.
.
No one expected the bombs. The villagers were fighting hard, the seven samurai steadfast and holding. But then the sky exploded, and children and soldiers fell dead on the ground.
xXx
.
Kirara has survived to see a nightmare come to life. She has seen the rice fields burned and reduced to ash, has seen the smoldering remains of the airship city fall like stars. She has seen the explosion flash and the black fallow sink and spread, the mushroom cloud rising like a phoenix limping toward the sun. Now Kanna lies in ruins. And just beyond the wreckage, the fires rage too numerous to put out, the slick tar of machine ships bleeding out into the soil.
She takes refuge in the old farming tunnels beneath the village; a series of caves for smuggling rice and meat. The waters run black and polluted, runoff from the apocalyptic fallow above. But there is rice, and there is meat, and there is sake, if she should choose. For now it seems like enough.
Behind her, Katsushiro lies motionless on the pallet, a film of sweat and dirt covering his body. He is hot, feverish, sepsis raging through him like a swarm. Kirara sits perched at his bedside, counting each shallow breath and watching the flutter of his eyelids. There is nothing but silence now, the soft dripping of water and the sound of wind rushing from the egress. In her hand, the crystal shines brightly, pulsing in time with the beating of Katsushiro's heart.
xXx
.
Kirara wakes to the sound of Katsushiro screaming. Bolting upright, she rushes toward the pallet, grabbing him by the arms. "Katsushiro," Kirara says. He struggles against her, eyes wide and wild. "Katsushiro, stop,"
He sags, panting. Green eyes look up, focuses on her. Comprehension dawns on his face, eyes bloodshot and blinking fast. "Sensei," he says. "Shichiroji-dono....where are they?"
"They're gone," Kirara says. "There was a bomb, they couldn't stop it--"
"No," Katsushiro says. "No, no, this can't be right..."
"Katsushiro I'm so sorry," Kirara says.
He wrenches away from her and retches, clutching his stomach and throwing up on the ground. Kirara watches in horror as his shoulders heave violently, body wracked with pain. He collapses again, drawing his knees to his chest and squeezing his eyes.
That night, she doesn't sleep. She curls up in the dark, holding her arms and pretending not to hear Katsushiro cry.
xXx
.
Moonlight filters through the mouth of the cave, diving deep and making streaks of shadows on the floor.
It has been hours since Kirara last heard Katsushiro. The quiet is unsettling. Hours earlier she could hear him shuffle down corridors, the sound of his footsteps and his grief mingling in the stagnant air. But now there is nothing, just the sound of water rippling from some underground spring. Kirara winds her crystal's leather strap around her hands and steps tentatively outside, rubbing her arms and squinting in the dark.
She finds Katsushiro on his knees. His shoulders are hunched and his eyes are dark and bruised. "I've been looking for you," Kirara says. "I was so worried. I was afraid you might have left."
Katsushiro bows his head. From the doorway, she can see his hands clench into fists. "Katsushiro, please," Kirara says.
"Kyuzo-dono is dead because of me," Katsushiro says. "It was my fault. If it weren't for me, he would still be alive. None of this would have happened."
"You mustn't think that way," Kirara says. "It was an accident. You tried to save Kambei-sama's life. Surely that counts for something."
"It counts for nothing," Katsushiro says. Drops of blood fall on the ground.
"Katsushiro!" Kirara says. She rushes toward him, pulls his hand away from his chest. Blood blooms through his shirt, seeps through his coat and drips onto the floor. There is blood on his blade. Katsushiro's face is pale.
"I couldn't do it," Katsushiro says. His voice is a ragged whisper. "I couldn't kill myself....I am so ashamed."
The cuts aren't deep, a diagonal slash, too superficial to be fatal. Kirara takes the blade, which is wrapped with rice paper and covered in blood, and tears off strips of fabric to cover his wounds.
xXx
.
He comes up to her later that night, fresh bandages around his abdomen.
"I'm sorry I put you through that," Katsushiro says. "I didn't mean for you to find me. A samurai commits seppuku at the height of his shame. But I couldn't finish. I wasn't strong enough in the end."
He lapses into silence. She does not turn, putting all her concentration on sifting through the smuggled rice. She watches as the dirt falls through the sieve, leaving only the cleanest grains behind.
"Kirara, please."
"No," Kirara says. She pushes past him and walks toward the barrels on the other side of the cave. "How could you do that to me? Everyone is dead and I'm all alone. You're not the only one who's grieving, Katsushiro. Everything I've known is gone, and you tried to leave me too."
And there it is, the warmth behind her eyes. She thinks of Kambei and her crystal pulses, the muted glow casting a soft light on the rice. "It wouldn't be the first time," Kirara says. She pushes the sieve into the barrel, hard.
Katsushiro doesn't answer. She can hear him shuffling behind her. "I'm sorry," he says again, and disappears from the room.
xXx
.
Time passes, as it always does. Hours stretch to days and the nights blend into one meaningless stretch of dark. Daylight gradually loses its meaning, and in the caves, they wake and sleep without rhythm, rising wraithlike and empty like ghosts.
One day, she searches for water and finds Kambei's sword; it is buried in the debris. She takes the sword and wraps it up in cloth, cradling it like she would a child. Katsushiro watches silently as Kirara kneels, offering a prayer by the shrine. She lights paper lanterns and rocks back on her heels, the lamplight flickering on her face. Quietly she grieves. Katsushiro touches her arm and neither of them speak.
Gradually, Katsushiro gets his strength back. Kirara watches furtively, her hands pressed on her knees, as he limps toward his katana and takes it in his hands. Kirara watches mutely as Katsushiro starts to train again, taking his sword and slashing through the air.
On the seventh day, the ground shakes. Kirara and Katsushiro ascend to the surface and peer outside, watching a team of imperial guards digging through the wreckage. Armored cars roll through the burnt earth as agents with guns jump to the ground, shapeless in Hazmat suits and oversized gloves.
Kirara startles when Katsushiro grabs her by the arm and presses her against the wall. "Katsushiro, what--"
"Shh." He presses a hand to her mouth, peering behind his shoulder. "They're coming," Katsushiro says. Dimly she realizes just how much bigger he is than her, her face pressing up against his shoulder. "I've got you," he says, and she feels his breath panting against her scalp, his fingers digging into her arm. "Don't move."
In the shadows, they're invisible, pressed up against the wall of the cave and watching silently as the reconnaissance crew sweeps through the ruins. "Shh," Katsushiro says, and she feels him grip her tighter. "Shhh."
xXx
.
It is nighttime now, the darkness like a curtain covering the charred earth. She looks over and sees that Katsushiro has fallen asleep. She shifts position, intending to stand, but his eyes blink half-open and his hand reaches out for hers. He feels warm and good and she doesn't mind. She takes his hand and lets him settle against her, his arm wrapping around her waist.
She asked Kambei once if Samurai could love. It was early morning; the others were asleep. A slight breeze stirred and his eyes narrowed, looking out into the distance. "They cannot," Kambei said. "A samurai's heart is battle-scarred. It is a field of dust, and fallow."
And Kambei fell silent, dust whirling up in the sooty air. Katsushiro had been watching her then, a black-shadowed phantom crouching in the dark.
xXx
.
Hours pass. Around her, she can hear the muted sounds of ships in the distance, can still see the remnants of the fires smoldering in the horizon. If Kambei-sama were here, he would urge them to go back into the caves. But the night is cool and so still and silent, Kirara can't imagine going back. She lies quietly at the mouth's edge, the youngest samurai curled up by her side.
xXx
.
"Do you miss him?" Katsushiro asks, and Kirara turns her head.
"What?"
"Sensei," he says. "You grieve for him, don't you?"
Katsushiro's eyes are sad. Kirara doesn't look at him. She stares at the crystal dangling delicately from her wrist.
"You've taken care of me, but you would be happier if it were him," Katsushiro says. "I am nothing but a burden to you. I only regret that I did not die in his place."
Kirara feels her face wrench. A tear slips, then another. "I'm sorry," Katsushiro says, and Kirara starts to cry.
Katsushiro says nothing. He holds her close and is mercifully silent. Kirara opens her eyes and sees him looking down at her, hurt and worried with bruises around his eyes. "Katsushiro," she says, and his thumb ghosts over the corner of her mouth.
The kiss that comes is gentle, his lips barely brushing against hers. His breath is warm and her lips are parted, and when he goes to kiss her she does not stop him. His kiss is soft and sad and entirely familiar, and she sighs, letting him roll her onto her back. She feels his weight resting on her hips and chest and she clings to him, not out of love but out of exhaustion and despair.
In the dim light, she lets him claw against her back, hands roughly palming her shoulders and pulling off her robe. She kisses him as she fumbles with the clasps, pushing up his shirt and the cloth between them. Her breath catches in her throat when he pushes up inside her, hard and thick and burying his face in her hair.
xXx
.
Later, she doesn't look at him. She's still naked, skin milk-white and flushed with shame. Katsushiro pulls on his shirt and avoids her eyes. "Did I hurt you?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "No."
xXx
.
Kirara watches as Katsushiro packs. He doesn't look at her. He moves clumsily, room to room, stuffing rice and meat into his knapsack and pulling his cloak tight around his arms. There was something Kambei told her once. Something she's struggled to forget. He and Shichiroji were sitting around the fire; Shichiroji was lonely and thinking of Yukino. He hadn't said anything, though: Kambei had read it in his eyes.
"This is why a true samurai cannot love," Kambei said. "The worry of causing our loved one pain. Shichiroji had given up his samurai life, and so he let his heart open again. But I tell you this, Katsushiro: it will only cause you pain."
"I wasn't thinking about him," Kirara says suddenly, and Katsushiro looks up. "I know that's what you think, and that's why you're leaving again, but I need you to know it's not true."
She watches Katsushiro's face, sees the rims of his eyes start to darken. "Katsushiro," she says. "Say something."
He sets the knapsack on the floor, his jaw tightening and blinking fast. "I wish I could believe you."
xXx
.
For the first time in a long time, Kirara wakes to see the sun rise. The sky is pale and overcast, and a thin watery light glances off the ruins of the capital. It is threatening to rain. Kirara shields her eyes and watches as the youngest samurai hitches up his pack. He moves slowly, as if underwater, tramping through the mud. She watches as his figure seems to be swallowed up in the distance, small and dark and fading into the mist.
Tomorrow, she will gather her things and make her way back to the Firefly House, where the lady Yukino will be quietly mourning. She will rest and regroup, and she will ask for her help, when she is able. Somewhere Katsushiro is making his way toward the city. Her crystal glows. She can find him again, she is certain of it.
The wind rises, and for once the smoke seems to dissipate into the air. Fires dim to a muted orange, and the sky opens up into a torrential downpour. She takes the crystal in her hand and prays, waiting for the storm to finally wash over.
A/N: this is an AU, obviously :)
This actually started out as an Ergo Proxy fic with Vincent and Re-L, but even though that anime was squarely more post-apocalyptic than Samurai 7 was, the dynamic between Re-L and Vincent didn't really play off how I wanted it, and it didn't seem very in-character. I ended up re-writing it as Katsushiro and Kirara, and I found the concept worked A LOT better - Katsushiro feeling like he's the reason why Kambei died, and Kirara grieving and maybe secretly thinking the same thing, made for really awesome storytelling. At least, I hope it did :)