I DO NOT own Ginga Densetsu Weed! All rights belong to Yoshihiro Takehashi! I kept on wondering to myself, "Why doesn't Weed get scars"? So to answer that, I simply had to change the appearance of Weed (who should've had scars after his merciless beating with Hougen), otherwise this FanFic story wouldn't have worked. I hope you all enjoy.

Weed awoke that Spring morning, ready to welcome the new season with a gleeful smile. He walked out of Gajou and into the open area, running over to a large pond that held cool refreshing water. He bent down to lap up a mouthful of water, but came to a shocking discovery.

He had scars. And not just little scratches, but deep and easily seeable scars. A large pink and fleshly hole had exposed through his forehead. Another small, but deep scratch had shown itself through the left side of his cheek. Two massive scars raked across his throat. Finally, long and deep scars raked across his elbow, neck, wither, belly, back, upper left thigh, and tail.

Weed came to an understanding that he couldn't have gotten out of the battle with Hougen unscarred, but this new sight has horrified him. He was the Leader of Ohu. What would his friends say when they caught sight of this newly scarred Leader? His father had scars, but they were on his forehead, barely seeable unless someone looked him straight into the eyes. His father was identified as a strong, brave, and righteous leader, but would Weed be considered the same?

Then, Weed's mind came to the recollection of being unable to save so many of his friends. Smith had died because he didn't want to lose Weed, which made bow his head in guilt. John was already on his deathbed and begging "Akame" and Hiro to make Weed as strong as possible, but Weed – after John had died – was (once again) unable to do anything. Finally, Jerome had died in order to save him, but Weed – for the third and final time – had been too weak and tired from the cold to rescue his friend from certain death.

Tears began to run down Weed's cheek, only for a voice to call out, "Leader! We've been waiting for you!" Running up to him was his good friend Kyoushiro, who was now frowning with concern when he saw the Akita's eyes water with tears. "Are you okay, Weed?"

"No," Weed spoke softly and sadly. "I'm not okay." He gestured to the scars all over him. "Look at me, Kyoushiro. I have so many scars that make you pale in comparison. And I'm the Leader of Ohu. Leaders are not supposed to have scars. Scars are only reminders of all the bad that had happened in our lives."

Kyoushiro chuckled softly. "You know damn well that's not true, Weed," he told Weed. "Take a good look at me. I had been abused by my father, having worn so many scars from his past beatings. But these?" He placed a paw to his cheek scars and the two running diagonally across his forehead. "These were given to me by those damned Dobermans," he said, "and you."

"How did I give you those scars?" Weed questioned, utterly confused.

"Think about it, Weed," Kyoushiro tried to comfort him. "If I didn't get these scars, I wouldn't have met you. Scars might be permanent reminders of our past, but they can also be amazing reminders of our trials we've been through in life. If you hadn't done the things you've done, made the friends you have now, then you wouldn't have so many scars to show yourself just how far you've come."

"Kyoushiro," Weed gaped at his Kishu friend with awe, "you really believe that?"

"Of course I do, Weed," Kyoushiro said to his friend, licking him on his scarred forehead. "Scars are only physical wounds. They might never go away, but your spirit and courage that you still hold within you is strong. And that's all that matters. If you have more than enough of a strong soul inside of your scarred body, a sense of inner strength and prowess, then what should your physical appearance matter to anyone? You're still the same brave, kind, and friendly Weed I've always known. You're still the Leader that everyone – everyone – admires. You're still Gin's son. You're still my friend."

Weed finally beamed with understanding as he rubbed his muzzle against his friend's chest, whispering, "Thank you, Kyoushiro. I promise, I'll carry these scars as if they were gifts to my body, and think nothing bad of them."

"That's the Weed I know," Kyoushiro smirked, licking the Akita on the forehead.

How was it? Good? :) Please read & review!