[He had been ready to actually use his blade against Trunks should the enraged half-saiyan come at him, but it seems that he won't need to. He quietly watches the change of expression, the despair that fills the young man's posture, the bitterness in that laugh. He knows what Trunks is feeling. That despair of failure. That everything you tried to do amounted to nothing in the end. Were Trunks in his world the malevolence born from that rage and despair would have consumed him and transformed him into a daemon.

Good thing they're not in his world.]

It wasn't stupid.

[And it's a good thing that Rokurou does have this experience to know where he needs to nudge Trunks to get out of that pit. Or at least attempt—these things are always difficult and really it's up to Trunks to decide what he should do. But a path can at least been offered, a door opened to try and bring in something.]

And it isn't stupid now. It might be too late for Thras, but he will be reborn again. When he does, he'll be young, weak, vulnerable. Even if the group who killed Thras is found, he's going to need people who he can actually trust to protect him. [He's definitely not mincing his words.]

Trunks. You can grieve all you want, that's fine. [He begins to stand, picking up his sword with the pendant still swaying, the stone flashing in the light.] But don't be so self-absorbed that you forget there's still something you can do.