
Gaston grits his teeth. “Why won’t you summon your demons?” he asks between blows, because he can’t summon anything if Nanashi won’t first. Even against his killer, his sense of honor won’t allow him to gang up on someone, particularly not someone who won’t even fight back.
“Why are you attacking me?” Nanashi asks in return. His eyes are wide and if Gaston didn’t know any better, he’d call them guileless. “I don’t - ugh!” The last strike grazes him, and he grits his teeth as it draws blood.
Blood?
Nanashi doesn’t normally bleed. He isn’t normally human. But now that Gaston’s got a good look at him, he sees that there are no green marks on his face, nor on his hands.
That’s strange enough to get him to stop attacking, for the moment. “...You’re without your demons?”
Nanashi shakes his head. “I still have a few with me. But Dagda’s not here.”
He shouldn’t be terribly surprised. This powers behind this place already revived him from death, so what’s keeping one more ex-human alive?
Next question. “What’s the last thing you remember doing in Tokyo?”
“We defeated Krishna, rescued Flynn, and destroyed the Cosmic Egg,” says Nanashi. “...Then I was wiped out, so I went to bed at home, and woke up here.”
He sounds like he believes what he says. Gaston wants to believe him as well, but-
(-that smile when Nanashi thanked him was not a pleasant smile.)
There’s no other reasonable explanation, and Gaston can’t keep attacking someone who won’t fight back. He lowers his spear. “I see. It seems I was mistaken.”
“Are you okay, Gaston?” Nanashi asks. There’s clear concern written all over his face. “What’s going on?”
Gaston considers telling him, for a moment. Of all people, Nanashi would know what it’s like to be a dead man walking. He’d understand that part.
He’d be horrified to know he’d been the one to kill Gaston, and every one of his allies. Gaston pictures the face that’s now looking at him with worry contorted with guilt, and decides he can keep that fact to himself for the moment.
“Nothing,” he says. “I was merely… concerned you might be an imposter, like with Flynn.”
“Well… alright.” Nanashi’s expression says he doesn’t believe him, but isn’t going to press. “It’s good to see you again.”
“...Likewise.”