Mariko breathes out and it sounds more like a hiss, unable to stifle the anger that surges at his bitter tone. He's right to be bitter and sad, he's right to be infuriated but she can't take it. She can practically feel the ocean filling - between what he considers himself and what he considers his Other.

"Stop it, Togusa." she spits in an irritated voice they both know isn't Mariko's.

She winces because her shoulder hurts, and she shakes her head --she has to bury this before it can get out. All his hurt does is remind her of her own and there's no room to stifle this secondhand grief. Hikari wasn't hers, but she has never once forgot that maybe if she could have behaved long enough, settled down long enough that maybe she could have had a little hyper-active ball of energy of her own.

"The truth stares you in the face and you're too busy rolling over and dying for the grief to see it."

It's dangerously close to a low blow, but she sidesteps it for the very real frustration with his habit. Distancing himself from his Other is only going to make this worse.