The night is much colder than it has been.
After the vagabond's unexpected visit and the following excruciating training, Motonari's logical side violently murdered his anger, and he dismissed his troops for four days, much to their relief. Overworked pawns are useless pawns; he might as well go into battle with nothing at all at that point. Despite common knowledge, he does take care of his people. He isn't a bad ruler, just a very, very strict and driven military leader. While victory is for himself first, he doesn't waste what he earns. His people live in peace and his soldiers live well, if they live at all.
It just so happens to be a very bad month. So now, he has given his army four days to recover from his inhumane treatment. That may not be enough, but now he is troubled, now he is in a hurry. The parting words of Maeda Keiji weigh heavily on his mind, for it is nothing but the truth- he does not want to die alone. If he should fall, he wishes for his final words to be immortalized. So tonight, though it is cold, he consults the stars in his lamentation.
He pulls folds of fabric tighter around him to guard against the chill, and his own legs are drawn nearer to guard against himself. Should anyone see him like this, he would destroy them where they stand, for he is terribly vulnerable- but when one is bared to the heavens, there is no armor or lie that can mask them, so he figures he might as well spare himself the effort.
His chosen path is presented to him in stardust now. He has decided to once again eliminate the emotions within his heart. They are weakness, and he cannot reach his goals if he is weak. He has doubts, so he must crush them. He has fears, so he must destroy them. And the root of his discontentment is none other than Chōsokabe Motochika. The pirate has offered him friendship, shown concern. So has the vagabond Maeda Keiji, but the difference there is clear. Keiji is unattractive to Motonari in every way. Keiji does not threaten Motonari's possessions. Keiji will not impede his goals.
But Motochika is everything. He has the will and strength to carry out his own goals. He has the grace and humility to see his men eye to eye, and thus they follow with a loyalty that Motonari could never hope to inspire. He is smart, smart enough that he is on equal terms with Mōri himself, though the Sun-Child would never admit it. But most of all, he is persistent, especially in his attempts at winning Motonari over. This trait is shared between the vagabond and the pirate both, but there is something all the more threatening in the way Motochika looks at him. It's not pity or desperation or hope, not like Keiji. It's something else entirely, but there's no knowing what, exactly.
That's what terrifies Motonari. He wants to know why the pirate looks at him in such a way. And yet, he refuses to try and find out. He wonders now, beneath the eternal twilight skies, if the weakness he so abhors is truly in emotions... or if it lies in denying the truth and honesty of them. When he is angry, he hides it, or kindles it where no one can see. When he is sad, he vanquishes the life of the feeling. When he is happy, there is no smile. He thinks it is weakness to show emotion, so he cuts it out of his soul completely. But denying something so glaringly, painfully a part of him, now that he examines closely, seems to be more of a sign of weakness than anything.
Is he afraid to face these things? Is he afraid that he can't handle his truest feelings being betrayed? He is no stranger to betrayal, after all: he is the crowned emperor of traitorous intent. But does he kill his emotions to prevent the dispair of heartbreak?
Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.
He sighs, resting his forehead on his kneecaps. It is cold, but there is no wind, and he is thankful for that. He whispers his questions and the stars give no answer. He curses this doubt, and after some minutes of that, he simply gives up. He can't contend with these thoughts tonight. Maybe tomorrow will lend clarity to his disturbed mind.