[The grip on his arm serves to further ground him, but he'll work dutifully at trying to loosen Chizuru's fingers from her hair at the same time. He doesn't want to see her hurt herself - not now, not after he's caused her so much hurt just by existing. The worst part is, he's collected enough of himself to know that the him of the past would be positively delighted for this, in that twisted and distant way he can dredge up. Kaoru's feelings from that time seem muted with the exception of very few - jealously, anger, disgust. Only negativity manifested strongly in him, and that strength is starting to bleed over, even though he's desperately trying to maintain a grip on himself.

He doesn't like seeing her panic, even though the bitter core of his existence is hungry for it. He doesn't want to see her cry, even though that distanced part of his mind watches eagerly. He reaches up, heedless of her grip on his arm, and tries to wipe some of her tears away.

This is not what he had wanted at all.]

Please, don't— Don't ask me something like that... [Is a lifetime of torment enough? How had he allowed himself to become such a disturbing person that Chizuru would even think to ask a question like that? He wants to grind the heel of his palms into his eyes, filled with frustration at himself and at this far-off, detached notion of "producers", but he's too afraid to let her go.]

I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! You deserved so much—! [A brother who could actually protect her, a life free of his haunting shadow, free of the grasp of people who would convince her that murder was her only option.] I couldn't give you anything. I couldn't even protect you!