[yeah, it's not a good day for directness. But he goes on, in an undertone]

There is a woman from my world, who is being sent on the draft. She's a young mother. [his mouth tenses on the phrase, but his tone doesn't change] She has a mushi living inside her, like I do. [he looks up now] Only she is the host to this one, and it feeds on her. It lives off of her memories, so that she forgets her own day-to-day life. The names of the thing, people's faces, foods.... [he trails off, before ending decisively]

She's even less of a fighter than I am. But you have strength to spare. Will you look out for her safety, in battle?