[How many among them - the refugees stolen from their worlds - have truly accepted the Natha's purpose? Live among their people, and... do what? When Takasugi meets those who have decided to be pliant, he asks.
And they never give much of an answer.
Takasugi tilts his head, watches Chuuya look him over.
Were. His laugh is sharp, sudden. Not unlike a glass breaking on the floor.] What makes you think I've stopped calling myself one? ['Samurai' implies some sort of code of honor, which he'd never had. The title doesn't suit him.
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And they never give much of an answer.
Takasugi tilts his head, watches Chuuya look him over.
Were. His laugh is sharp, sudden. Not unlike a glass breaking on the floor.] What makes you think I've stopped calling myself one? ['Samurai' implies some sort of code of honor, which he'd never had. The title doesn't suit him.
But, adrift in space, it's all he's known as.]