Kubo had been pushing up his sleeve to stick his arm down the mudhole, but well, that worked too!

He giggled, delighted as Beetle placed him on his shoulders, adjusting his position so that he could still keep his hands on his shamisen while he rode. This was a lot better than slogging through the swamp with one sandal. Not just because it took a lot less effort to ride on Father's shoulders than to slog through mud, but because up here, he could see a lot farther, hear a lot better. He could do a better job of paying attention for threats, and spotting them before they made it to his family.

"It sounds beautiful," he said, heeding the wind that might have been music. He played a few complimentary chords, and three sheets of paper flew from his pack in the form of birds to circle with them. He kept playing, his music harmonizing with what he heard of the distant sound. Better to have his paper ready, just in case they were ambushed, even if whatever might ambush them made beautiful sounds.