Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the pointlessness of this story.
Pairing: Kanbei/Kyuuzo—but if you wanna be boring, you don't have to see it that way.
Setting: Years after the series ending. Everyone's older.
Red Reminders
Shimada Kanbei knew today was the day.
He woke from a deep sleep, feeling somewhat weightless; it was a sort of peacefulness he had not experienced before. Today was a good day. He had taken shelter underneath an old tree the night before and the leaves had fallen down, sticking to his clothes. They were the color of autumn: pale yellow, cheerful orange, solid brown. Then something disturbed his hair. He reached up and found a leaf. This one was brilliant crimson.
Oh, that's right... he thought absentmindedly, detangling the red leaf from his white-gray hair. The wind suddenly picked up, making small, irate whirlpools along the ground.
"Don't worry," Kanbei sighed as he stood up, sword in hand. "I have not forgotten."
He made his way to Kanna Village. He hoped his old friends hadn't forgotten him either.
o – o – o
"Kanbei-sama! It's been a while, ne, ne, Kanbei-sama?" hands that weren't as small as he remembered grabbed his arm and pulled him uphill towards the water shrine. Despite having grown several inches in height, Komachi's lively exuberance had not aged.
"Oi, Okana, get the man some rice and sake! Quit smiling like that and just do it! Mou!"
Her attitude hadn't changed much either. The water priestess continued to pull him along, chittering happily about the village life, the new trading route, the traveling circus; just about all things bright and beautiful in general. At the top of the hill, Kanbei stopped in front of the shrine; he turned his head and past acres of flourished rice fields, he saw four familiar relics perched on a cliff.
His gray eyes narrowed with a smile. "I can tell they were recently polished. Who did such a fine job?"
"Waaah...you can see that all the way from here? Your eyes are as sharp as ever, aren't they! And here I thought you turned into a senile old man!" Komachi exclaimed. She stood beside him, facing the same direction. "Last week, a blacksmith from the city got lost and passed through our village. In return for a day's rest, he said he would make them shine like new. It took him all afternoon, but he did what he promised. Hee hee, he had a little trouble with Kiku-sama's though!"
"I'm happy to see you've continued to take great care of them. Thank you, Komachi. I know they are very grateful."
Though her smile remained, her eyelashes lowered and the color of her irises darkened to a deep claret-brown. "It's the least this village can do. We will always be indebted to their sacrifices. And yours. In fact," her smile suddenly turned mischievous, "you're quite the celebrity here, samurai-sama! We heard about what you did for that mountain village. The kids wanna hear stories from the hero tonight! If you came to Kanna just to rest, forget about it. It's all late-nighters and parties from here on out!"
Kanbei returned the smile, though it looked like a great contrast to her own. "All right. But only tonight."
o – o – o
The children of this particular generation were shamelessly expressive and didn't seem to fear anything. They tugged on his haori and hakama, laughed loudly, spoke frankly, and one was audacious enough to braid a section of his long, white hair. And they kept asking him to tell the story of the Seven Samurai, even after he finished re-telling it a third time. Heihachi and Kikuchiyo proved to be the "coolest!" and "awesomest!" among the peasant children.
"Samurai-sama! We have a favor to ask of you!" two boys bowed deeply to him. "But all we can offer you is this," in their hands were three wooden toys and seeds.
Kanbei decided to play along. "I accept. Now what is your request, young master?"
"Get rid of the red ghost! Onegai shimasu!"
"Yeah, get rid of it, get rid of it! It always—"
The bold girl, who had braided Kanbei's hair, suddenly stepped up and shouted at the boy. "Stop calling him an IT! Just because he's a ghost doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings, nii-chan! And he's a samurai, too, you know! Just like ojii-sama here! So you better start calling him ghost-sama or else! I saw him last week and—"
"Oh shut up, Tomei! And what did I tell you about looking for him! Ghosts eat little, stupid girls like you! The red ghost is no different. And if anything happens to you, Okaa-san's gonna kill me!"
"Ghost-sama doesn't even take the rice I leave him! He would never eat me!"
"Yeah he would!"
"Nah uhh!!"
The children argued loudly amongst themselves. And they didn't notice the expression on the old samurai's face.
o – o – o
"Are you sure you don't wanna stay? It's really cold and windy now. Doesn't a nice, warm futon sound so much better?" Komachi asked, speaking as sweetly and cutely as she could. She watched the old samurai methodically sharpen his sword. Of course, it wasn't the signature sword she remembered—Kanbei had given that one to Katsushiro years ago. This sword was plainer, simpler. But he sharpened it with such care that she thought it was a masterpiece for a moment.
"That is not necessary. I'll be leaving tonight. Thank you for your kindness, Komachi."
"...maa, maa...can't you stay for one more night? Just one more? Nee-san is in the other village, but she'll be back by tomorrow afternoon. She'll be so happy to see you again..."
Kanbei poured water along the blade, catching the reflection of Komachi's dowsing crystal. It was glowing a very weak, pale blue. "You know I cannot stay any longer. Please stop asking me."
There was a long moment of silence, just like a calm before a storm.
Suddenly, the water priestess shot up in an angry huff, glaring down at him. "You're a samurai! You can do anything you want to if you just try! So—s-so...!" her voice weakened when the old samurai stood up and sheathed his sword in one smooth, decisive motion.
Kanbei turned around, ready for the impact of Komachi's embrace. He stood there quietly, one hand on her shoulder to steady her heavy sobs. Her brown hair brushed just below his chin and he realized how much taller, how much older, she had grown. She was no longer the little girl perched on Kikuchiyo's shoulder. A resigned, fatherly sorrow settled in his chest at the thought. He patted Komachi's shoulder when she calmed down.
He whispered words of farewell, wishes of good fortune, and left.
o – o – o
Kanbei placed four cups in front of their graves. He poured sake in Gorobei's first, then Kikuchiyo's (he let the sake overflow, knowing the boisterous samurai would appreciate having a little more), then Heihachi's (along with six onigiri). He settled down in front of Kyuuzo's and poured both of them their share. He stared at the gleaming edges of the twin swords. They were indeed shined and sharpened to perfection, all thanks to the fortuitous visit of the lost blacksmith.
Kanbei smirked, pondering the occasional kindness of fate.
"You know, ghost-sama," Kanbei sipped his sake, eyes light with humor, "you're scaring the children by waiting here. Your patience is as frightening as it is admirable."
Kanbei caught a glimpse of red—like a sweep of long fabric—but it was just fallen leaves riding the wind. He closed his eyes, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Then he talked to his comrades since he had not done so for quite some time. The sake seemed to cast a warm stone blanket over his waking life...Shimada Kanbei soon fell silent, drifting off to a dreamless sleep.
- o -
When Kanbei awoke, he was lying on his side, his hair outstretched in front of his face like spilt ink. He stared at the long locks for a moment. And noticed his hair was not white—it was a rich shade of brown that should have faded with his youth years ago. He felt the warmth of bright sunlight on his skin—but when he stood up and looked at the sky, he saw no sun. He placed a hand on his face and felt no signs of age. He inspected his hands and saw no wrinkles, no scars, no tattooed reminders of the Great War...
Then something disturbed his hair. Dazedly thinking it was a stray leaf, he reached up to take it out—only to come in contact with warm slender fingers. Instead of jumping away, something told him to stand his ground. The warmth slipped away and Kanbei turned his head to follow it—
And found brilliant crimson eyes gazing at him. The intruding, pale hand was delicately holding a single, thin braid in Kanbei's long mane; it bridged the distance between the two samurai.
Kanbei broke eye contact first to look upon the pink string at the end of his braid. "It was a gift from your admirer, ghost-sama."
"Hnn." A blond eyebrow arched upwards and the braid was released. His pale hand joined the other to rest on the hilts of polished twin swords. They regarded each other in solemn silence; a ritual two warriors always perform before engaging in a deciding battle.
But then Kanbei simply laughed, smiled, and said, "Hisashiburi da ne. Kyuuzo-dono."
And Kanbei was convinced that this really was the afterlife when Kyuuzo—free from conflicting, heavy, earthly emotions and obligations—smiled easily and warmly in response.
E.n.d.
Yeah, pointless and boring story, I know! Well, I tried to make some sort of happy ending while sticking with the sucky series' ending...I had to have some sort of closure! But I bet this story just frustrated you readers even more, huh:insert please-have-mercy smile: I hope their characters didn't seem too off.
Please leave your thoughts!
Glossary
Hisashiburi da ne – it's been a long time, hasn't it.
Onegai shimasu – please
Haori – coat that goes over a kimono
Hakama - a very wide pair of pants, pleated, and traditionally worn only by men.