Souji blinked in confusion at the phrasing and realized they were experiencing a language mismatch. “Oh, no, I don’t have a brother by blood. My ryu has always been my family. I consider the men of the Shinsengumi my brothers. For my parents to produce all of them I would need ten mothers!” A giggle bubbled out of the delicate man like spring water. His own mother had scorned raising sons, with their coarse manners and undisciplined kinetics. Perhaps it was partially due to this and his two older sisters that Souji's personality listed toward the feminine extreme.
Though a tense concern for those left behind cyclically descended upon him Souji had no choice but to repel futile worry. His ryu were each and every a mighty warrior; moreover, they yet had one another while he was stranded abroad. It was not easy to dissuade himself from fearing some terrible event he would never see. The young swordmaster loved his brothers with the quiet yet compelling gravity of earth. But being a ronin meant he had to face the distinct possibility of never seeing those he loved each and every day. Indeed, one seldom had the luxury of saying goodbye in this brutal lifestyle. Many years of psychological conditioning had shaped his consciousness to accept such painful separation with only a resounding toll of sadness.
“Being alive is something to always be most grateful for. While one is alive there is hope of positive change." He agreed warmly, reaching across the narrow space to tap one long finger where Dan's heart beat. "Who knows? Perhaps there is a deeper purpose to you being here beyond the ship being broken. I rarely take any event at face value." Other than violence, of course. One could hardly be philosophical when someone's katana was thrusting toward him.