>>5341106Meanwhile, Chaya's approach is far more direct, slamming her sword through the front line's shields and carving a path of destruction through them.
“If we directly help her in the fight, that's like us telling her that we don't think she can do it.” you continue. “And I'm sure you know how it feels when someone doubts your talents.”
“Yeah...” she replies, her mood immediately darkening a bit as she looks down at her hands. “But why? Why did Tatsu wanna go? Didn't he want to stay with us longer?”
“Your grandfather definitely wanted to spend more time with each and every one of us.” you say, remembering how hard she took what happened. “And if he could have stayed longer, he would have.”
“But he COULD have.” your daughter counters, a note of frustration in her voice. “I healed him at least every other day, if not every day. Both me an' Triumph.”
And as she speaks her Stand's name, she summons it. However, having used that blazing power the day before, her Stand is now inert and simply hovering beside her in its locked sphere mode. She looks at it for a moment, then with a sigh banishes her Stand. Which reminds you that Divine Dragon Force is gone, since you used your Wish, and you aren't sure just how long it will be down for as well. If a Stand user were to attack the pair of you right now, the consequences could be disastrous.
“Yes, if he'd kept relying on you to keep his failing body together, he could have clung to life a little longer.” you reply, carefully choosing your words. “But is that how you'd want to live?”
“Huh?” she asks, seemingly shocked by your question. “What do you mean?”
“Imagine if you were in Tatsu's position, for a moment.” you say, remembering the shape your old man was in before he finally passed on. “Every day waking up in pain, your body falling apart, and the only thing keeping you alive is someone else's power. Not anything you do, but someone else keeping you alive. Would you really want to live like that?”
“I..... I never thought about it like that....” Caulifla says after a few moments of silence, looking questioningly down to her hands. Then, more to herself than to you, asks herself, “Could I...?”
“That's not a question I hope you'll ever have to decide.” you tell her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “But in the end, your grandfather decided that he couldn't live like that anymore and wanted to go out like a warrior. But he left us with one final lesson.”
“He did?” she asks, head whipping around curiously. “What was it?”
cont
