Before speaking, Mikazuki watches the subtle lay of the expression Atsushi makes when he talks. So many people hadn't been ready to accept this new life because he supposes they were still grieving for what they'd lost to the Storm. He can't help but think this sort of thing might be rare — he might not know the reason, but there was nothing to grieve for his part, so he can understand at least partially.

Knowing the effect of his gaze, its color and sharpness, he lowers it to look into his teacup, the liquid inside moving faintly from being between his hands.

"What I mean is this... there was no one to tell us that this planet wasn't for us." Mikazuki isn't the kind to mince his words, but it's obvious he's being a little kinder in regards to what his situation was like by framing it this way. "We could drink water from where we found it, we could gather up food. Sleep wherever we wanted, or light fires to keep warm."

Not a single force to tell them those basic necessities weren't free, or afforded to them because of where they stood.

"I never thought about what starting a new life would mean." Not even when he'd made his bet with Darma, when he'd clawed his way out of metallic howling and darkness to take her offering. He looks aside again, to the innocuous stack of books. "But this is already a lot to have."