We'll talk about that when I return.

[ He squints at Shootie in the way of a parent might their child. But he follows it up with a soft sigh. His decision has been made -- it has been made but he recognizes that he may not return. He's died enough that memories have been taken from his childhood are lost. Those memories were always fuzzy but sometimes he could pull small chunks back. Now it is sand slipping through his fingers. Nothing solid. ]

And you are to make two promises to me. Two promises, understood? [ Mitsuhide does not wait before he starts in. ] First, you will not tell anyone if I do not return. You will not post it. You will not say it to anyone. [ His eyes close. Because the scales must remain balanced. They must remain balanced. ]

Second, you will not stay here in this house alone. You will go spend time with someone. [ The weight of waiting is too much. The weight of waiting alone is worse. His voice sounds different -- not the calm, easy one that he usually speaks with, but one of authority and some harsh bite to it. He won't yield on these points. He can't. ]

You must go. You understand, you must go. And ... and then ... we shall see each other again.