Guts' response hurt him. He didn't know what he was anticipating, but this outcome wasn't what he'd been hoping for.
At least the duty would be carried out properly, he had nothing to worry about there.
But why? He'd given Guts more than enough room to answer differently, to maybe consider the weight of the task or even to refuse — now that would've been something. That's not what happened though, instead he went off, blindly following his orders like a good soldier.
He thought he was getting closer to Guts of late, but clearly that wasn't the case.
Maybe Guts didn't have a mind of his own after all. Maybe he would follow Griffith to the end of the world, and never speak out against him.
Which suited him just fine.
Except it didn’t. Something in him had been changed over the time he’d spent with Guts, something fundamental that he’d been wrestling with restlessly for far too long.
He wanted Guts to be more to him. More than just a soldier, a captain or a comrade.
A friend would rule himself by his own code, not one placed upon him by another. A friend would be free thinking, and when the time called for it, a true friend would stand against him if they disagreed.
That seemed completely impossible now, and regardless it was a notion he never should have entertained. Having a friend wasn’t conducive to achieving his dream.
Having a friend, someone he truly cared about, would just get in his way. It wasn’t something he needed.
So why was it something he wanted?