Honestly? Being alive was worse. Shinjiro felt Castor simmering in the back of his mind, and was Actively Not Thinking About Him. He didn't want to consider what being alive meant. How he'd be a threat to others. The limited amount of pills in his pocket, and what it could mean if he ran out.

Much like being locked in this carriage - there wasn't a point raging over something he had no control over now. He could ... think about it later. At a time when, if Castor decided he didn't like his train of thought, he wouldn't somehow hurt Gokudera. Gangbanger punk or not, he was just a kid.

And Gokudera was terrified. Shinjiro felt awkward. He's not good at ... comforting people. Reassuring them. He's shit at all of it. He's not supposed to care. Shinjiro swallowed and looked away.

(Remembering, being younger, being alone, truly alone, fending for himself when he barely wanted to live -)

"If you don't find anybody now, you will later," Shinjiro told him, even and firm, like he spoke from experience. His voice was a little gravely from the sincerity. "You assume they're alive and waiting for you to get back. So they'll be expectin you to be at th' top of your game when you get there. Hell. Maybe you'll even bring somethin new to the table."