Ken continued stroking Koromaru's head, only stopping when the dog turned toward Hawke and barked excitedly, obviously in full agreement that he deserved a steak. The boy smiled and shook his head. Sometimes, the shiba inu understood too much for his own good and (unless the mage was carrying around bits of meat in his pockets) would likely be disappointed soon. Still kneeling, he looked at the older man, the light expression gradually disappearing from his face. "It's harder here," he admitted, "I don't know why. But I'm all right."
As if to prove this, he stood and held his spear at his side rather than leaning on it. It all took effort. He was about to say something more when he registered the look on Hawke's face and went silent. It didn't take him long to understand why the man was no longer able to smile. What he described reminded Ken of the people with Apathy Syndrome; those whose psyches had been consumed by a Shadow and were no longer able to think or feel or even care for themselves. Hawke was right. It wasn't living at all. "That sounds awful," he said quietly, not knowing what else to say but the truth.