A Samurai's Duty

His shadow consumed his guilty brother's face as he stood over him.  His hands trembled as he laid them gently on his sheathed sword, his heart wishing his blade did not have to feel the heat of the sun.  But there was no point in wishing and hoping, there was no room for sympathy for a Samurai who does not fulfill his duty, even if it is your brother.

He looked down at the back of his head, an imposing look to please his superiors was necessary, even though his heart reflected nothing of the sort.  Any remorse for a criminal was not tolerated and any outward sign of sympathy would be punishable by death.  He prayed to Buddha that his brother would forget this moment, that he would somehow erase this whole morning, just as quick as his sword would take his own kin's head.

As the tip of sword left the sheath and the metal was cooled by the crisp morning air, his brother stayed motionless.  As kids, they had heard that same familiar sound together thousands of times.  Through endless hours of child hood training, through the sleepless nights as they trekked through the thick Japanese forests, their swords never left their sides.  It was only fitting that the sound of an armed sword be the last sound they share together in this life.  As his older brother delivered the swift blow to his neckline, he knew they were both smiling.