Sakichi stirred in his sleep. Gyobu chuckled. Even at thirteen, this boy, when he slept - rarely so, rarely so - slept like a newborn baby.
The wise man and their Lord summoned the boy, but Gyobu thought they would excuse a moment of tardiness on his part, as this child of misfortune slept ever so rarely.
Even so, Yoshitsugu wondered since when did he feel so merciful. Why should he, again, allowe the boy's his sleep? This boy, who had more life before him then he could ever hope for?
Did this peaceful face, in which traces of misfortune could still be see, for they were etched there, somehow influence him? No, that was impossible.
And so, he would wake a boy - when his nice dream ends, for he had a feeling that the boy was dreaming quite nicely, indeed.
"Gyobu? Why... why are you watching me sleep?!" How embarassing. How humiliating.
He thought his friend knew better than to---!! Humiliate him like this???!!! To be caught in such weakness--- how dare Gyobu, how dare---
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