[The thing about pain is that you think it has a multiplicative power when it's being shared, but in actuality, it divides the more you go through the motions of getting it off your chest. Ryuji doesn't feel like he's being used or that Erika is a monster. These sorts of conversations were ones that he's had before. He couldn't be who he is today without knowing.

Without knowing how Akira's parents abandoned him for doing the right thing. How Ann's entire life was rife with people treating her differently and assuming horrible things about the way she really was. Yusuke's mother being brutally used and neglected when she needed medical help so that a corrupt artist could capitalize on his talent. The way that everyone put such ridiculously high expectations on Makoto so that she could never cope with her own losses. Futaba's cognition of her own mother hating her enough to commit a suicide that never happened. Or Haru's father selling her off life property to the highest bidder. Or his own problems that he shared with all of them- how he had to go to school and hide bruises that his father had left with him to take like a lunch pail or his dreams being crushed when his teacher broke his leg.

She must miss her brother a lot. Ryuji watches his own legs dangling from the ledge.]

I can't imagine how much that must've hurt you. The only thing I know is that.... yeah, it does kinda feel like you against the world when you got only one or two things to hold onto and everything else is just gone to shit.

[Third whack, or whatever she's going through though.]

It ain't anywhere near the same, and I'd be a total dick to say that it were. But if you're thinking that "just us" is now "just me," I wanna tell you that you're not alone. 'Cause you're not. I'd fight on your team in a heartbeat.

[Which comes with the whole... use me if you need to thing. He's a tank. He's good at taking blows.]