The craggy, age-lined face of Captain Toruru was less scary now than it had been as a new recruit, but still Keroro's legs trembled slightly with trepidation and excitement.

'Congratulations on your promotion, Sergeant Keroro,' Toruru intoned in his slow, low voice, the slight pause before the title causing Keroro's spine to straighten with pride.

'Thank you, sir.'

'To show our appreciation for your hard work and dedication,' Toruru continued, orange fingers steepled on the table before him, 'it has been decided that you will be put in charge of your own platoon.'

Only extreme self control stopped Keroro from squealing with joy. Newly promoted and he was already being given a platoon!

'Captain Toruru,' Keroro said when he had gotten himself back under control, 'If I may speak, sir, would it be possible for me to choose my own team members?'

Toruru's eyes narrowed and for a moment Keroro thought that he may have overstepped a boundary. Then, the senior officer gave a small smile.

'A reasonable request, Sergeant,' Toruru told him, 'I commend you for the bravery required to voice it.'

Keroro saluted sharply.

'There is,' Toruru said, 'One condition.'

Keroro looked down at the condition that was sitting in the plain gray swiveling chair.

'Kukukuu,' laughed the condition, a yellow Keronian named Kururu, 'So you're the new sergeant.'

'That's right, Sergeant Keroro,' he intoned importantly, 'You have been hand selected from a worthy pool of your peers to-'

'Don't flatter me, kukuu, I've been through all of this before,' Kururu told him, still not looking away from his computer screen, spiral glasses hiding any expression.

Throughout his training, Keroro had heard stories about Kururu, Crazy Kururu they called him. He had been assigned to and subsequently kicked off of as many as five different platoons in a single month. There were no official reports filed, but rumor was that Kururu's brilliant but sadistic inventions had caused more pain to his own team members than anything else. Kururu's supposed masochistic tendencies had also been cited as reason for his various court martial incidents. It was widely believed that Kururu's insanity was the only reason he had not been demoted long ago and was still in the service at all; the big bosses was afraid of what Kururu might do or what secrets he might reveal if he were let go.

'Kukukuu, penny for your thoughts?'

'It's no matter,' Keroro dismissed with a wave of one green hand, 'Sergeant Major Kururu, you are welcome to my platoon.'

Keroro tried not to shudder as Kururu's maniacal laughter washed over him as he exited.

Of course they had all been told about the recruitment he was doing and every soldier who was not already attached to a platoon was out in force, trying to prove their worth by showing off their best moves. On soldier in particular caught Keroro's eye. The dark blue Keronian still had the white face and pollywog tail of a youngster, but the energy blasts he emitted were so strong that the others gave him a wide berth.

The younger Keronian didn't seem to notice that he was being watched, simply continuing his training regiment, sending out blast after blast and destroying practice dummy after practice dummy.

When the training instructors called for a break, Keroro made his way over to the powerful youngster.

'Attention, soldier.'

Like a taught rubber band, the tadpole turned and snapped to salute. While training, the youngsters eyes had been wide and veined, his pupils angry pinpricks. Now, however, it was like a completely different person. His eyes were rather large, as tadpoles' eyes usually are, and shone with the naiveté of one who had never seen death or battle.

'Name and rank.'

'Private Second Class Tamama, sir!'

'At ease, Private.'

Tamama widened his stance into a more relaxed position, staring straight ahead as Keroro circled him. The Sergeant felt the eyes of every frog in the room surreptitiously glancing at them.

The Private's face had looked so familiar, and now Keroro realized why. Tamama was another soldier whom Keroro had heard of before. Tamama had been nicknamed Trigger by his peers, due to the fact that the slightest thing could set him off and that he was basically a living gun. Nobody dared tell him the nickname to his face for those self-same reasons. They were afraid of getting an energy blast with their name on it. Fear, Keroro decided, is a good thing.

'Private, my name is Sergeant Keroro.'

'Yes, sir, I know, sir. You are my idol, sir.'

Keroro preened slightly and chuckled, 'Kero kero kero, my reputation precedes me. Private Second Class Tamama, you have been carefully selected from a pool of worthy candidates to join my platoon. Report for briefing tomorrow morning,'

'Yes, sir, Mr Sergeant, sir!'

As he retreated from the room, Tamama's adoring gaze burning a hole through his head, Keroro made a mark on his mental checklist. Two down, two to go.

Keroro and Giroro had been friends for as long as either Keronian could remember. Although they had joined the army at the same time, Giroro's innate knowledge of the inner workings of weapons had caused him to be whisked away to some secret government base that was rumored to be working on several highly dangerous experimental weapons. Part of this assignment included a strict non-communication policy, to the outside world as well as to others in the army.

Over the years, Giroro had advanced at a steady rate, but once he had reached Corporal, he stopped. Countless times he had been offered promotions and countless times he had refused. The higher-ups were baffled. Giroro had always seemed so motivated for success, so eager for power, that the idea of him not wanting to be in charge of his own platoon was unthinkable.

Yes, Keroro an Giroro had been friends for as long as either of them could remember and this gave Keroro a distinct advantage over the Caotains and Generals who tried to woo Giroro with leadership.

Despite his gruff exterior, on the inside Giroro was a frightened tadpole. Always being stuck in his brother's shadow and always being compared to him had made Giroro very bitter and insecure. In their parents' eyes, Garuru was perfect and could do no wrong; no matter what Giroro did, it was never enough. Giroro fought his lack of self-worth by being macho and angry and as different from his brother as possible. Sure, he may have wanted to be a platoon leader at some point, but once Garuru had achieved that, the idea didn't quite appeal to Giroro anymore.

It was also true that Giroro often didn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't given a specific task. Hot-headedness could only get him so far. He had a deep seeded psychological need to be told what to do. This need probably stemmed from being a younger sibling. As a youngster, Garuru had always told him what to do. This submissive behavior had continued in school when Giroro always followed Keroro's bidding, regardless of how ridiculous the task was. This ability to blindly follow Keroro's orders made anything they endeavored to do together a complete success.

He found Giroro in the weapons lab, head bent over the gun he was cradling, tinkering with a bolt or screw here or there. This was another asset of Giroro's; he didn't even look up when the door was opened, all of his intense focus and concentration trained on the metal in his hands.

Only Giroro, Keroro mused as he stepped closer, would return from an assignment that required full isolation and simply hole himself up again.

The Corporal's body stiffened when Keroro placed a hand on his shoulder, but still the red Keronian remained focussed on his work.

'Corporal Giroro.'

He turned around so quickly that Keroro's hand was dislodged. His usual scowl was replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

'K-kero-chan!'

The friendly endearment slipped out and Keroro found himself swept into a tight hug until Giroro regained control of himself and moved away, eyes downcast. He had never been good with emotions.

'It's,' Giroro murmured, 'been so long since...' he trailed off.

'I know.'

'Physical contact.'

'I know,' Keroro stressed. Obviously, there would be no problem at all convincing Giroro to join the platoon.

Every Keronian platoon contained five members. This was in case of Viper attack because, as every tadpole knows, it takes five Keronians to take down a Viper. The final member of Keroro's platoon found him.

The approach was completely silent, a stealth warrior who never gave away his position until he dropped lightly to the floor in front of the Sergeant. Keroro recognized the pale blue eyes and silvery mask.

'Zeroro.'

Zeroro had been in school with Keroro and Giroro. He had always been extremely gullible and had done everything that Keroro told him to, no matter how many times he got hurt. It was a different sort of devotion than Giroro's, but devotion all the same. He had been whisked away by the military almost as soon as he finished school. Like Giroro, Zeroro had been taken to a secure military facility. Unlike Giroro, Zeroro had been trained to be a deadly assassin using only hand-to-hand combat skills. He was talked about in whispers throughout the barracks, as if everyone thought he was lurking over their shoulder, ready to snap their neck if they spoke out of line.

Keroro had all but forgotten about Zeroro, something he had been wont to do in their school years.

'Sergeant Keroro,' he said in a husky murmur, saluting sharply, 'I heard tell of your promotion and subsequent search for a platoon.'

This way of speaking was far more formal than Zeroro had ever been in youth. His eyes seemed hardened and cold, no doubt due to his years of training as a cold-blooded killer. Keroro followed the old school mate's lead and adopted a formal speech pattern.

'That is correct, Lance Corporal.'

'I humbly offer my services to you,' Zeroro said.

This was the traditional format for requesting a place in a particular platoon.

'Lance Corporal Zeroro, you are welcome to the Keroro Platoon.'

Zeroro gave a brief nod then melted back into the shadows and out of sight.

The formation of a new platoon was a Big Deal in the Keronian military. Your platoon was your family and, as such, there was a special ceremony that was used to bind a platoon together. Even if one was to change their name and renounce their membership, they would still find themselves drawn to wherever the rest of the platoon was. The ceremony was extremely secret and only those who went through it knew what it was.

Once the ceremony was complete, the soldiers involved would present themselves to the military population and resonate together as a platoon for the first time.

It was an interesting bunch that Keroro had pulled together, mused Captain Toruru, but somehow it just seemed to work.

The five Keronians stood in a circle, mouths thrown open as their resonance reached its peak; the chants of Kero, Tama, Giro, Kuru and Zero twisting and twining together, reaching for the sky and filling the air as if by one voice.