Brothers In Arms

DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial work of fiction based on the anime/manga Samurai 7. Original copyright of Samurai 7 belongs to Akira Kurosawa, Shinobu Hashimoto, Hideo Oguni, MICO, GDH, GONZO. Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work.

BROTHERS IN ARMS
By Rory V. Pascual
© Original Version Sept. 9, 1999; Samurai 7 Version July 8, 2006


Part One

"Oh, Otosama! Thank you! Thank you so much!" young Katsushiro exclaimed as he literally snatched the beautifully wrapped box from his father's hands.

"Be careful, Katsushiro!" Honoka admonished her only child, though there was a warm smile on her face. "Your father toiled for many nights just to finish it in time for your birthday!"

Heihachi patted his lovely wife's arm as he gazed fondly at their son. Katsushiro had plopped down on the floor and was eagerly tearing up the wrapper.

"Come now, Honoka!" he said gently. "You know how much it pleases me to see children happy, especially our son."

"Oh, but Heihachi," Honoka argued, her weak voice tinged with expectant regret, "they are such beautiful toys, and you KNOW how Katsushiro is."

"Toys are made to bring joy and laughter to little boys and girls. They would not serve the purpose they were built for if they were just left lying on a shelf."

His wife motioned discreetly to the cupboard in the corner of their modest home. "Like those toys?"

Heihachi looked at the cupboard, a broad grin forming on his handsome face. On the shelves sat many toys, worn by age and use, but still beautiful and charming nonetheless, as toys were created to be.

There were jack-in-the-boxes, puppets and toy clowns. Dolls of all shapes, colors and sizes. On one shelf sat a portly Teddy Bear, with its mismatched button eyes – one black, the other deep blue.

Heihachi remembered his father telling him, that when he was three years old, he had chewed the eye off and swallowed it. His father had insisted that the other black button eye still lay within the rumbling confines of his belly. Though he knew it to be a tall tale, Heihachi kept that special story in his heart.

The toys on the top shelf were what caught his eye; special toys made for him by his grandfather. Occupying the entire area of the shelf was a replica of a Japanese keep, made of wood and paper. Curled on top of the red brick roof was a snarling golden dragon. On the green paper grass ground, happily playing his shamisen was a robot dressed in a peasant's motley garb. A figure of a young lady with lovely raven black hair, wearing a blue silk kimono with cherry blossoms embroidered on its front, stood in elegant poise. However, the mischievous smile on her face and the toe of a dainty slipper peeking out from under her kimono were obvious signs that she was about to launch into a dance. Of course, the toymaker was very much aware that this beautiful geisha has a secret. In truth, she was a master thief, and hidden within the tucks and folds of her kimono was a slim blade.

Heihachi could not help the warm smile that formed on his face, however, when his eyes fell upon the figure in the center. It was a figure of a Samurai. His grandfather Masamune had been meticulous in its detail that it looked like a tiny human.

Handsome of face, the Samurai has long gray brown hair of the finest silk. He wore a white frock uniform with dark brown embellishments, with a thick belt around his waist, and loose trousers that reached down to mid-calf. On top of this ensemble was a flowing white robe, a white sash draped over his shoulder. On his feet were fine leather sandals. Hanging in a scabbard at his left hip was a katana. The katana's pommel was adorned with two silver slivers that hung from a silken cord. The same slivers were made into dangling earrings.

"Why does he have a sword, grandfather, and not a musical instrument like the robot?" Heihachi once asked the elderly toymaker. "Isn't he a farmer?"

"He's a warrior, my boy! An excellent swordsman!" His grandfather then winked, whispering in his ear, "I'm afraid your Noble Samurai has a wee problem. He's tone deaf, so he couldn't play any musical instruments."

When his grandfather had given the toy to him, the Samurai's limbs could be moved to form human-like postures. However, Heihachi had not been a careful child.

He could not recall what he had done exactly, but he remembered the circumstances. Heihachi remembered how his father took him to see a group of traveling performers from a foreign land, and how they had danced the Highland Fling not just to a delighted audience, but also to an awe-struck little boy. Heihachi had wanted his Noble Samurai to dance the Highland Fling too. Besides, he never believed his grandfather's tale that his beloved toy was tone deaf. The Noble Samurai just sings out of tune, but this never stopped him from appreciating fine music. After much vigorous shaking and twisting, Heihachi had bent the toy's right leg back and couldn't return it to its former position. Not even his grandfather could fix it.

Oh, Heihachi had been so heartbroken! He remembered sitting in a corner of his room, clutching his beloved toy close to his chest, wailing, "I'm sorry! Forgive me, my dear friend!" over and over again.

His grandfather had taken the Noble Samurai from him, creating a special support that the toy seemed to stand perfectly balanced on his left leg. Not only that, the old toymaker even made a beautiful keep for the Noble Samurai, as well as the lady thief and the robot farmer to keep him company.

"Your Noble Samurai is a prince, Heihachi!" Masamune had said to him. "A prince among toys! Do not weep, child. He understands you did not mean to harm him. A man of honor, he is, with a heart big enough to love and to forgive, even an impetuous little boy."

"Heihachi? HEIHACHI!" Honoka shook her husband gently.

"Forgive me, love!" he said sheepishly. For awhile there, Heihachi thought he saw his Noble Samurai smile at him, with such fondness in his deep brown eyes. "My mind must have drifted off."

His wife winked at him reassuringly. "I know what you've been thinking of. You always get that dreamy look on your face whenever you pass by the cupboard."

"Come now, Honoka!" Heihachi exclaimed jokingly. "I've seen the look you've been giving my Noble Samurai too. You've been taking better care of him than the rest of the toys, and of me." He sniffled in mock sadness. "I think I'm jealous."

"Heihachi!" Honoka said in surprise. "You know you're the only man for me!" She gazed wistfully at the toy. "It's just that... I don't know. He seems so alive sometimes. When I look at him, I suddenly feel strong." A weak laugh escaped her lips. "Listen to me! I'm babbling like a crazy woman again!"

Heihachi somehow managed to smile, but there was such sorrow in his eyes as he looked at Honoka. His wife was very ill, and it was only a matter of time before she'll be gone from their lives. He found it ironic and poignant that Honoka drew her strength and determination to live from the Noble Samurai, just as the toy has been an inspiration to him when he was growing up.

As he gazed at the mementos of his childhood with pride, Heihachi sighed. "These toys had served their purpose well, that is why they now hold a place of honor in our home. They had given me great happiness when I was a child."

"The Noble Samurai?" queried Honoka, a twinkle in her eye.

"ESPECIALLY the Noble Samurai!" Heihachi turned to his wife. "If you like, Honoka, you could take him with you into our bedroom when you're resting."

"Oh, yes, please!" Honoka said eagerly. "He would make such good company!"

Before Heihachi could reply, their conversation was interrupted by an audible groan.

"Otosama!" Katsushiro exclaimed in dismay. "One of them's ruined."

"What do you mean?" He went towards his troubled son and sat down on the rug beside him.

In answer, Katsushiro faced him, a tin soldier lying in the palms of his hands.

Heihachi took the toy and gave it a scrutinizing glare, as well as its twenty-four other companions still inside the box. He examined it with expert meticulousness, letting his craftsman's eyes roam across the neat brown uniform with its shiny silver buttons, the bandanna that kept his long blond hair in place so that his three propeller-like ponytails would not come undone, and the spit-shined black boots.

"I don't see anything wrong," said Heihachi in finality.

"But, Otosama!" the boy exclaimed, shocked that his father did not see the obvious. "He doesn't have an arm and his legs are fused together! I've never heard of a crippled soldier!"

Heihachi stared at his son, aghast. "Katsushiro, show some respect to a veteran! This 'crippled soldier', as you call him, survived many terrible campaigns. In fact, he lost his legs in a cannon blast, saving his fellow soldiers." He moved the soldier's right arm, fixing his spear's position. With a flick of a tiny button, the sharp blade jutted out, its edge glinting in the lamplight. "Although his left arm and legs are gone, he still has his right arm, and he is an excellent marksman. There is no target that spear of his could not hit. And he jumps just as fast as a regular runner. Son, you're looking at a hero!"

Katsushiro crossed his arms over his chest, a sullen pout on his lips. "Why don't you just admit you left him too long inside the kiln and you ran out of tin?"

The toymaker cocked an eyebrow up. What his son said was true. He DID keep this poor soldier too long inside the kiln when he went to speak to a customer. When he saw what had happened to it, he hoped too recast it again, but he ran out of tin as well. But this fact, he would never admit to his son.

Still, something inside his heart told him that this particular tin soldier was, INDEED, finished, imperfect though it was. Heihachi had even added a grayish beard, giving the soldier a reserved dignity the others did not have. Given his son's reaction to it, Heihachi was rather dismayed. Because of hard times in Kougakyo, the children were losing their innate gift to dream, his son included.

"Whether you choose to believe me or not, I speak true," Heihachi said with pride, handing the toy back to him. "He is a brave toy, this tin soldier with no arm and fused legs. He has proven his worth to his comrades. Give him a chance to prove himself to you."

There was such grudging assent on young Katsushiro's face as he stood the tin soldier on the floor. Supported by a metal frame, to the child, it looked more like a scarecrow than a man of war.

Still, to humor his father, Katsushiro asked, "What's his name?"

"Why don't you think of something?" queried Heihachi in turn.

The boy shrugged, not really wanting to name this particular toy.

Heihachi turned to his wife, but Honoka merely flopped her hands to her sides helplessly. He found himself looking at the Noble Samurai once more, and it suddenly hit him. A perfect name for a deceptively imperfect toy.

"Let's name him after your great grandfather, Katsushiro," said Heihachi, smiling. "His name will be Shichiroji."

~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen, but Shichiroji still stood on the same spot where Katsushiro had left him. Blatantly ignored, the tin soldier could only watch in envious silence as the child played with his comrades for hours and hours.

"Katsushiro, it's time for bed!" Honoka told her son.

Shichiroji saw the boy hasten to put the soldiers back inside the box. He waited expectantly for Katsushiro to hold him in his palms once more. So eager was he for even a brief touch from his young Master. But the child did no such thing. Instead, Katsushiro headed straight for the stairs, leaving him on the floor.

It was kindly Honoka who picked up the soldier. "Katsushiro, you forgot Shichiroji! He needs to rest too!"

"He's on guard duty tonight, Okasama!" called Katsushiro from the top of the stairs. "Leave him there!"

In the corner of his eye, Shichiroji saw his creator, Heihachi the toymaker, emerge from his workroom. He looked questioningly at his wife, to which Honoka answered with a sad shake of her head.

Breathing in deeply, she gazed in sorrow at the poor toy. "I'm so sorry, my friend! Katsushiro's truly a good boy. He didn't mean to be rude. It's just that my son doesn't know you well enough yet. He'll come around. You'll see. But for now, Shichiroji, keep watch over all of us tonight. You and the Noble Samurai."

Saying this, Honoka kissed Shichiroji on the brow and set him down on the floor next to the box. Straightening up, she went to the cupboard and bestowed a similar kiss upon the Samurai.

Then, the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall above the cupboard chimed a discordant melody. Shichiroji was alarmed when he saw Honoka wobble a bit. He wanted to help her, but his legs were useless. Thankfully, her husband ran to her side, giving her support.

"There, there, love!" Heihachi said reassuringly, putting his arm around her waist. "I've got you! Had another dizzy spell?"

"I don't know." Honoka shuddered visibly as she glanced at the cuckoo clock. "That's a horrid thing, Heihachi! I wish you would get rid of it!"

"Honoka, it's just a cuckoo clock!"

"But where's the little cuckoo bird? It never goes out of its little door. All that clock ever does is chime out of tune. It's mocking me, Heihachi. It's mocking me with the time I have so little of."

"Don't say such things!" Heihachi declared, holding her close to him. "You'll be with Katsushiro and I for a long, long time."

"But Heihachi..."

"Come now, dear!" he said softly. "You're just tired from the day's excitement. Let's go to bed!"

Honoka wearily nodded. "I suppose you're right."

Shichiroji watched in sorrow as the couple slowly went up the stairs, bearing the lamp with them.

Silence and darkness filled the house. Shichiroji, however, was not afraid. The mistress of the house gave him an important task. As a soldier, it was his duty to obey. Besides, he did not mind it one bit. Shichiroji liked Honoka and, he had to admit, he was concerned about her. Then, there's the added bonus.

Slowly, Shichiroji lifted his eyes to the top shelf, and to the figure of the Noble Samurai. The tin soldier was awed by the powerful aura emanating from the toy. He was the other Master of this house, just as he was the Master of his keep. And they had something in common too.

// He only has one leg, // Shichiroji observed. From his position, the tin soldier could not see the Samurai's right leg bent behind him. // Both of us cannot move. We could only stay where our Masters leave us. But he is not letting this disability stop him from gaining the love and trust of everyone in this house. If he can do it, so can I! //

So lost was he in his admiration that Shichiroji did not notice that the box's lid was moving. When the cardboard lid fell on his head, the knock brought him back to his senses.

Twisting his torso to the side, spear thrust out, he called out, "Halt! Who goes there?"

"Hush, Shichiroji!" a voice answered him. "It's me!"

"Oh, Gorobei!" Shichiroji breathed in relief. "You scared me half to death!" Seeing his friend climb down from the box, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to carry you back inside, what does it look like I'm doing?" Gorobei said with a huff and puff as he tugged on Shichiroji's stand.

"You will do no such thing! The lady of the house charged me to watch over her home tonight, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Watch over her home or watch over someone else?" another voice queried.

As they looked in the direction of the voice, they saw that it was their commander, Kyuzo. Swiftly, the two toys gave their stern superior officer a snappy salute.

"At ease!" Kyuzo glowered at the tin soldier. "We have rules, Private, in case you've forgotten. Loyalty to our comrades always comes first. We do not interfere in a crisis unless it affects us directly. We DO NOT fraternize with the enemy!"

"But, sir," interrupted Shichiroji, "I don't think they're our enemies. They're toys, just like us!"

"Get your head out of the clouds, Private! They may be toys, but they're not anything like us. Already, one of them has cast a spell on you." He gazed at the cupboard, where already a small celebration has begun. Peasant music was being played on a shamisen. Kyuzo's eyes softened as he turned to the soldier. "Shichiroji, we've been good friends, even before we were remade into this shape. Trust me on this. This is our rule. We stick to our kind. You belong with us!" The commander's eyes focused on the Noble Samurai, narrowing in anger and distrust, and even envy. "Not with them!"

Shichiroji, however, ignored his words. Snapping to attention, he said, "Sir! The mistress ordered me to keep watch. I must obey her command, sir!"

"Don't be stupid, Shichiroji! You said it yourself. We're just toys! Do you think this...this sacrifice...will endear you to that little boy? You saw for yourself how disgusted he is with you!"

Though the words of his commander stung his heart, Shichiroji remained stone-faced. Looking straight ahead, he said firmly, "I'm sorry, but orders are orders, sir!"

Kyuzo fell silent, a fierce glare in his eyes. Seeing that the tin soldier would not obey him, he turned to Gorobei. "Leave him, Private!"

"But, sir..." stuttered Gorobei.

"I said leave him! No one will take his post tonight. Maybe the darkness and the stillness of this house will give him a chance to think where his allegiances should lie."

As Kyuzo stormed off, Gorobei hastily whispered, "Shichiroji, I'll sneak out tonight. I'll take next shift so you can sleep."

Shichiroji accorded his good friend a reassuring smile. "I'll be all right, Gorobei. Now, go on. I don't want you to get into trouble on my account."

Gorobei hesitated for a moment. Then, lifting the fallen box lid onto his shoulders, he climbed back inside the box, closing it. Alone once more, Shichiroji straightened up and returned to his watch.

However, it did not take long before someone else distracted him.

Using the heads of the old jack-in-the-boxes as well as the soft belly of the Teddy Bear for steps, the robot farmer dropped down before him, playing a bawdy tune on his shamisen.

"Watch your foot, Kikuchiyo!" one jack-in-the-box with a loose spring complained.

But the robot farmer ignored him. "Hello!" Kikuchiyo greeted the tin soldier with an exaggerated bow. "Why don't you join us? It's not right for a fine gentleman such as yourself to just stand here and watch. Come! Dance with us!"

"How can he dance?" a haughty doll pointed out. "Can't you see his legs are useless, fool? And he doesn't have an arm?"

"But he's got this!" Kikuchiyo gave the metal stand a mean kick that Shichiroji tilted slightly backward. "I could give you a good twirl with the top string. What do you say? Of course, the spin might knock you off. We don't want the lovely ladies to be mollified by the sight of you crawling on the floor."

Though his heart was being stabbed again and again by those cruel jibes, Shichiroji's face did not reveal his inner turmoil. This only caused the robot farmer to hurl more insults at him.

Suddenly, the lady in the kimono came up behind the robot farmer, a string tied around her waist. Furious, she pinched Kikuchiyo's ear that he cried out in surprise and pain.

"You never cease to embarrass us, Kikuchiyo!" the lady thief said in anger. She bowed gravely to Shichiroji. "I'm sorry about all this! I should have kept this upstart on a leash. I'm taking him with me. He won't be bothering you again."

"Oh, Yukino-chaaaan!" Kikuchiyo cried. "You always spoil the fun!"

"Don't you 'Yukino-chan' me!" The thief yanked on the string, and a red, green and blue top slowly pulled up the two dolls. Yukino gave out a most unladylike snort. "I don't see anything funny about insulting disabled toys. Besides, I don't see you doing that to HIM!" She discreetly motioned to the lone figure on the top shelf.

"He knows I'm only joking! If he didn't, he would have taken my head long before."

From within the folds of her kimono, Yukino pulled out her sword. "Maybe I should take your head myself!"

With the lady and the robot farmer gone, Shichiroji went back to contemplating the far wall, hoping for some peace to soothe his aching heart.

"Are you all right?" a gentle baritone asked from the topmost shelf.

Gazing up, all Shichiroji saw was the Noble Samurai. Yukino and Kikuchiyo were still bickering on the lowest shelf.

// It couldn't be! // He thought nervously. // Why would he want to talk to someone like me? //

Somehow, Shichiroji found the courage to ask in turn, "Are you talking to me?"

"Who else would I be talking to?" the Noble Samurai asked with good cheer. "You're the only one down there!"

"I guess," Shichiroji answered with much apprehension, wondering if this was a prelude to more pain.

"Please don't do that!"

"Do what?" the tin soldier asked, frowning.

"Brood. You look so gloomy." A sigh escaped the Noble Samurai's lips. "There is already so much sorrow in this house. We toys do not have to add to it."

"You mean the mistress, Honoka-sama, don't you? There's something wrong with her."

"Yes."

"Why won't the Master fix her?"

"There is an...illness...inside her that the Master cannot repair."

"I do not believe that! The Master can do anything!"

"Except save his beloved wife. Even the healers have given up. It's all in God's hands, they said." The Noble Samurai smiled at him gently. "That is why we toys must strive to bring happiness to the family. They need us now, more than we need them."

"But what can I do?" Shichiroji exclaimed in frustration. "Look at me! I'm a cripple!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a cripple too. But this hasn't stopped me from trying to make Honoka-sama happy." The Noble Samurai looked straight into Shichiroji's eye. "There is a reason for everything on this Earth."

"Is there a reason why I have no arms and my legs became like this?"

"Yes, just as there is a reason why I became this way. I cannot tell you what it is though. It has something to do with the purpose you will serve in this life. You'll have to discover it for yourself."

"How long will it take for me to find my purpose?"

The Noble Samurai shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't found my purpose either, but I haven't stopped searching. In the meantime, I'm helping Honoka-sama."

"What about me?" Shichiroji started to say. "While I'm still looking, what do I do?"

"As you have probably seen, Honoka-sama draws her strength from me, but I cannot do it alone." The Noble Samurai bowed graciously to the tin soldier. "I need your help, brave soldier. The mistress has taken a liking to you, just as she has with me. Maybe, just maybe, you and I could give her the courage to live."

There was bright hope on Shichiroji's face. "Are you saying we could fix her?"

"The right word is 'heal'," answered the Noble Samurai. "Who can say? I am hoping that we could work some form of miracle."

"If..." Shichiroji hesitated, afraid to ask the next question. "If we're going to be working together, does this mean we're friends?"

Before the Samurai could reply, however, the door of the cuckoo clock burst open and a demon jumped out, its face painted a ghastly white and its eyes glittering with madness and desire.

"Tin soldier," the demon snarled at Shichiroji, "do not wish for something you could never have. The Noble Samurai belongs to me. I gave him my permission to play with the mistress of the house alone, and no one else. After all, she is dying, and it won't be long before he'll be mine completely."

Anger shone in the Noble Samurai's eyes as he glared at the demon. "You do not own me, Ukyo! I would rather break into a thousand pieces than belong to you!"

Ukyo unfurled his bat wings and fluttered down behind the Samurai. The poor toy tried to unsheathe his sword, but the demon tore it from his waist.

To Shichiroji's horror, he saw the demon wrap his arms around the Noble Samurai, his huge, loathsome hands exploring the intimate places on the toy's body.

"UNHAND HIM!" Kikuchiyo shouted, as he and Yukino reached the top shelf. The robot farmer charged at the demon, shamisen raised above his head. Even Yukino had her sword in hand.

Ukyo, however, conjured up a strong wind that sent the lady thief and the robot farmer flying back towards the edge. Before the two toys could fall to their doom, they somehow managed to get a firm grip on the ledge. Kikuchiyo's shamisen landed on the rug with a soft thud at the soldier's feet.

"You dare try my patience? Peasant, thief, maybe I should destroy both of you right now!" the demon roared in fury.

"Go ahead, Ukyo!" the Noble Samurai goaded his captor. "I dare you! Harm a single hair on their heads and I swear you will never have me!"

"Is that so?" Ukyo sneered at the lovely toy in his embrace. "I do not need you to be willing. Maybe I should take you right now."

The Noble Samurai shuddered as the demon planted a slobbering kiss on his cheek.

Unable to control his anger any longer, Shichiroji shifted his grip on his spear and aimed at the demon. There was a loud pop as the silver blade grazed Ukyo's shoulder, creating a deep, smoking cut. The demon hissed in pain and fury, for silver is the metal that is lethal to all evil creatures once it strikes the vital organs. Ukyo was lucky that Shichiroji had simply thrown his spear in warning.

"You shall pay for this, tin soldier!" Ukyo ranted and raved, gripping his wounded shoulder. "I swear I'll make your life a living hell!" At these words, the demon retreated into the safe confines of the cuckoo clock.

"Are you all right?" Shichiroji called out worriedly.

The Noble Samurai was trembling with fear, but somehow he managed to answer. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for saving me."

"The demon. Is he…"

"Yes! He is the reason for all the misery in this house. I won't be surprised if Ukyo was the cause of Honoka-sama's illness."

"And he also desires you."

In his shame, the Samurai could only nod his head in reply.

// To think, earlier, I was wallowing in self-pity, // Shichiroji mused sadly. // Compared to his troubles, my problem is so trivial. //

"Shichiroji, we all have our share of troubles," said the Noble Samurai, as if reading his thoughts. "Our differences lie in the way we carry our problems and try to find a solution for them. There was a time when I felt sorry for myself because of this disability. But, with time, I learned to accept it, and so will you." He gazed at the tin soldier hopefully. "For now, will...will you be my friend?"

Shichiroji could not believe what he just heard. Shyly, he answered, "I think I should be the one asking you that. After all, I'm just a lowly soldier."

"Don't say that you're 'lowly'! I can see what a fine toy you are. And I asked first. Please? My brave tin soldier, would you be my friend?"

Happiness shone on Shichiroji's face. "Yes, I will be your friend...if you will be my friend as well. I am called Shichiroji."

"Thank you, Shichiroji," the Noble Samurai said in joy and relief, " and, yes, I'll be very honored to be your friend. I am Kanbei. Shimada Kanbei."

At that instant, something passed between the two toys, something that linked them together. The change was so subtle that they did not feel anything inside them. But Yukino and Kikuchiyo noticed that there was something different now about their Lord and good friend. Kanbei could not get his eyes off Shichiroji. As for the tin soldier, even he couldn't tear his eyes away from the Noble Samurai.

"Come now, Kanbei!" Yukino took his arm. "It's rather late. We must sleep now."

"But the mistress told me to keep watch," argued Kanbei. "Besides, Shichiroji and I... We still have a lot to talk about."

There was a trace of irritation in Kikuchiyo's voice as he snapped, "For two toys with much to talk about, you're certainly very quiet."

Yukino gave the robot farmer her fiercest glare, silencing him.

"Go on, my friend!" Shichiroji urged him. "I'll keep watch over all of us tonight. You need the rest, after what happened with Ukyo."

Kanbei smiled as the tin soldier pertly saluted him. "I suppose you're right." He picked up the spear and threw it down to his new friend. "I'll see you on the morrow then. Good night, Shichiroji."

"Good night, Kanbei!"

For a moment, Kikuchiyo gave the tin soldier a dubious glance. He then helped Yukino bring the Noble Samurai inside the keep.

When he was finally alone, Shichiroji's eyes fell upon the robot farmer's fallen shamisen. Propping up his spear on the side of the box, he sat down and picked up the shamisen, laying it on his lap. He then plucked a few strings with his right hand. A simple song suddenly came to him, music he had heard long ago in a previous life. It was easy for him to find the notes on the shamisen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Inside the keep, Kanbei heard the shamisen, and he wondered if Kikuchiyo was having a restless night like he. Then, someone began to sing, his voice soft and smooth, but nonetheless filled with passion. He was singing about two men – one a King, the other a lowly warrior – who became good friends, and later, brothers-in-arms.

"Shichiroji…" he whispered his friend's name, touched by the song the tin soldier was singing for him.

As he listened to his new friend sing, Kanbei allowed himself to be lulled into soothing sleep, something he never had since Ukyo entered his life.


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