Nikolai lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling in shock, a tiny baby quietly resting on his chest. The baby gently grasped his shirt, comforted by the Russians' warmth and breathing. He could not remember such affection from his own mother or father.

He did not remember this stranger.

He did not remember much at all.

But he did remember how he felt around these people he, as if he had lived here before in another life. He knew he felt safe and secure around them, like one around good friends or family.

Maybe they were.

The baby opened his amber eyes and blinked in the afternoon sunshine that filtered through the window.

Unknown to this baby, he had not been a baby at the beginning of the day.

Rather, he had been a adult man.

A Samurai.