They are an intriguing people. From the moment they wake they devote themselves to the perfection of whatever they pursue. I have never seem such discipline. I am surprised to learn that the word Samurai means, ‘to serve’, and that Katsumoto believes his rebellion to be in the service of the Emperor.
You want me to kill THE ENEMIES of Jappos, I’ll kill THE ENEMIES of Jappos… Rebs, or Sioux, or Cheyenne… For 500 bucks a month I’ll kill whoever you want. But keep one thing in mind: I’d happily kill you for free.
This is Katsumoto’s sword. He would have wanted you to have it. He hoped with his dying breath that you would remember his ancestors who held this sword, and what they died for. May the strength of the Samurai be with you always.
Spring, 1877. This marks the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I left the farm at 17. There is so much here I will never understand. I’ve never been a church going man, and what I’ve seen on the field of battle has led me to question God’s purpose. But there is indeed something spiritual in this place. And though it may forever be obscure to me, I cannot but be aware of its power. I do know that it is here that I’ve known my first untroubled sleep in many years.
Winter, 1877. What does it mean to be Samurai? To devote yourself utterly to a set of moral principles. To seek a stillness of your mind. And to master the way of the sword.
I know why you don’t talk. Because you’re angry. You’re angry because they make you wear a dress. I just realized, I’ve been remiss. Forgive me, I forgot to thank you for protecting me yesterday. That is your job right? Protecting me. Well done ‘Bob.’ You don’t mind if I call you Bob, do you? I knew a Bob once; God, he was ugly as a mule. Are you a ladies man, Bob?
