Comparison

Yuuma is like a cat

Yuuma is like a cat. He's fast, he's agile, and during the rare times he falls, he does so with grace.

Yuuma got hit by a car. Again.

Yet despite the faces of growing horror around him, Yuuma didn't find the incident a big deal. He simply stood up- ignoring the blistering pain in his artificial limbs- and offered an apology with a silly duck face.

Yuuma was fine.

Like a cat, Yuuma is patient. He doesn't waste time, but he understands that the cleanest victories are the ones that you have to work for.

In the Calvarian war Yuuma had tortured many people. Not for information, of course. That would be ineffective and a waste of a captive. This was for a different reason.

Yuuma watched as his enemies shook, terrified of the bloody monster this minor war created. He watched as many choose death over capture.

Yuuma was fine.

He's deadly, and doesn't move without intent. However, there's nothing he enjoys more than playing with his food.

During a spar with Shun, Yuuma felt an old urge take over him. The urge to manipulate, to harm, to break. The urge to make everyone understand that he was worse than any nightmare they could ever experience. Understand why the world needed the good Kuga back so badly. Understand that Yuuma wasn't supposed to be here for a reason.

Yuuma let Shun beat him that round. Yuuma still beat him 6-4, but he excused himself under the mention of homework. Shun smiled and waved, and Yuuma matched his energy.

He stared at the stars a little too hard that night.

But Yuuma was fine.

Cats are stubborn. Once they adapt a habit, chances are they'll never let it go.

Yuma doesn't mind liars. If he did, that would make him a hypocrite.

Osamu never did understand why he squints his eyes so often. Jin, however, did. But Jin never was able to break Yuuma's habit. And Yuuma didn't want him to.

After all, Yuuma was fine.

Like a cat, Yuuma met one person he loved, and refused to leave his side.

Yugo was dead. Because of Yuuma.

Yuuma wanted to leave. But the only way to do that was to let go of his dad for good.

So, Yuuma was fine with the way things were. He had to be.

Did you know?

When a cat is dying, it hides from those it loves. It doesn't ask for help, and it doesn't do anything to make its last few hours special. It just lets its existence fade.

Yuuma never did find a way to bring back his father. And he never did find Replica again.

Yuuma curled into the corner of the away ship's engine room, and listened to it hum.

As he felt the warm blood trickle down his face, he closed his only remaining eye with a smile.

Because Yuuma was fine. And even if he wasn't, it didn't matter anymore.

There is one last thing about a cat that only those who love it know. 

Hiding always leaves a scar on the one who finds it.

The wails of Yuuma's only female teammate woke the ship. 

Well, former teammate.