[ There is a long moment of silence after she drops that bomb of thought. Kohaku knows what she's getting at, but it's hard for him to think about - he has never asked himself the question before, but now that he thinks about it he isn't sure if he himself has ever loved before. For Yuri it must be simpler. He remembers distinctly how her younger self looked, shaken about the death of her sibling, and that must have been the sort of familial love he never quite experienced.
There are people he cares about, Kohaku is ready to admit it to himself now, but 'love' is a word he'd be hesitant to use at all points. Maybe he can imagine what it's like, but then again he really can't. ]

Hmph. Even someone like me wouldn't let go of remembering... people, events, anything. Even people I thought I hated...

[ and people he knows he does not hate at all. Kohaku pauses here, running his hand through his hair and covering his eye in the process - a habit that has long become useless and is still hard to break. ]

What he's trying to do is making machines happy. What's the point in feeling safe if you're not longer you? If there's a way to make us deader then we are, he sure found it. This realm isn't for us to find whatever the hell we need... It's for him to feel like anything better than the piss poor lonely guy he is. Whoever he 'loved' would be probably disgusted and I hope he fucking knows that whenever he wakes up.