Author's Note: I've spent the past few weeks pondering the connection between a father and his children, and the importance of his role and influence within the family unit. I, personally, am very close to my father, and often prefer his attention to the attention of my mother. There is something truly spiritual about the presence of a man in the household; he is a covering over the family, a protection. Therefore, I have found myself increasingly fascinated with the psychological and emotional impact a father has within the family establishment.

The following piece is the first in a series of short vignettes focusing on the relationship between Seiji and his father (with the other members of his family, in brief) during Seiji's early years (i.e. childhood). I hope to capture the mischievous and rebellious behavior of Seiji in a realistic manner, and explore the various ways in which he interacts with each respective character.


Disclaimer: Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers is © to Sunrise, Nagoya TV, and Sony Music Entertainment.

"The Pixie's Diary"
Entry 1: The Man With the Magical Touch
By Boggy

Bobbed hair adorned the slim and perfect curves of the small child's tender and exotic face. The black of her hair was contrasted by the ivory pale complexity of her skin, and the strange eye color-violet-that saw the world unwaveringly, only added to the oddities of the child's uniqueness. An array of colorful silk and brilliant patterns decorated the meticulously coordinated ensemble that encircled the girl's impish form. The fine obi sash wrapped about the child's kimono in an elaborate combination of twists and ties forming a spectacular, whispering bow at the child's back. It trailed behind her like fairy dust, while she scurried amongst the house.

The mother of the pretty child-who was by no means unattractive by any stretch of the imagination-busied herself with routine tasks; her eyes periodically glancing towards her daughter. Much of the impish child's strength and power likely derived from the firm hand of this elegant woman, who dedicatedly cared for the dojo while the official head of the household tended to other matters.

Tragically, the pretty child was plagued with illness. Most days, she stayed within the protective walls of the dojo, waiting out her sickly years in solitude and confinement. However, today was one of the child's better days when "Okaasama" allowed her to rummage freely about the house. It was only natural that the child should be restless, so the freedom was to relieve the pent up energy compiled during the long and boring days of staying in bed. The child enjoyed windows, particularly, as she could stare at the sunshine that poured through the glass. And as she stared at that sunlight, the child moved with new energy, as though rejuvenated by the brilliant rays of the sun's warmth.

Truly, she was a child of the light. And anyone who witnessed the secret behind the child's raven hair would think she a child blessed by Amaterasu herself.


Suddenly, the child stopped.

The mother noted this eerie and uncommon habit, as the child stood silently in the kitchen doorway. Wonder and concern passed through the woman's mind, as she stood behind the kitchen table; a hand steadily placed upon the nearest wall's edge. If it were not for the wall's support, the mother would have rushed forth, grabbed the child's shoulders and asked desperately, "What is it, my child? What is it that you see?"

In truth, the child didn't see anything. What she heard was the sound of an approaching visitor, who rattled the bells of the dojo's main gate. Curiously, she made her way to the front door and peered out.

"Wait, child! Don't go outside without me!"

The child disobeyed her mother's orders and went outside anyway. She touched lightly down the front steps and glided across the open yard, stopping just short of the dojo's main gate. She cocked her head to one side, hoping that someone of interest had come to visit.

The mother eventually caught up to the child, aggravated by the child's deliberate disobedience. "I am very displeased with your behavior! You shouldn't run off like that!"

Unfazed, the child pointed towards the door. She laughed knowing that her mother had no time to scold, since someone was awaiting at the front gate. Following her daughter's finger, the mother took quick notice of her guest.

It was her sister and the child's aunt.

She proceeded to the entrance and bowed low (or as low as one could in her position), escorting her older sibling to the front of the house. Conversation ensued.

"My, my! You must be due any day now."

"Hai." The woman placed a steady hand on her swollen stomach. "Besides the child, the loss of this unattractive weight will be my greatest pleasure."

The two women laughed quietly. It was a laughter understood only by two women who, at one point or another, had experienced the unpleasant circumstances of pregnancy.

The child, taking notice of their odd burst of humor, stared quietly at her mother and the unfamiliar visitor with whom she conversed. In turn, the aunt took immediate notice of the child's mirthless stare.

And she shuddered.

The aunt's actions, subtle as they were, set her up for immediate rejection, had she any favor with the child to begin with. Of all age groups, young children are most sensitive to the behavioral patterns of their elders. Because they often lack the comprehension of speech, feelings and movements are necessary to communicate a person's thoughts. In this case, the aunt communicated her immediate disapproval of her sister's daughter.

Unknown to the child, she and her aunt had met once before, just shortly after the child's birth. Naturally, the child has no memory of being born, as no one does. But it can be assumed that should the child have some faint recollection of their initial meeting, she would note a similar reaction from both parties; establishing the cold fact that neither aunt nor child held any sort of fondness for the other.

In an attempt to make peace and uphold maternal composure in the face of her sister, the aunt bent down with the absurd notion of picking the child up. With her coldest glare and a sharp flick of her head, the child backed away from her aunt and ran to an area out of arms reach. Appalled and slightly embarrassed, the woman stood erect, hoping that the firmness with which she stood would help to regain a portion of her lost pride. The mother apologized profusely.

"Forgive me. I should have warned you about my child. She runs away from even her own mother's embrace, and does not take kindly to strangers. Her father is the only one whom she will sometimes approach with affection."

The woman batted the matter away with her hand, although she was visibly irritated.

And in such cases of rejection, blame is inevitably placed.

"Everything is fine. Children are temperamental and inconsistent, and it's foolish to think the child would remember me." The woman's eyes narrowed. "Still, it is only natural she should approach her father; she is of his blood."

As you might have guessed, addressing the origins of the child's blood was not an attempt to give compliment. Rather, the indication of her father's blood was meant to justify the unsatisfactory behavior of the rebellious child.

"Oneesan." Her voice was firm. "My husband is a steadfast man with clear vision. Whatever his faults, that child is the not the product of them!"

The sister bowed low. "My apologies. I said something uncalled for. I should not have spoken so independently."

The mother accepted her sister's apology with a bow in response. However, the young child had listened closely to their conversation, and was not so forgiving.

How much of the conversation did the child actually understand? Could the child, bright as she was, truly grasp the full meaning of the words transferred between her mother and aunt? That is difficult to say; she was but a child of three. But as her father walked through the entrance gate of the dojo, the child saw an opportune time to give her own response to the woman's apology.


He entered the dojo with a small sigh. It had been a difficult day at work, and his eyes closed in memory of the ordeals faced. It seemed like nothing was simple anymore! Nowadays, young kids were roaming the streets and getting into trouble, and causing a lot of problems for their elders. Similarly, his kids would be exploring the streets themselves within a few years...

No!  He would not let his precious offspring mingle with the filth that polluted the peaceful streets of Sendai. They would be sheltered and protected and raised with a supportive hand, as all children should!

...But he could not shelter them too much. After all, it was impossible to protect kids from everything, and they would have to learn how to survive in the real world.

Do all fathers worry this much? Ah well... What relief he felt to be home!

Bringing his head to attention, his eyes caught sight of his wife and sister-in-law awaiting his arrival at the front of their house. Shaking off his fatigue, he greeted his sister-in-law with a deep bow, which she formally returned. For his wife, he placed a gentle hand upon her stomach and frowned.

Why wasn't she resting inside?

Gently, she touched his shoulder, letting him know that all was well. Placing his own hand upon hers, he nodded his response. It was hard for him not to worry about his wife so late in her pregnancy. Any day now, the newest addition to the Date household would be due. Thinking about it only made things worse.

He had been like this with the first child...and the second...and would be inevitably with any child to come.  But he would be strong for his family, nevertheless.

The aunt gave a small laugh, interrupting his determined thoughts. "We were just talking about you."  Her smile sang of unspoken secrets.

He cocked his head to the side, unlocking a childlike innocence in his features. "Oh?"

Before any additional comments could be made, the devilish child had stolen silently across the yard and wedged herself between her aunt and her father. The aunt shot back a bit, startled by the child's sudden appearance. The father almost lost his grip on the jacket he was carrying and nearly fell forward onto the child. The mother cringed, fearing the child was suffering from another mischievous "episode."

The child did nothing, except stare calmly into the eyes of her father.

He did not shudder.

He did not pull back.

He passed no judgment.

Satisfied, she clasped her hands about his knees possessively, her tiny hands tugging at the fabric of his pants. Both the mother and her sister gasped. The father stared down at his child, a bit surprised himself.

Overwhelmed with joy at the child's action, the father's shock quickly melted away. He stared warmly at his child, and outstretched his right hand to her. Thoughtfully, she clasped his gentle hand and took it between each of her own, placing it against her cheek. In response, the father bent down to the child's level, placing his left hand upon the child's other cheek. They looked at one another a moment; the child's hands resting lightly on each of her father's. Happily, the girl laughed up at him, a strange emotion filling her eyes.

...For a moment, and only a moment, time stood still.

The child scurried off to another area of the yard laughing, apparently hit by another wave of energy. The aunt continued her conversations with the child's mother. She once again wrote off the child's behavior as "natural."

The father, standing amongst his wife and sister-in-law, saw only the child.