Harpuia hadn't had much time to come to terms with the circumstances that had brought him to his death. Given the chance to repeat his last moments, he was sure he would have made the exact same choice. Even if it meant treason, he'd pursue the justice he believed in. Even if it was someone who he clashed with, he'd give his life to shield a person he believed in. His ideals were the only things he had left to hold onto -- all the rest had crumbled in his hands.
More than anything, he suspected, he just wanted to know that it had all meant something -- that even if the cause he'd fought for had been an illusion, his struggles had still done some good. To no longer be living was not such a crushing thing. Harpuia, after all, came from a society where even high-class custom models like him were considered some degree of expendable. To have lived in vain, though... that was the idea he was struggling with.
It may not have been a very significant remark to X, but hearing him say that he would have done the same in Harpuia's shoes struck deeper than he was willing to say. He wasn't so vain as to think himself the next Mega Man X or the inheritor of X's will, but "What would Master X have done?" was a question that had guided Harpuia's decisions many times in the past. His betrayal was still a shameful, disgraceful thing, but... if that was the same path that X himself would have taken, then Harpuia knew that it hadn't been a waste. Not just him -- Fefnir and Leviathan, wherever they were... they could all hold their heads high.
Harpuia came to an abrupt halt, head bowed, the flashlight's beam dropping all the way down to the ground at his side as his arm fell to his side. He'd always been the type of reploid to show the gravitas that suited a soldier. Sentiment had no place on the battlefield, after all. This, however, wasn't a battlefield; just for a quick moment, he'd let himself slip a little.
"...I think that was something I desperately needed to hear," he told X quietly.
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More than anything, he suspected, he just wanted to know that it had all meant something -- that even if the cause he'd fought for had been an illusion, his struggles had still done some good. To no longer be living was not such a crushing thing. Harpuia, after all, came from a society where even high-class custom models like him were considered some degree of expendable. To have lived in vain, though... that was the idea he was struggling with.
It may not have been a very significant remark to X, but hearing him say that he would have done the same in Harpuia's shoes struck deeper than he was willing to say. He wasn't so vain as to think himself the next Mega Man X or the inheritor of X's will, but "What would Master X have done?" was a question that had guided Harpuia's decisions many times in the past. His betrayal was still a shameful, disgraceful thing, but... if that was the same path that X himself would have taken, then Harpuia knew that it hadn't been a waste. Not just him -- Fefnir and Leviathan, wherever they were... they could all hold their heads high.
Harpuia came to an abrupt halt, head bowed, the flashlight's beam dropping all the way down to the ground at his side as his arm fell to his side. He'd always been the type of reploid to show the gravitas that suited a soldier. Sentiment had no place on the battlefield, after all. This, however, wasn't a battlefield; just for a quick moment, he'd let himself slip a little.
"...I think that was something I desperately needed to hear," he told X quietly.