For a minute, it looks like Yamato is going to play along. He brightens up more, if that's even possible, Souji's laughter filling him up like a breath of much-needed air. The IV is probably a good thing, actually. He'd be halfway to curling up and resting his head in Souji's lap by now without it.

But just as quickly, the light dims, and his face falls. Yamato is superstitious, yes, but at the same time, he's strangely grounded. The fantastical things he believes, he believes as surely as gravity or the color of the noontime sky. Daydream fantasies aren't something he's used to dabbling in.

Still, his reply probably isn't what Souji is expecting.

"I would love that," he says sincerely. "But I'm not allowed to leave this room, except for tests." He doesn't stop there, though. He looks at Souji with imploring eyes, begging as earnestly as a hungry puppy. "When you get better, will you come back and dance for me? Please? I want to watch you dance."

Not if, when. No hesitation, no false hope and cheer. Yamato believes Souji will heal, body and soul, one hundred percent. He believes it just as surely as anything else--like it's a fact, simple and undeniable. Souji will heal, and dance, and maybe even come back to pay him a visit.

It's only the last that he isn't sure of. And that's because it's the one he wants most to be true.