( Because he's human. It's the fact he expected Mikazuki to make because it's the fact Tsurumaru has also come to accept. Humans die. At best, they are blissfully fleeting but at worst, they're twisted and selfish, violent and full of lies. Even the children he regards with genuine warmth and interest will lose that light and goodness.

Another nail right on the head though he's quick to object all the same, )

Life is a nothing without surprises. ( He loves them. When something becomes a coping mechanism for centuries, it becomes a truth with time. But it's true. If he expects the surprises, he can't be unpleasantly surprised. If he embraces tragedy as a surprise, it hurts less. ) If everything is the same, the heart wastes away.

( This is his truth now. )

I don't have to make all of my surprises either. For example... ( His fingers trace the stain on Mikazuki's hand, ) Imagine my surprise the first time I bled like this.

( The thrill he felt seeing that color coming from him and all of the possibilities it painted. Experiencing pain with this new body. Brought down closer to the humans he'd kept away for so long. )

We're swords but when our master gave us these bodies, we became a little more human.

( That die. That can't be repaired. That are fleeting.

And that's scary. Seeing his friends covered in blood, the spirits he thought that would never leave him suddenly a little more mortal... Getting hurt himself, being told he could break, this freedom that comes at a price they can now pay with their own hands... )