[ He's so used to whichever guardian or authoritative figure he's being forwarded to to have the details, incomplete details sure, but the essence intact. It feels strange to attempt to elaborate on it now; and more than that, he was worried if, the coldness of his recounting would again strike someone as unnatural. It did, after all, for his relatives. ]

It's been about ten years. I've lived longer without a family, than with one.

[ He breathes it out: words that may sound harsher, than he intended. ]

But... I don't care. [ Minato shakes his head, looking again to the direction of the floor. ] I barely knew them. It feels like everyone thought I should have been sadder, and it's why I'm the way I am. [ "But I've never felt sorry for myself." ] I'm not an idealist who thinks, "how can I grow from this", or dwells on "what could've been". [ "To think, I got trapped by something so worthless." I'm tired. Leave me alone. ]

[ Did they want him to forever be in mourning, for parents he couldn't recall any special fond memories with? He recalled those faces they made: Disappointment. Uncertainty. Fear, perhaps? Maybe it really wasn't outright disgust for his lack of emotions--but that's what it felt like. It was like passing through a hall of eyes, judging his face, his words, and his actions. He didn't stir or look up, he didn't care for any of it. Eventually, he got better at not paying attention. ]

Maybe it's wrong, but their pity made me feel even more ill. Mortal lives will all end one day... it just comes earlier for some. [ He can appreciate the sentiment of "this is reality", more than any of these cheap sympathies. With the dryness of his tone, Rukia can draw an easy enough conclusion Minato wasn't lying, he felt neither sorrow nor anger for the past events in his life; he really was just exhausted. ]