Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any characters contained therein.

A/N: I've been watching the anime, and seething with frustration 'coz Kirara and Katsushiro are so perfect for one another, but there she goes and has a crush on an older, more powerful old man. Although Kanbei is cool and all, I really DON'T see him with Kirara, and the whole love triangle thing is so sad, so i've decided to write a fanfic about it. It was originally meant to be a very long oneshot, but along the way, I found that the end of this part just called out for a chapter change(you'll see when you get to the end :p)

With that being said, thank you for being here, and..enjoy!

Never Meant to Be

Completing a downward slash, he sheathed his katana. He'd been a monster on the battlefield today, killing countless number of mechanical and human samurai alike. Blood and oil bathed his katana as he wielded it in all its glory. His movements were a blur to his enemies, his katana only a glint in the moonlight before it impacted, bringing with it instant death. For all that he hated killing, he understood now, it was necessary in the life of a samurai. Death was necessary in the life of a samurai, and so he'd unleashed his killing intent to its full potential, inducing a bloodlust in himself like no other. It was said that he was a different man on and off the battlefield, kind and compassionate, always willing to help, but his enemies never got a chance to see that side of him, they only knew and feared the monster that they called "The Demon of Kanna", after the village he'd helped save, all those years ago.

After any battle had always been the hardest time for him. He'd had to struggle with himself for control of his own body, since once there was no one left to kill, his bloodlust did not leave him-it only became stronger. In fact, even in the heat of battle, his killing intent was never as strong as after it was done, when he was the last one standing, and it was usually only by sheer force of will that he would master himself enough to stumble back to the village he'd promised to protect, fatigued and dazed, to look for a meal and a place to stay the night. Always, he would warn the villagers never to enter the battlefield, before, during and even after the battles. He would give them the excuse he had manufactured over the years-that his killing techniques were not perfect, and to avoid getting hurt from any enemy samurai he had not finished off completely, he wanted them to stay away. He had become so proficient in saying it that the lies practically rolled off his tongue nowadays and he'd long since forgotten the fear that he would kill somebody by accident, since the villagers usually responded with "Yes, samurai-sama," bowing and scraping before him, never knowing how dangerous he was, never knowing that all he wanted was to lose himself in more killing, and their safety only had a small part in his subconscious whenever he stood on the battlefield and the bloodlust overwhelmed him.

That night, he'd killed more than he'd ever killed before at one go. The bandits had heard that the village was being protected by a samurai, and sent out a large attacking force to deal with him. They had not known it would be him protecting the village, or they would not have come. They knew by now, from his reputation as one of the original seven who had defeated a fleet of Nobuseri at Kanna, and among the three of the original seven who had survived the attack by the capital, and the student of Shimada Kanbei, captain of the human force which had lost the war against the machines, so many years ago, that he was a force to be reckoned with, and any village under his protection, they would not enter. But this time, he'd made sure that his identity was hidden, as deep within him, he harboured a secret desire, so strong that it scared him sometimes. A secret desire to kill, that had been born the moment he killed for the first time, and only grew when he felt the hurt from Kirara's rejection. Killing was his escape from the painful thoughts of Kirara and Kanna that flooded his mind unceasingly. It was only when he sunk his katana into enemy flesh or metal that he could lose himself, hacking and slashing methodically, with no feelings, with no thoughts but to kill. At times like those, even his survival was secondary to the success of killing someone, or something.

Bodies lay at his feet, blood seeped into his slippers as he wandered aimlessly among the dead, looking for something else to kill.

"Why?! How come you're all DEAD?! FIGHT ME!!!" he screamed to the sky, killing intent pouring out from him even as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He struggled again to master himself, and had almost grasped it when suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and his other self took over.

Pulling his katana out of its scabbard, he slashed twice as he turned, once at neck level, and another time diagonally downwards, not unlike the strike he had seen Kanbei-sensei use against Kikuchiyo in Kouga a long time ago, intended to decapitate and kill. However, as he completed both strokes, he didn't feel the usual satisfaction of a kill, he did not feel that sensation of flesh and bone, parting before his katana, of blood trickling down his blade. Instead, he had heard the harsh ringing of metal on metal, felt the resistance of that metal break down before the great katana he had been given by his sensei, and most importantly, he still sensed the presence of the samurai. As he crouched, with his katana pointing to his enemy by his side, he knew he had only grazed his opponent. Without missing a beat, he launched himself towards the opponent, thrusting the blade forward towards the heart.


Kanbei had felt the monstrous killing intent from the samurai supposed to protect their village from his hut, far away from the main body of the village itself. After the war in Kanna, he had bequeathed his katana to his self proclaimed pupil, Katsushiro, and retired in another village, not far from, yet not too close to Kanna, after traveling the world for a few years with Shichiroji and Yukino as the present she claimed 'Momotaro' owed her. He could not return to Kanna, not after what he had found out there. Kirara was far from the ideal woman of his dreams, but he viewed her in high regard, respecting her bravery and spirit, and he knew, if he stayed in Kanna, he would have had to be honest with her and tell her that he had no feelings for her whatsoever, but somehow, he couldn't do it. Shimada Kanbei had always been a man of honour, a man of virtue and a kind man. He could not bring himself to destroy that girl's spirit by rejecting her love. He'd seen how Katsushiro had reacted to her rejection, and he pitied his young pupil, for although he was a novice in the game of love, he knew that she would probably react the same way, drowning herself in sorrow and dejection, so this was the best he could do, while hoping that she would move on and forget about him, maybe fall for his pupil in the process, if he ever did return to Kanna.

The village had accepted him as a hermit, accepted him despite his eccentricities and respected his reclusive nature, giving him the peace and privacy that he had sought after, in order to contemplate his failures in the war, and his life as a samurai. After Kanna, he had to admit, the farmer's life held many attractions to him, its routine nature he found calming, and the satisfaction from watching the rice grow, harvesting it, then eating that same rice he'd grown with his hands was something he had never obtained from killing and so, sometimes, he could be found in the middle of the rice fields, helping out the farmers and doing his fair share, which earned him food and respect from the villagers.

One day, he'd heard that the bandits had reemerged, a combination of the Nobuseri he'd helped repel in Kanna, and the commonplace thieves and outlaws, exiled from the capital and other villages. He supposed Katsushiro would be out there somewhere, fighting the battle he had sworn to fight, eradicating the bandits, and somewhere deep inside, he felt proud of his student. Then, he'd heard of the bandits coming to the village. He offered to try to stand up to them, but the villagers wouldn't hear of it. They argued that although he had been a skilled samurai once, his body had deteriorated and he couldn't possibly be enough to turn back the Nobuseri. They told him to take it easy, and not to throw away the life of peace he had gained, and let them hire samurai, like they had heard other villages had been doing. Sure, they were polite enough, and vague enough in their suggestions not to insult his honour, but he knew that they would not believe in him no matter what he said, so he told them to do whatever they wanted, but secretly, he'd procured a katana and silently resolved to help the samurai who decided to help the village.

When the samurai arrived, he had withdrawn himself to his hut far from the village to avoid his presence being recognized by the samurai, obtaining news only from a few of the villagers who passed by his house on the way to the rice fields. He was surprised that there had been only one samurai hired, but not too surprised, as the village was not really rich enough to hire many, and since the deaths of Gorobei, Heihachi, Kyuuzo and Kikuchiyo had become public knowledge, the number of freelance samurai who would help a small village for meager sums had decreased dramatically.

He decided to get to the battlefield an hour late, to give the samurai in question some time to kill some enemies, and so that, when he arrived, the samurai would hopefully be tired enough to accept any help he could get, therefore not questioning his presence on the battlefield. However, he had heard that this particular samurai had insisted that nobody was to go near the action before he said so, claiming it to be for the safety of the villagers. This however, Kanbei brushed off. He knew that he could take care of himself with anything short of the likes of Gorobei, Kyuuzo, Shichiroji and maybe his old pupil Katsushiro, all of whom were either dead or unlikely to be there.

Then, he'd arrived on the scene and felt that monstrous killing intent. It chilled him to the bones, and in all his life, Kanbei had only ever encountered a few people who harboured such malicious, ravaging and unbridled killing intent. Even Kyuuzo's had not been as strong in the short time that he had known him, and his own killing intent paled in comparison to the one emitted by the person on the battlefield. By now, he was sure that whatever samurai employed by the villagers would probably have been killed, swallowed up by this massive killing intent. However, something tingled in Kanbei's mind. It was something to do with this person's killing intent. It seemed almost..familiar, and yet..different from anything he'd ever experienced. He just couldn't put his finger on it, and so he decided to move towards the source of this killing intent for a closer look.

He hid his killing intent, and guarded his footfalls so they were not too heavy, utilising all the stealth he had gathered from his samurai years. He got to within a few feet of the samurai and watched silently as he shouted at the sky. Suddenly, without warning, a katana slashed at his neck and was headed diagonally down his body as the samurai spun around, apparently having sensed his presence. Luckily, his reflexes weren't dulled too much by the years of retirement on the farms as he had kept up his swordsmanship and most of his agility, training everyday after he got back from working on the fields. He raised his katana desperately to block off or deflect the attack, but to no avail. His blade was sliced in three, each stroke of the other samurai's blade so crisp and sharp it sliced his blade cleanly into three pieces, much like the wood that Heihachi used to cut. Even so, Kanbei used the breaking of his katana as an obstacle, delaying the samurai and he managed to escape with only a shallow cut on his neck, and a little less fabric on his clothes. Before he could regain his composure and raise his guard again however, the samurai had already launched himself towards him, his katana aimed at Kanbei's heart. In all his time as a fighter, he had never witnessed such speed and skill as possessed by this nameless samurai. He had continued on his missed stroke, crouched, and launched himself towards Kanbei, with no wasted movements in his technique.

Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, something clicked. Kanbei recognised the samurai. That killing intent, laced with frantic desperation, he had encountered a long time ago, so long ago it seemed like they had met in another lifetime, only this time, the hesitancy in the aura was gone, the reluctance to take life when needed - it was not there any longer. Somehow, Kanbei watched the samurai move in slow motion as he recognised the thrusting style of Gorobei, embodied in the katana he had given to his student. He recognised those green eyes, framed by dark green hair, that snarl on his face, and the sound of the battle cry he had never been able to silence in the most dire of situations, only now his voice was gruff, that of a grown man, no..a grown samurai.

"Katsushiro!!" he yelled, knowing it was his only hope. His student had become so strong that he could not dodge or parry his attack, not with this body, degenerated from years of wear and tear caused by the physical overexertions he had pushed his body to in so many battles over the years. Had he been fitter and less shaken, the fight might have been longer. Yet, even at his best, Kanbei was unsure if he could have measured up against such speed and skill.

Katsushiro, the Katsushiro off the battlefield, suddenly regained control, but it was too late. He tried so hard, to stop his body from moving, to move the katana from his intended path of Kanbei's heart, but it was too late. He could only watch in horror, as he recognised his sensei's voice, calling his name, as his momentum propelled him forward and his katana, no..Kanbei's katana, pierced his body and plunged into Kanbei's heart, making blood splutter all over Katsushiro's face.

Kanbei coughed up blood onto the younger man's head. Breathily, he said, "Katsushiro..y-you..have become..s-sam-urai.."

Katsushiro, meanwhile, felt his knees give way as he let go of the katana. He sobbed incessantly, cursing himself, cursing the world, and feeling only grief and remorse for what he had done. "sensei...sensei...I'm so sorry..." he sobbed into the night over and over again to no one in particular, since Kanbei had long since collapsed onto his knees, with his katana still planted in his heart. However, he had died with his eyes closed, and the slightest hint of a curvature on his lips which had the makings of a proud smile on his face, as though he was proud of Katsushiro, his first and last pupil, becoming the samurai that he had had the potential to be.

He sat there for hours with that blank look in his eyes, staring out at the black of the night. Huddled within himself like he had never done before, Katsushiro now only looked like a ghost of the samurai he had been, less than a day ago. His face held a haunted look as he repeated to himself, "I'm sorry..I didn't mean to..I'm sorry.." He couldn't close his eyes, couldn't fall asleep beside the body of Kanbei, his sensei whom he had just run through with the katana he'd been given. Every so often, images of him stabbing his sensei came unbidden to his mind and he would begin afresh, muttering with a renewed fervor of a man possessed. Then, his memories of Kyuuzo's death flashed through his mind.

"Sensei!" Katsushiro scrabbled on the floor frantically, his hand searching for his katana, or any weapon at all, for he had seen a soldier take aim at Kanbei, his finger on the trigger and poised to shoot. Suddenly, his hand felt something, no..it wasn't a katana, what was it? A gun! No, but samurai don't use guns. Katsushiro was desperate anyway. Trembling, he lifted the gun to his eye level and took aim. He still wasn't sure if he should do this, but one look at Kanbei about to be shot and he knew what he had to do. Instinctively closing his eyes, he squeezed the trigger with his fingers, pumping the enemy with bullets. Somehow, although he knew one bullet would have been enough, he couldn't bring himself to stop. That soldier had tried to kill Kanbei sensei, and Katsushiro had to make sure he was dead. He pinched the trigger, firing until the gun had run out of bullets, and even then, he'd not had enough, willing more bullets to erupt from the barrel of the gun and bury themselves into the enemy's body.

He opened his eyes. The soldier collapsed slowly to the ground, and for one second, Katsushiro felt a mixture of pride and relief. He'd just saved his sensei's life. But the sigh of relief that he had been about to let go died in his throat when he saw the startled look on the face of the red clad samurai, who had been behind the soldier Katsushiro had killed. His eyes travelled downwards and his heart almost stopped as he saw the holes in Kyuuzo's body and realised what he had truly achieved.

He had killed Kyuuzo, the samurai he had admired, whom he had set as a target to surpass someday. Without thinking, he had squeezed that trigger so hard that the bullets went through the soldier, puncturing the body of the samurai behind him as well. Although he had been told that it was not so, Katsushiro could not help but remember the accusing light that Kyuuzo's eyes took, his body frozen in shock as he felt the bullets riddle him, and his eyes growing even bigger as he realised that they had come from one of his own, the youngest of the seven samurai, Katsushiro.

He howled into the night, venting all his regret as his body slumped towards the ground in exhaustion. He'd done it again, he'd killed two of the seven now. First Kyuuzo, he had killed to save Kanbei, and now Kanbei, he had killed in his bloodlust. Now more than ever, Katsushiro felt the aching guilt in his heart over the deaths of the rest of his brothers in arms, Heihachi, Gorobei, Kyuuzo, Kikuchiyo, and Kanbei, as though they had all been his fault. His conscience tore at him, snatching away at what was left of his spirit like vultures feasting on a carcass. The sun rose again, and the night turned to morning and still, Katsushiro sat there, unmoving, with Kanbei in front of him, impaled upon his own katana.

With his own two hands, he had killed two of his companions, and because of his helplessness, the rest of them had died. He raised his palms and stared at them, wondering how he would ever be rid of the blood that stained them, thick and red, spilling over his palms, onto his wrists, and even drenched his arms and clothes, the blood of Kyuuzo and Kanbei now intermingled with the blood of the others he had killed. He had never gotten over killing Kyuuzo, not really, and now, here he was, with the man who had supported him after Kyuuzo's death, dead by his hands. He had never felt so alone in his life, so devoid of meaning, so devoid of purpose, had Katsushiro.

"It's a matter of who dies first..that's all there is to it."

The voice of his sensei rang clear in his mind. He turned to face the man whose voice he had just remembered, hoping to see signs of life in him, that he had, by some unknown power, miraculously been resurrected. But his hopes were in vain. Yet he knew that his sensei would have told him the same thing he had told him when he had killed Kyuuzo by accident.

"You must live Katsushiro! At least for a while longer.."

Yes, he had to live. After all, sensei's body had to be carried back to Kanna and buried with the other five of the original seven. He had no such hopes for himself. Disgraced and desolated, he knew he was the only one among them who had never deserved to be among the seven in the first place, and in death, he knew that he had no right to be buried there, among heroes, not when he had killed 2 of them, his own companions.


The villagers were still cautious at entering the battlefield as the samurai had told them to give him 3 days alone to destroy the bandits and as of yet, there had been no bandit attacks on the village so they assumed that the samurai had thus far been successful. On the third day, one brave villager dared to venture out onto the plains which had been their rice fields, hoping to see the samurai in action. However, what he found was not the samurai, but the katana he had seen that reclusive hermit fellow, Yoshichika, brandishing in the evenings when everyone was relaxing, but broken into many pieces, and remains of the bandits, Nobuseri and humans alike. The samurai himself though, he was nowhere to be seen.

With Kanbei propped on his back, as though riding piggyback, Katsushiro trudged through the undergrowth, heading only in the general direction of Kanna. As he could not bear the shame of walking through towns or villages with his dead sensei on his back, Katsushiro could only guess how far they had come. Though he had removed the katana and cleaned it, methodically, like he had been taught to, the first time he'd killed, and cleaned out Kanbei's wound the best he could, treating it as respectably as possible, he knew he could not bear the disgrace of hoisting the man he had called sensei, then killed in his bloodlust, through every village for all to see. Nor could he leave the body anywhere for fear of crows and ravens who would tear at his skin.

However, doing that also meant that he had had to avoid most villages, and take the longer way around them to avoid being sighted. Being stubborn as he was, Katsushiro had decided he would not stop until he reached Kanna village, as the first form of repentance for the evil deed, walking non stop for days and nights on end. After 3 straight days of trudging through jungles, wastelands and undergrowth, Katsushiro began to tire, his samurai's body unused to the strain of bearing two bodies instead of one, and even moving at the snail's pace that they were, he made poor time, hardly making more than 5 kilometres a day.

He forced himself on however, thinking of Kanna village, and the way he last remembered it, with celebrations being held, the rice being harvested, and everyone safe and happy. For a while, he found solace in his thoughts, and, spurred by them, his legs moved faster, his strides lengthening, and he felt some of his energy return to him as he was rejuvenated by his purpose of carrying them both closer to their destination, and Kanbei's final resting place.

Kanbei. He had almost forgotten about his sensei amongst all his daydreams. As he thought of the villagers' possible reactions when they found out he had killed their saviour, their Kanbei-sama, his paced slowed as the weight of reality shattered his naive illusions and came crashing down on him. Suddenly, the weight on his shoulders increased as the burden he carried now became more than just Kanbei, but also the shame and the disgrace he had brought upon himself in that one moment of madness, and once again he started trudging, feet plodding the ground as he forced them one ahead of the other.

He thought of Rikichi and Sanae, maybe they might understand, having seen him in battle. Maybe, just maybe they'd accept him the way he was and somehow absolve his sins. He thought of the Elder. The old man was very knowledgeable, and his experience might allow him to see the truth of the situation, and maybe, by the slimmest of chances, he might turn the villagers. Komachi too! She believed in him from the very start, although not as much as she did with Kikuchiyo, but still..he hoped against hope that somehow, maybe the villagers of Kanna might not hate him and revile him like the monster he knew he was.

Over the years, he'd trained himself as much in mind as in body, but just as he could not overcome his bloodlust, this was another one of his weaknesses. The village of Kanna always held bittersweet memories for the young samurai, and everytime he thought of it, he would crack, and the worst of those memories would come flooding back to him, bombarding him with the pain of rejection, over and over again. This time, he tried to resist the urge, tried to fight his thoughts as he knew he couldn't afford to think of it. He forced himself to focus elsewhere, looking at his feet, even turning to stare at Kanbei, but to no avail. Slowly but surely, his thoughts turned to the one reason he had never been back to Kanna all these years.


Oh, how he wished he'd never let her hand go. How he wished he hadn't been so weak, outclassed and overpowered by three low rate, disgraces of samurai whom, now, he could brush aside collectively with a single movement of his blade. Looking back, he wondered how he'd expected her to reciprocate the love he'd felt for her, that painful yearning that never dulled all this time. After all, he'd failed her, and her Kanbei sama hadn't. He'd saved her when Katsushiro had been helpless to protect her, and he supposed, that made all the difference. But still, he'd held on, hoping against hope that Kirara was not the type of person who gave her heart where power lay, and although he still refused to believe it, it was the only excuse he could offer himself.

It had been like in Kanna wherever he went, with all the village girls ogling him, and not subtly. They gathered like moths to a summer flame, hiding behind trees and in bushes as they watched him train, as if a samurai could not easily sense their presence. Sometimes, he tolerated them. After all, it was the way of the samurai to endure, and to be able to concentrate in any sort of situation. Oh, he had overcome his flustered feelings after the first few villages he'd helped protect from the rag tag bands made up of the remnants of the Nobuseri as well as other, human outlaws who had joined them, but occasionally, when he got close to Kanna, there would be villages which had Water Priestesses too, and in some ways, they reminded him of Kirara. It did not help when they all became part of the group of girls that dogged his every step and stalked his every move. Those times, he had had to run away from them, using every bit of stealth he possessed. It was surprising how tenacious such girls were, and even though his skills had improved, that aspect of his movements had always been a little lacking. When he'd escaped, he'd sigh and think, "Ah, how the heavens mock me." He could have gotten any other girl, anywhere in the world, the girls in all the villages proved that, but he had fallen for the one girl he that would never be attracted to him. "Kirara dono..."


His knee sank to the ground as he lost the will to go on. Tired, hungry and thirsty, only the thought of giving his sensei a proper burial had kept him going, but now, thoughts of Kirara rushed through his mind as though they were trying to split his skull. He tried his hardest to get up, to continue walking, but it was all in vain. He knew what Kirara's reaction would be when he walked into the village, with Kanbei's body on his back. He knew that for all that Rikichi, Sanae, Komachi and even the Elder could say, Kirara could change the opinions of the villagers in the blink of an eye. Yet now, it was not even the villagers' potential hate that kept him down, but Kirara's hate. He could almost feel it now, as if somehow, she knew what he had done to the man he knew she loved. Even worse, he knew the grief and sorrow it would bring her, the grief and sorrow that he would bring her..had brought her, in his one moment of madness. He'd sworn to protect her, but instead, he would be the one to bring death and despair to her.

He clutched his hand to the left side of his chest, suddenly feeling an inexplicable rising pain coming from inside his body. He didn't know what it was that he felt inside. It was a mixture of sadness, pain, emptiness, and regret. Tears escaped his eyes as he knelt there with Kanbei's body on his back. He cried unreservedly, hacking and coughing up blood from the dryness of his throat. He felt beaten and battered, like a broken man. His energy sapped by his crying, and the exertion of his non stop walk without food or water, he gave in and rolled over onto the ground, thinking, "Kirara-dono..I'm so sorry.." Slowly, his vision became cloudy, and all he could see was darkness.


Author's Notes : Hehe, didn't it call for a chapter change? I found it pretty hard to think of how to incorporate the continuation of the story into this without doing a chapter change so here I am, taking the easy way out XD. Also, I'm debating between using swordand katana all the time, what do you guys think would work better? I'm also unsure about the spelling of Kanbei's name, since the subbed versions i have use Kanbei halfway, then switch to Kanbei during the second half of the series, but i'll just go with the one we've heard from ep2, which is Kanbei. I've done my best to try and italicise and bold stuff like jap words and ppl's thoughts out, so it's easier to get, but let me know if you think there should be anything improved. Alright, over and out. Lemme know what ya think! Cheers, and thank you for R&R-ing!

Ps: I spell using the British system, so I hope no one's too picky over spelling.