Ladies and gentlemen, the final of the Six Samurai.
Loyal retainer, wandering ronin, and then finally, head of not only his own clan, but the strongest, most renowned group of warriors.
Tapping his fingers against his sword's hilt, Shien scowled to himself, reflecting on that last statement. Could the Legendary Six still count as the strongest with only he and Enishi really prepared to fight at a moment's notice? He'd tried to convince Mizuho to pick up her swords again, but all he had gotten was a brush off, and a matching pair of glares, courtesy of Kizan and Kageki.
He remembered each and every meeting with his men (and woman):
The day he and Kizan left their shared employment, swearing that they'd become great while former friends threw stones and pulled swords.
The day they had the misfortune to be caught in one of Kageki's explosions, the man himself landing at their feet with a grin.
The moment Enishi and Kizan first met and started their rivalry, all over who had knocked into who.
And finally, the day the were all asked to escort a young woman to her wedding, only to realise that she and her husband needed no help. Shinai and Mizuho had been one before they had even joined the six.
New blood was needed in his army, or else the next attack by those shinobi scum would end in more deaths than a single of the Six. Shien's ambition was far from over.
Loyal retainer, wandering ronin, head of the Six, and now Shogun. Yet it meant nothing.
Kizan rarely spoke as they once had, his words now laced with something Shien couldn't quite place.
Kageki was still the same, but he was constantly busy, and didn't have as much time as he once had.
Enishi seemed absorbed by his new role, his words now advice and neutral, with little of his old friend in them.
Mizuho scarcely spoke at all, and when she did, it wasn't to him.
And Shinai of course...
Shien made a sound that might've been called a sigh, were he anyone else. He had succeeded in his ambition, and numerous commanders would be proud to say they had as few casualties as his campaign had yielded. But like many, the first haunted him deeply. Since that day, even with the new recruits, the Six weren't the same.
Age may have played a part. Had Shien been quicker in his goal, it was likely he and his comrades could fight like they once had, without responsibilities and grief to cloud their minds.
As he thought this, Enishi caught sight of him and hurried over, pale as the grave and murmuring something so fast, Shien had to ask him to repeat himself.
"It is Shinai, my Lord. H-He's alive!"