Kenshin felt like he was nine-years-old again and Shishou was yelling at him for jumping across the roofs,for accidentally getting his head stuck in a stairway banister,for killing that corrupt mayor. For getting involved in that stupid, stupid war. He pulled at one of the fraying strings of his hoody, running his thumb over the soft split fibers. He was going to have to say something even as his stomach tightened, but the truth-- it all seemed too much to say.

(Coward. You know what he'll do. Turn you away. I won't teach you anything with that look in your eyes.) What did his eyes look like now? He should tell the truth. I've disappointed you, Shishou. I'm a murderer, Shishou. I don't know who I am, Shishou. And that was somehow the worst. He closed his eyes tightly, resting his head on forehead on his knees. No. He couldn't. Even if he was a coward he just--

So...so make an excuse. Not tell the whole truth, just enough of it.

"I...I was just sick, that's all." That wasn't any good. Too tired. To hidden. Even he could feel it. Shishou definitely could. The polite form, then.

He couldn't even pull his mouth into a smile.

"I don't even remember what I said. I'm sorry for bothering you so much." For not succeeding. For not even knowing what to succeed at. He hoped Shishou just grumbled at him and hung up. He hoped Shishou would cut right to the heart and explain to Kenshin just how stupid he was (how diseased. You can't hide the darkness inside of you).

"How are you?" he asked, hoping to at least distract Shishou for a little while until he could figure out what it was he really wanted.