Author's Notes: The names Renichi and Ginjirou are just something I came up with to act as Renkotsu and Ginkotsu's names prior to their joining of the Shichinin-tai.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2- Perils of Childhood

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Every story has to begin somewhere, mine just happens to be a rather sour start. Ginkotsu seems to find it interesting though, completely caught up in the dull tale of my childhood.

And so, with his encouragement, I commit the story to the parchment; my brush writing out the beginnings for the both of us before we met.

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Renichi was an ordinary child, he just never knew his real parents. Left on the steps of the local temple, he was raised by the monks as their student. He would have no choice in his profession or his duties, since he was in debt to them for raising him.

At the age of six, they began to teach him the basics of reading and writing. All the while, they continually dodged the questions he would ask them.

"Where are my parents? Why did they leave me here?"

Every time, the answer was different. Sometimes, they'd say his parents died in their care so they raised him from a child. Other times, they say his lone mother came to them in her time of need and didn't survive childbirth. When the elder monk was feeling creative, Renichi was even treated to the elaborate lies about how his father was a brave samurai who was being chased by a rival and was headed towards the temple for sanctuary only to be killed alongside his wife on the way there.

Whatever the story was, Renichi didn't care. Even as a young child, he was wise enough to doubt his elder's words. He knew in his heart, his parents never thought twice about giving him away.

And with that knowledge, Renichi swore that all family structures were failures. That sooner or later, the ones with power would get rid of those without. That the wanted soon became the unwanted, and then you were left alone to die.

The elder monk said he was bitter, and assigned him many chores and prayers to ease his suffering. But the young man who would one day go on to become Renkotsu of the Shichinin-tai never once doubted that his family had abandoned him.

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Pausing in the tale, I look it over to make sure that it conveys my intention properly. If there's one decent thing I got out of those monks- it was my skills in writing. Once I'm satisfied with it, I turn to Ginkotsu- ready for his part of the story.

"So, that's how my childhood began."

"It's rather sad, Renkotsu."

Confused by his remark, I blink.

"How so?"

"To be a child- with all those sad thoughts…"

"They're not sad," I retort, pointing to my words, "I was bitter- my parents left me."

"But you got to live in a temple, with plenty of food, a warm futon to sleep in and people who did try and take care of you."

I fall silent for a moment before slowly raising my brush, ready to write down what I hear.

"I take it; you didn't have it so easy- Ginkotsu?"

"What I remember wasn't that nice."

"Tell me about it."

"Okay."

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Ginjirou was born to a poor family, who made their living working every day in the fields for the local daimyou. His father was sick, a strange condition that grew worse as the years went by and his mother often had to take less than favorable jobs to have enough money to pay for food.

While they both loved their son, it was not easy for them to do so. Bright red hair atop his head and a glassed-over right eye left him the target of many speculations. Some wondered if he was really a hanyou child, a side-effect of his mother sleeping around for some extra cash. Others merely thought it was a curse on the family, a sign that the father's disease was going to be fatal and possible spread to the whole village.

The more the rumors spread, the more often the family was forced to move. It was no surprise that by the age of four his father's illness and the stress of the constant moves finally took its toll. His mother then was left with no choice but to take even more jobs to support her young son.

This all changed when he was six years old and visited the nearest temple to pray for help. As he tripped over the top stair, he ran into another young boy- perhaps only a few years older than himself…

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I trail off on writing as the memory dawns on me. It was such a brief encounter that I never had given it a second thought. But now, I find myself remembering a poor, red-haired boy with a cloth pulled over his right eye.

"Ginkotsu- that was…you?"

He seems confused at first, but slowly it registers.

"You were- that boy?"

Nodding my head, I glance down at the paper once more. The words now seem to carry a higher level of importance. Now, not only to they recount our childhoods, but they've brought to light a part of our pasts that we never knew before.

Yawning, I roll up the scroll and begin to put the ink away.

"It looks like we have a lot to talk about, Ginkotsu. But right now- we'd best get some sleep."

"Gesh."

He starts to leave, but for some reason- I find myself stopping him.

"There's another futon in here. Just use it."

He looks at me, and I'm certain he instantly sees beyond my words.

I may have hated my family. You may have lost yours. But you're my companion now- my friend. We're family now. You and I.

"Gesh! Okay, Renkotsu oo-aniki."

Settling down into the futons, I can hear the shifting of Ginkotsu's metal joints. Smiling wryly to myself, I wonder what happened between our chance encounter and Ginkotsu's state when I met him years later. But, as my eyes grow heavy- I remind myself that it can wait until tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Renkotsu," I hear Ginkotsu's voice murmur sleepily.

And, perhaps it's because I'm in a sentimental mood, I find myself replying.

"Goodnight, Ginkotsu."

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