This story isn’t finished yet, but I promised Doc Sama that I’d post what we have and submit it for review at the Seishi Review. She and I are both dying to know what the Seishi think of it. It’s a little story we’ve been working on since…um…sometime this past April or May, written especially for Hotohori-sama for Father’s Day. She gives me the plot ideas, and I write ‘em! I say we make a good team! Erm…even though I’m a little slow sometimes in getting it actually written… ^^;;; *scuffs foot on ground*

And guess what? There’s no romance in it!

*Watches as Tasuki falls over in shock*

*Blinks* Well. That reaction almost makes the entire thing worth it. ^_~

So…anyhoo…here it is! Um…what we have of it anyway. The title is mostly a working title until (if ever) I come up with something better. ^^; Is this okay, Doc Sama? It was the best I could do after 8 hours of updating webpages… *falls over*

Anyhoo…hope you enjoy!

TaiItsukun floated in midair and gazed intently at one of her many mirrors, watching as scenes of the mortal world below played out before her. At the moment, the large mirror was focused on Konan. Or, more specifically, the palace of Konan, where the young Prince Boushin—the future Emperor of Konan—was having his lessons with his imperial teachers. He was, at the moment, practicing some rather difficult sword techniques—ones that his father Hotohori was known to have used in his life—but the boy seemed to be struggling with them. His instructor pleaded with him to give up and try again when he could handle the large, heavy sword better, but among other things, Boushin had inherited his father’s extreme stubbornness, and he refused to quit, even though by then his sword arm was screaming for relief. Both of them were growing frustrated with each other, and when the instructor bellowed out a sudden command, apparently telling Boushin to raise his guard arm a little higher, the boy had finally had enough. He stomped his foot childishly in an uncharacteristic fit of angst—Well, he was only ten years old!—and stalked off with all the pride a future emperor could muster.

TaiItsukun pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly. "Boushin is too impatient for his own good, trying to force himself to learn things he isn’t ready to know yet. Not a proper way for a little prince to behave. The way it’s going, Konan will be in bad shape if that boy doesn't get some help," she muttered to herself. With a surprisingly graceful gesture of her hand, the scene in the mirror rippled and shifted, like water in a pool, and when it settled again, there came into view the picture of a small, quiet pond some distance away from the palace, surrounded on all sides by a ring of cherry trees. Submerged within this pond was a large, flat rock—what had once been called a Healing Stone—which had resided there almost since the dawn of time. It had lain dormant for the past several centuries, however, and no one knew of its existence. The creator, however, knew very well what it could do. "Yes, this will do nicely," she murmured to herself. "What that young prince needs is a father figure to help him, and who better than his own father?" With a simple thought, she reactivated the stone, and it glowed softly with power before becoming its normal dull, red color once more. "Now, within the boundaries of these cherry trees, the Seishi will have living, breathing bodies. Let us see how long it takes for Hotohori to catch on and bring his son here…"

TaiItsukun watched and waited…

His counselors were not happy with him. After witnessing his little spectacle in the training grounds, the two advisors who had so faithfully served their former emperor, and now served Boushin, did their best to lecture the boy about the propriety of being an emperor, even a future one. Throwing temper tantrums and stalking off like an errant child was most certainly not part of the normal etiquette. Boushin knew he deserved a scolding—he had the grace to feel at least a little ashamed of himself—but really, didn’t those two old fogies ever shut up?! He finally managed to escape them by ducking behind the gazebo as they passed by and crawling in a rather un-prince-like manner beneath a hedge to escape their prying eyes. They were so busy pointing out the error of his ways that they never even noticed he was no longer there to get the point. Boushin sighed and looked at the gilded scabbard in his hand. His father had been a great swordsman, one of the best in all of the four empires. Everyone insisted that Boushin was his father's son in every way. But if that was so, he wondered sadly, then why could he not master those sword techniques that his father did? How would he ever grow to be a real man if he could not manage a simple sword?

At times like this, Boushin wished that Hotohori was still alive, so that he could offer advice and encouragement. Perhaps it was odd to miss someone he never even knew, but there were times when it seemed he could almost feel a ghostly presence at his shoulder, looking after him. Was it his father, or his imagination? He wished he could have known the former emperor of Konan. Every time he voiced his thoughts to his mother, however, the empress would take him by the shoulders and turn him to the nearest mirror and whisper that he was in every way like his father, and to truly know him, he had only to know himself. Boushin did not understand what Houki meant with these words, but he smiled and nodded, not wanting to worry her. It hurt him to see the sadness lingering in her eyes, knowing that when she looked upon him she was seeing Hotohori's image and remembering.

"Heika-sama, TaiItsukun wants to see you in the mirror room!" Nuriko chirped as he floated down suddenly in front of Hotohori, nearly scaring the former emperor out of his wits.

"Nuriko!" Hotohori gasped, blinking in surprise before managing to recover himself. He scowled faintly. "Why can you simply not walk into a room like everyone else?" he demanded.

Nuriko grinned. "What’s the fun of being dead if you don’t use the powers that go along with it?" he asked impishly, before floating away again, right up through the ceiling.

Hotohori sighed and shook his head, muttering something about Nyan-Nyans and brainrot as he headed for TaiItsukun’s mirror room. Once there, he saw the creator hovering before the large, round mirror that decorated the center of the room, gazing into it thoughtfully. "Look upon my mirror, Hotohori," TaiItsukun commanded without even turning around.

Of course Hotohori didn’t need to be told twice; gazing into mirrors was his favorite hobby, after all. He looked up into the circle of glass, and immediately noticed a very familiar scene. "Boushin," he whispered, reaching out one ghostly hand to rest gently against the image of his beloved son, his eyes reflecting sadness as the young boy scowled at the sword he held in his small hand. The former emperor could easily ascertain what had happened to put the prince into such a foul mood. No doubt his lessons with the sword hadn’t gone very well…again. "Such a proud boy," Hotohori sighed. "So eager to take his place on the throne. Ah, my son. Do not be so impatient to grow up. Cherish your freedom while you still can. Were I there with you, I would tell you these things in person. But Suzaku has willed it otherwise." And he sighed again.

He’d nearly forgotten that TaiItsukun was there, so absorbed was he in the image of his son. Only when she floated down in front of him, hovering upside-down, to regard him through sharp eyes did he remember her presence…and then he reacted as everyone normally did. With a scream that could rival Nuriko in volume and a crash to the floor, where he lay twitching in shock.

TaiItsukun tactfully ignored the former emperor’s less-than-graceful response to her presence, choosing instead to focus on the boy in the mirror. "Why so sad, Hotohori?" she asked calmly as the Seishi righted himself and carefully brushed the dust from his immaculate clothes. "Do you miss your son so greatly then?"

"Every day," Hotohori replied in a low voice, his saddened gaze once more fixing upon the handsome boy in the mirror. "What I wouldn’t give to be there for him, to advise him and help him to grow into a wise ruler. I never had a father to teach me how to rule, and advisors, no matter how caring…just aren’t the same. Houki is a good mother, but there are some things…" He trailed off, sighing with soft regret.

TaiItsukun regarded the former emperor for a long moment, before suddenly favoring him with a smile that immediately put all his defenses on edge. "Of course you may not have your former life again," she began amiably, "nor would you wish it. Your duties have been served for this lifetime. However, there is no law that says you cannot serve as the boy's advisor should he need one."

Hotohori just blinked at her, not quite understanding what she was getting at. TaiItsukun seemed to enjoy playing these little head games with him and the other Seishi, knowing full well that most could not comprehend the knowledge and will of the gods. Even Chichiri did not always understand the meaning behind TaiItsukun’s words. "But…I’m dead. How could I possibly speak to my son?" he stammered, badly wanting to know, yet almost afraid to ask.

TaiItsukun cackled to herself. "You've never walked your own palace grounds freely, have you?" she asked, her tone becoming rather sly (a fact that worried him greatly). She sighed almost sadly and shook her head. "Most children are curious about where they grow up, yet you’ve never taken the time to explore your own home?" Hotohori sheepishly shook his head. Growing up, he was too busy being an emperor to be a child, even before he took the throne. TaiItsukun smiled again…and was that a wink she had just given him?!? "Well now. Since you no longer appear to hold such a burden on your shoulders, perhaps now is the time to fix that problem, ne?"

Hotohori was still confused. "What does this have to do with my son?" he asked, feeling a little stupid…an emotion he was most unaccustomed to feeling. He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth before TaiItsukun finally came to the end of her rapidly-fraying rope, and gave him a good whack with her custom-made, Nyan-Nyan-sized steel mallet, sending the former emperor to the floor in a flattened heap.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake! What do I look like, an oracle?! Go to the pond surrounded by cherry trees at the far end of your property and figure it out for yourself, you dolt!" the old woman barked. With that, she turned in mid-air and floated away, muttering obscenities under her breath.

Gingerly rubbing his head (which still sported a mallet-sized lump) Hotohori appeared in the gazebo that overlooked the large lake of his property. Sighing softly, he smiled and looked around, taking in the view. He never thought he would have come to miss this place so much. But he supposed that when one had spent their entire lives in these courtyards—no matter how much of a cage they seemed at the time—one couldn’t help but grow attached. It was, after all, home. And TaiItsukun was right, the former emperor quickly realized. He didn’t know half of his property as well as he should have, having never taken the time to explore the grounds. Well, no time like the present to set things straight. He had a pond to find, and a problem to solve.

It really wasn’t that difficult to look, really. Being invisible (not to mention being able to pass right through solid objects without so much as a blink) certainly helped to speed things up. And the wind carried a faint, lingering scent of cherry blossoms. Though he could not feel the wind, he could still smell, and as he knew of no other cherry trees in the vicinity of his palace, aside from the orchard (which was in the other direction, anyway), he decided to head in a straight line toward a distant area that hardly anyone ventured near anymore.

Soon enough, he came upon a small, shaded pond, ringed all around with ancient trees. Their branches provided shade over the water and a cool, inviting place to sit and rest. A weathered, stone bench sat near the pond on the mossy bank; a perfect spot for a secret rendezvous with a lover, perhaps, or simply a place to come and think. Hotohori wished that he’d known of this place when he was still alive. What a perfect hiding spot it would have been to escape his duties for awhile and simply drink in the peace. "Anou…what does this place have to do with Boushin?" he wondered aloud, moving forward to get a better look at the pond and completely ignoring the bench that stood between him and it.

Well…he ignored it, that is, until he tried to pass through the low bench…and suddenly found himself tripping over it, instead. So startled was he at this unexpected event that he released a startled yelp, attempting to keep his balance. But in doing so, he overbalanced himself, and the next thing he knew, he was landing face-down on the moss with his legs sticking up into the air and his robes up over his head, sprawled over the bench in a very ungraceful manner. "WHAT THE @%$?!" he yelled as he struggled to right himself and push his robes back into their proper position at the same time. The only thing he could think about was the fact that TaiItsukun (and most likely the Seishi) were probably watching this entire event and laughing their asses off about it. In which case there would be hell to pay when he got back to that mountain…assuming, of course, that he could show his face there ever again after this little episode…

He finally made it to his feet, attempting to put himself back into some semblance of order despite the grass stains on his once immaculate robes and his disheveled hair and the fact that his dignity by then had shriveled into the size of a walnut.

What he wanted to know was how in the world he had managed to trip over something that, for all sense and purposes, should have simply passed right through him! He was dead, for heaven’s sake! Didn’t the bench know that?! And it had hurt, too. As in…it had…well…hurt! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt real pain (well, from a mortal object, anyway. TaiItsukun’s Holy Mallet of Vengeance didn’t count). Certainly not since he’d died at Nakago’s hands. "What is happening?" he whispered to himself as he stared at the bench in wonder. Something like awe filled his mind as he reached a graceful, shaking hand outward. Ever-so-slowly he reached, holding his breath, until his hand rested against the back of the stone bench.

And Hotohori nearly cried.

There was stone against his skin. Cool, damp, rough stone. His hand rested upon the bench, and no matter how much he willed it to, it refused to pass through the stone surface. His breathing quickened as his eyes widened, fear and awe coloring his voice. "I-I'm solid," he gasped, feeling his newly-reawakened heart quickening in his chest. "I have a body again! This is…a miracle!"

It took him a few minutes, but Hotohori was eventually able to pull himself together, and he began to think the situation over. "As I appear to be alive in this place, it seems I’ll be able to teach Boushin the things my teachers should have taught me when I was a child. To lead the empire, one must learn from it, first. That is a lesson my Seishi brothers have taught me…" Trailing off, Hotohori carefully rose to his feet, grimacing at the ache from his newly-acquired bruises. He’d forgotten how…painful being alive could be sometimes. Still…it was a sensation he’d be more than willing to deal with if it meant having his son back, if even for a short while.

The first thing he needed to do was to find Chichiri. As fortune (or fate?) would have it, the monk was staying for a short while in the palace, having been called there a few days ago by one of the empress’s elderly ladies-in-waiting, who insisted that her pantry was haunted by vengeful spirits. They nearly gave her heart-failure with their hideous wailing, she claimed, and she wanted them out. Of course, when the exorcism was performed, the only thing Chichiri turned out was a pair of disgruntled house-cats that had been shut away in the large, empty cupboard for two nights straight, and who had simply been expressing their extreme distaste at such carelessness. It was a good thing the doors had a wide enough crack between them to allow air to get through, Chichiri told the woman, or else she might’ve discovered her "spirits" the hard way. The servant was quite grateful, of course, to the monk for saving her babies…although the two cats didn’t appear to be in a very forgiving mood. They expressed their "gratitude" quite eloquently by leaving several long scratches on poor Chichiri’s hand when he’d tried to fish the pissed-off hairballs out of the cupboard.

Hotohori smiled to himself in remembrance of that incident (Nuriko would still crack up over it at the least provocation) as he began to head back toward the palace. As soon as he passed the boarder of the trees, he instantly felt the change as his body seemed to melt away, and he was only a spirit once more. He sighed. Ah, well, it was nice while it lasted.

Chichiri, in the meantime, was meditating on the floor of his spacious apartment, the mask laying beside him and his single eye closed in concentration. Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…breathe out…contemplate murdering the bandit who was drinking noisily at the table beside your head and singing a rather raunchy bar song…no…no…that wasn’t right. Breathe in…breathe out…breathe…

"Oi! Chichiri! Are ya gonna sit on yer ass all @%#$ day?!" Tasuki bellowed, whapping the monk on the back of the head with his fist. "I’m bored!"

"Then go find something to do, no da," Chichiri replied through gritted teeth as his hands clenched involuntarily beneath his kesa.

"But what? There ain’t nothing to do in this place!" the bandit pouted, downing another cup of sake.

"You could always rob the treasury, na no da," the monk muttered in irritation, trying to remind himself of exactly why he thought a foul-mouthed, exceedingly loud, and overly hyperactive bandit made a good traveling companion.

"I would appreciate it if you didn’t put ideas like that into his head," came Hotohori’s droll comment as the former emperor suddenly appeared before them. Chichiri merely looked up at the tall man, smiling in greeting, but Tasuki had quite the different reaction.

"YAAAAAHHHHHH! IT’S A @#$% GHOST!" he howled, going chibi and glomping onto Chichiri’s head like a hyperactive monkey.

"Tasuki, it’s only Hotohori, no da," came Chichiri’s muffled reply.

Tasuki blinked owlishly at Hotohori. "Oh," he sniffed, letting go and casually picking up his sake cup. "I knew that."

Chichiri sighed and attempted to calm the vein that was throbbing in his temple. "Greetings, Your Majesty. To what do we owe the honor of this visit, no da? How is everyone, na no da?"

"We’re all doing fine," Hotohori replied with a smile. "As for what I’m doing here, I have something rather interesting to show you…and to tell you. Will you please follow me?"

The monk and the bandit exchanged looks, then got to their feet and followed Hotohori out the door, keeping an eye on his translucent figure as he led them through the palace courtyards and beyond, back to a relatively abandoned area of the grounds. He seemed pleased, and impatient, and Chichiri could only wonder what had excited the normally serene man so much. Then he realized that Hotohori was leading them directly toward what looked like a small pond, surrounded by a grove of trees. As they drew closer, Chichiri felt a hum of power vibrate through him, and when he passed beneath the boarder of trees, the feeling intensified. He sucked in a breath at the sensation; it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck the ground too close to him…only different. "What is this place?" he questioned in an awe-struck tone. "Whatever it is…I sense holy power here."

"I don’t know what it is, but look what it can do," Hotohori replied, stepping from beneath the shadow of a tree toward them.

It took a moment for Chichiri to figure out what was different about his friend. And then he drew in another sharp breath as he realized…Hotohori was alive.

At the same time he came across this realization, Tasuki let out an awe-filled curse and began to circle the emperor warily. "What the @#$% happened to you?" he asked. "Is that real?!" He reached out a hand and gave Hotohori a firm pinch on the arm.

Hotohori yelped and smacked his hand away. "Of course I’m real!" he snapped, glaring at the bandit, who offered a sheepish grin and hid behind Chichiri. "I don’t know what it is…but something about this place makes spirits come alive again! I’m alive! What’s more, people can see me! My son will be able to see me!"

"Whatsa big deal about that?" Tasuki snorted. "I can see ya fine!"

"You are another Seishi. Boushin is not," Hotohori replied. "Don’t you see what this means? I can be there for my son! I can talk to him and raise him and…and be a father to him! I can give him all the things that I never had!" Tears shone in the golden eyes. "But…I need help," he added seriously. "I can’t stay like this; as soon as I leave the grove, I’ll become a spirit once more. I want…I want a house built here, beside the lake. Nothing fancy, just a small hut, suitable for two or three people. I want to bring my son here, and begin training him in the things he needs to know. Of course, someone will have to tell him about me, so he won’t be frightened when he comes. Chichiri, he seems to be attached to you. Will you bring him here?"

"Of course, Heika-sama," Chichiri murmured, still a little in awe of the miracle standing before him. "Whatever I can do to help, I will."

"An’ so will I!" Tasuki put in eagerly. "I can’t wait to show the little rug rat how a real man fights!" He cracked his knuckles and grinned savagely, baring his fangs while Hotohori and Chichiri sweatdropped.

"It must be done right away," Hotohori continued, choosing to ignore the bandit for the time being. "I don’t know how long this miracle will last; Taiitsukun did not give me a time limit, but there is no sense chancing anything. Also…I want as few people to know of this as possible. Not many know of this place, or choose not to visit. Even I never realized it was here while I was alive. But if word should get out about this…"

"I understand. I’ll tell as few as possible about the lake, and for the house I’ll bring in outside carpenters. Houki will have to know, of course…"

"Yes. Yes, she will need to know where her son has gone," Hotohori murmured, not really paying attention. His mind was already on the things he would tell his son. "No doubt the other Seishi will come, as well, when it’s time. Boushin will want to know of the legacy he has come from, and we all have things to teach him. Hopefully, my brothers, you can teach him as well as you have taught me."

Chichiri smiled through his mask, and Tasuki grinned proudly and swaggered a little. "Well, I suggest we get started on our jobs then, no da," the monk exclaimed. "Building a house will take a little time, no da! Don’t worry, Heika, no da! Leave everything in our capable hands!" He started off toward the palace again, grabbing the overly-excited bandit by the scruff of his neck and dragging him along.

Hotohori sighed and smiled, turning back to face the pond and closing his eyes as he offered a prayer of thanks for this second chance at life.

Chichiri dragged Tasuki back toward the palace by his shirt, heedless of the bandit’s protests that he could walk fine on his own, chattering like a squirrel the entire way. "This will be so wonderful for Boushin, no da! The advisors have been isolating him from everyone lately, no da."

"Yeah, the ahos are turnin’ him into a pansy! Always focusin’ on the past an’ not the future…"

Chichiri stopped abruptly, letting him go and staring at him as though he’d suddenly grown another head. "T-Tasuki! You’re showing your brains again, no da!" He paused, then added teasingly, "I do miss them at times, na no da…"

Tasuki turned red. "Of course I got brains, ya aho! I didn’t get ta be the bandit leader by bein’ stupid!" he yelled, then turned and strutted off, the bemused monk following close behind. "Now," the bandit continued conversationally. "How’re we gonna justify buildin’ a place out there? It’s gonna look kinda strange."

"It’s a peaceful place, no da. Hmmm…Well, the advisors and palace courtiers have been trying to get me to put down roots for awhile now, no da. Houki even offered to build a small place for me inside the palace grounds, no da. I think a simple house by a quiet pond is just the place for a weary, wandering monk to rest for awhile, na no da."

"Oi! That’ll work great!" Tasuki replied with a feral grin. "Looks like I ain’t the only one with brains around here, ne?"

"Oi! What’s that supposed to mean, no da?!" Chichiri huffed, taking a swing at the bandit with his staff, who merely dodged with a laugh and bounded ahead. The monk heaved a sigh and shook his head. The things he was forced to put up with, no da.

They reached the palace, and as they passed through the courtyard, Chichiri looked upward toward Boushin’s chambers. He wasn’t surprised to see the boy sitting at his window, gazing out over the walls that bordered the palace and into the city below. The expression on his face could only be described as miserable. "Poor little prince, no da. He’s so unhappy," Chichiri stated sympathetically. "Our boyhoods may have been hard, Tasuki-kun, but I believe that this must be the hardest life of all, na no da."

Tasuki nodded, for once looking serious. "Then let’s get him and Hotohori-sama together, ne?"

They made their way to Boushin’s chambers, and the guards at the door bowed and allowed them through without protest. There were definitely advantages to being the famed Seishi. Once inside, they made their way to the back room, where a small classroom had been set up for Boushin’s lessons. "Oi, kid! They gonna let ya out of the dungeon anytime today?" Tasuki called by way of greeting.

Boushin looked over in surprise, and a small smile graced his lips at the sight of his two "uncles". But the smile quickly turned into a grimace. "I have to finish an assignment on geography," he replied. Then, with a pout, "I don’t know why I have to know all these places…"

Chichiri looked at the papers on the desk. "I’ve been to these places, no da," he said. "This village here…its people are known for their skill in weaving baskets, no da. See the river beside it? They cut the reeds, split and dye them, and after the reeds dry, they weave them into beautiful baskets, no da."

"Chichiri-sama? How do you know so much about things? It seems to take forever for me to learn them, no matter how much I study. My teachers say…they say I need to study more and try harder, if I ever want to be as good an emperor as my father was…" His voice trailed off as a lingering sadness passed across his features, and Chichiri’s hands tightened into fists as he fought back sudden anger against those teachers. To constantly compare the boy to his dead father…it was shameful! Boushin was not Hotohori, no matter how much he looked like him, and everyone learned things differently, at their own pace. To press him into learning hard things he wasn’t ready for was causing more harm than good. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hotohori’s ghostly presence—apparently the man had come with them, after all—nearly vibrating with anger. In the golden eyes, a film of tears gleamed faintly.

Tasuki looked non-too-thrilled with the situation, himself. In fact, he looked like he’d like to go out there and beat those so-called teachers over the head with his tessen. Hard. Chichiri shot the bandit a warning look, and he relaxed…slightly.

"My parents owned a small shop before they died, and we sold those baskets there, no da," Chichiri explained to the boy kindly, trying to ease his mind. "This is the village where I grew up, no da. Also, as a wandering monk, I’ve been all over the place in my travels, no da. If you need help with your geography, I’ll be glad to offer my assistance, no da."

Boushin sighed and traced the route of the river on the map with his finger. "Sometimes I wish I was a normal boy…" he replied wistfully. "Then maybe I could travel to all these places, too. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for me to remember everything if I could see the places I’m supposed to learn about. They’re part of the empire after all, ne?"

Tasuki couldn’t take it anymore. Forcing a grin to his face, he exclaimed, "Oi, kid! We got some good news for ya! We're gonna get ya outta here. How does playin’ in the woods sound to ya, huh?"

Boushin blinked at him, then smiled sadly. "Thank you, but they’d never let me go, Tasuki-sama," he replied. "I still have much work to do."

Tasuki snorted. "Che…Well, better fix that then, ne?" He walked to the door and threw it open…and came face-to-face with one of the Imperial teachers. The man looked at him, startled and more than a little flustered. Before he could ask questions, however, Tasuki grinned savagely at him and stated, quite firmly, "Me’n the monk are takin’ Boushin fer some fresh air. Ya got somethin’ ta say about it, ya can say it to my tessen." He pulled the lethal-looking fan from its holder across his back and held it up under the teacher’s nose.

The poor man gulped, eyeing the tessen warily while the other three residents in the room sweatdropped. "N-no, of course not, Tasuki-sama," he stammered, stepping back a little. "G-go right ahead. F-fresh air will be good for His Highness…"

"Thanks," Tasuki replied with a smirk. "I knew ya’d see it my way. Well? C’mon, kid! No sense hangin’ around here no more! Let’s go take a walk!" He strode out the door, right past the startled guards, and after a moment of stunned silence, Boushin and Chichiri hurried after him.

Chichiri glanced down at the young prince and smiled through his mask. "Well, no da," he said. "It may not have been the most graceful command, but he certainly got the job done, no da!"

Boushin giggled in reply.

Continued…

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So far, that’s all we got written. Hopefully, more will be coming soon. Hope you liked! It’s definitely different from my usual writing, and Doc Sama comes up with great ideas!

Now if we can only come up with a decent title for this thing… ^^;

Stormlight