Talking to Samara was difficult. Not in the sense that the justicar's company was hard to bear, but rather, Kasumi found herself drawing up short for things to say or start whatever semblance of a conversation she could.
What could one talk about with someone whose life was dictated by an ancient moral code? The justicar usually kept to herself in the starboard observatory deck, coming out only when needed or necessary. Why Samara insisted on sitting with her, Kasumi couldn't say. She was a thief, someone of questionable morals—not exactly the perfect conversational partner for someone so hell bent on justice. Or perhaps that was the entire reason why Samara sat with her, to set her on the right path?
They sat opposite each other, a cup of tea in their hands. Kasumi blew on hers, puffs of steam intertwining. The mess hall was empty, eerily quiet. Samara and Kasumi happened to cross paths in the mess hall, both desiring a cup of tea.
"You seem to have something on your mind." Samara's large blue eyes met hers. Daintily, she sipped her tea, pinky extended. The sight made a small smile tug at Kasumi's mouth. Human culture must have been influencing Samara more than she thought.
"It's nothing, really." Kasumi trailed off, staring down at her tea. Then after a beat, "Do you think it is selfish of me to keep the greybox?" Thanks to Shepard's big mouth, it seemed as if everyone knew about it. Of course, Kasumi never failed to tell Shepard how much this annoyed her. She was a person of secrets and preferred it to stay like that. There was a reason she kept some things to hers self; it was safer that way.
"We asari outlive our loved ones—even our own children should unnatural causes claim them—by centuries. We learn to appreciate the time we have with them." Samara was cool and collected as ever. Kasumi wished to have her strength, her resolve, if only to make things easier.
"So I should get rid of it? I know it's what Keiji wanted, but…" She mumbled into her tea, unable to finish the thought. Kasumi's knees are brought to her chest, and she sat awkwardly on the chair.
"You cannot bring yourself to do it. The greybox represents what's left of Keiji, and getting rid of it would be getting rid of him." Samara said. She set her cup down with a faint clack.
"Yeah, you could say that." The tea was hot and bitter and scorched down her throat.
"Perhaps it is time for you to move on?" She suggested gently.
Kasumi couldn't tell if it was the lighting or not, but Samara's expression was one of sympathy. She took another gulp so she drained her cup of tea. The taste was foul and strong and still lingered in her mouth, made her grimace. The tea, Kasumi assumed, must have been an asari brew, for Samara drank hers slowly and appeared to relish the taste.
"I don't think I'm ready. Not yet, anyway." Kasumi shook her head. The notion made her blood freeze, and she shuddered, despite the warm temperature of the mess hall. A weak smile played on Samara's lips, and her eyes wandered past Kasumi's head into a middle space only she could see.
"That is the hardest part. You never will be." She said, voice oddly small and quiet. "Not a day goes by where I am not haunted by Morinth." The justicar's head titled down, both of her thin hands wrapped around the tea cup. "She may have been an Ardat-Yakshi, but she was my daughter all the same. Her death, though necessary, brings me great sadness."
"Then I suppose the first step to get over him will be erasing the greybox." It wasn't a question.
"It is entirely up to you, Ms. Goto." She placed a comforting hand on Kasumi's, the same smile playing on her mouth.
That's what Keiji said. Kasumi thought.
She said nothing in return, and gnawed on her bottom lip.
"I know you will make the right choice." Samara added, removing her hand. With grace, she got to her feet, tea cup held gingerly in one hand. "Good night."
"You too."
Giving a faint, Samara left for the kitchenette, depositing her dish. With heavy feet, Kasumi headed for the elevator and for her room. When she entered, she left the lights off. The only illumination came from a giant, bloated star far off in space, everything bathed in a sickly shade of red. Even in the dim light she could still find it, recognize it by touch alone. The cold metal of the greybox bit into her hands as she clutched it tightly, afraid to let go.
Samara was right. Deleting his memories may not be something she wanted to do, but it was the right thing. Besides, she had to do this, if not for Keiji's sake, then for hers. Kasumi knew she couldn't go on like this. It wasn't… healthy.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she deleted his memories.
She never cried so hard in her life.