Ever since watching Samurai 7, I've been definitely thinking of writing a few stories on the anime. I noticed there weren't a lot (are there any? I'm not certain) of fanfictions that focused on Rikichi and Sanae. So I thought I'd write one! Well, I hope you enjoy it, though I will warn my readers now, there is a great possibility that my updates will be a little sporadic. Apologies for future tardiness.

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7. All I have is my personal interpretation of it.

Chapter One—Who We Were

Flying high on top of the thermals, a lone hawk soared in his natural element. Strong and fearless, he did not hesitate to swoop down through the sands of the desert, grasping at a small rodent before it could flee. He wheeled up higher and higher with his prey, wings spread as if to greet the sun above him. His meal wriggled weakly in his talons, unable to escape. He was at home.

His eyes immediately caught an unexpected sight which moved along the sands at a rapid speed that he could not match even with the winds on his side. He flew down in a lazy spiral to find a suitable place to feast on his dinner, all the while keeping an eye on the bright pink ship that sped quickly away. Landing on a rock warmed by the sun, he tore open the rodent's throat, engulfing red, stringy tendrils of flesh and muscle. It warmed his belly and instinct told him that he would survive another day. Satisfied with the way of the world, he was at peace and at home in this desert. The inhabitants on the moving ship never even saw him, except for one sharp-eyed man dressed in red that would have stood out plainly against the desert sands sitting in the back, who wouldn't have told anyone about the avian anyways.

At the front of the ship, a blonde-haired man grinned fiercely as he watched the land around him pass by faster than the eye could catch. Shichiroji relished the feeling of being in control of such a powerful vehicle; it brought back memories of his past travels and the wars in which he would wield similar machines with ease. Pulse beginning to increase, he could almost taste that blood and fear in the air. He was no sadist, but there was just something about being in the midst of battle that made him feel alive.

Down in the lower decks of the vessel, a woman sat in a darkened corner, away from the hustle and bustle that seemed to invade all other parts of this ship, her face shielded by long locks of dark greenish-grey hair. Her brown eyes were dulled with pain as she stared sightlessly at the ground, and she hugged her knees tightly against her chest, as if to become as small as possible. Another fit of despair had overtaken her while she had been with the other girls, and she had quickly rushed off to find a place to be alone. All she wanted now was to die. There was nothing in this world that could keep her here.

Not anymore.

As if in response to her feelings of despair, a hatch opened from above, and a set of stairs slowly descended. A pair of feet in well-worn sandals stepped down, followed by the body, and finally the head of brown hair that appeared red in the sunlight covered partially by a hat. Worried, light brown eyes gazed at the turned away figure as he clutched the side of the opening to keep himself steady on the forever-rocking ship. "Sanae? Are you feeling all right?" His voice was gentle, but with a hitch of pain as if it hurt him to speak to her.

The woman named Sanae did not respond to his question, merely tightening her grip on her knees and burying her head as closely as possible to her body.

He walked forward, stopping at her side but did not reach to make contact—hands kept firmly by his sides, though a finger or two twitched in wistfulness to touch her, to comfort her. But he knew he could not. So instead, he merely spoke again; a very small comfort, but it was all he could give her. "Sanae. Please."

Breathing as lightly as possible, Sanae chanted a prayer of love and devotion to her Amanushi in her head, wishing fervently that he was alive and near her. Anything to get away from this torture—this farce of marriage! She did still love the man who stood before her now. But it just wasn't the same. How could she describe the burning, passionate fire of love she had for Amanushi to a man whose love was a candle with very little wax left?

"Rikichi," was her whispered response, more of a sigh of breath than a word.

He felt himself unconsciously leaning forward to catch her words, but pulled himself back into a stiff upright pose. And with good reason, for the moment his shadow came a little closer to her, she shrunk closer to the wall.

She tried again to speak, voice crackling with pent-up emotion. "Rikichi. Please, just leave."

The words cut into him deeply, and his position resembled one of a puppet cut loose from its strings as he slumped back. Rikichi managed a weak shadow of a smile, and automatically tried to pat her on the shoulder as reassurance—that he could take this abuse.

"Don't!" Her voice rose sharply with panic, and he cursed himself inwardly for that habit-formed reaction. When they had been together, he had always reassured her with a comforting hand on her shoulder whenever she was upset. Her eyes were clenched shut with pain. He didn't know if it was the pain of him being there or the pain of remembering their lives together.

Turning away, he reluctantly moved towards the exit. He paused at the steps to glance back at the still form of his wife. She had not moved a muscle. Tears formed at the edge of his eyes, but he ruthlessly forced them back, knowing that they would not help. Nothing would.

"Sanae," he said quietly, voice quavering with longing and love that she would not accept nor give, "We'll be back in Kanna within a few days."

The broken woman had not looked at her husband once during that exchange of awkward words. She felt a wave of relief roll over her when the door closed completely, and she was once again in darkness. Only the rumbling of the working machine kept her company now. And she began to cry silently, mouth open in a maw of agony but no sounds emerged. Her hair created a shield around her from everyone else, and she felt safer alone. Hands more like claws clutched at her face, tears seeping through her thin fingers onto her clothing and the cold floor. The unfamiliar softness of her hands and face merely added to the unreality in which she was living. A farmer should be hardened by the winds and the labor—yet she showed no signs of the farmer she had once been. For her, it was just further proof that she and Rikichi were no longer meant to be.

How could she return to Rikichi? After everything that she had been through, after experiencing true love with her beloved deceased emperor—how?

The answer was plain to her, even if Rikichi didn't realize it yet: she could not.

At that moment, Rikichi had returned to the blinding light of the upper deck of the ship, and he held up one hand to shadow his eyes. He told himself firmly that the water that swelled in his eyes was from the rapid need to blink in the dry, hot air.

"Rikichi."

A tanned man clad in a white cloak moved closer to him with a serious expression on his face. His wavy, dark brown hair swept across his features in the wind as the ship moved rapidly through the desert. Even with the quick movements of the floor beneath him, he managed to stay completely balanced with an ease that Rikichi had always envied. The samurai always seemed able to adjust to anything. His eyes were always somewhat cold, weary and piercing, but the gentle tone in his voice belayed that fact.

"How is Sanae?"

The farmer managed a smile and bow to the samurai, composing himself. He wasn't surprised that the great man had known that he had gone to see her. "Kambei-sama. She..." he hesitated before continuing. "...she needs some time still."

Noting the pained expression in Rikichi's face, Kambei said nothing more about Sanae, changing the topic to a safer one. "Be prepared. The final battle is approaching, and we are counting on you to assist the villagers in war preparations."

"Yes Kambei-sama—"

The samurai cut him off before he could continue. "But," he said warningly. "But do not push yourself too far. You aren't useful to anyone if you don't let your ribs heal."

Rikichi unconsciously clutched at his side in remembrance of that accident, when he had tried to pull the trigger of the Nobuseri's enormous weapon. It had been a rash action, but well worth the morale boost it had given the other villagers. "Y-yes Kambei-sama," he murmured.

He was surprised when a white gloved hand clasped his shoulder firmly. Looking at Kambei, he saw a sympathetic, encouraging smile that he hadn't expected to ever see on the normally emotionless samurai. A minute later, Kambei walked away to speak with Shichiroji, and Rikichi bitterly thought of the way Sanae had reacted to his own, similar effort to comfort her.

Yet, that kind motion on Kambei's part did make him feel like there was still hope.

Sanae... He felt his heart lurch up in his throat, a pounding that crushed his attempts to breath, and he wondered if he was about to faint. The feeling faded after a few minutes of standing against a wall. Running one hand through his short hair, the man shook his head. He still loved her so much, but...

He cursed the Nobuseri, he cursed the Amanushi, he cursed his own weakness and fear. Thoughts rushed through his mind, tumultuous and whirling with such madness that he wondered if he would go mad: if only he had been stronger, if only he had been braver, if only he had been able to do something to keep Sanae from leaving!

Laughter and shouts could be heard on the other side of the ship, and he easily identified Kikuchiyo and Komachi by their voices. The priestess was probably with them as well. He shook his head slightly and moved to look for a quiet spot on the small vessel, away from everyone else. He found Kyuzo sitting at the back, away from the rest of their group. The blonde samurai did not turn to look at him, and Rikichi felt grateful that he did not have to converse with another well-meaning speaker. Not that Kyuzo was the type to try and comfort him.

Finally, he found a small corner of the ship unoccupied by anyone else. Able to lower the mask of calm that he did not feel and that he had tried to keep on around the others, he rested his body against the cold metal of the ship. He was in pain—the continuous rejection of Sanae was almost too much to bear.

Unseen by the rest of the crew, he slammed his fist against the wall and allowed himself to crumble into a helpless heap. "Damn it!" he hissed through his teeth, no longer able to keep the tears back.

His memory would not leave him be. He could still remember the relief and unbridled joy when he had been told that Sanae had been saved. Even at that moment, which he now remembered with agonizing irony, he had ignored the strange, hesitant looks on everyone's faces when they had told him.

He had rushed towards the closed door, so happy, so thankful that they could be reunited and get on with their lives. Together at last. "Sanae! Sanae!" To his surprise, there was no response from inside. He brushed his fear aside, almost tripping as he reached the door. He could finally make things right! They could be together again!

"Sanae, it's me, Rikichi!" Love throbbed in his voice.

"Don't come in."

Those cold, tearful words kept him from sliding the door open. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. His hands began to shake as he touched the door, slowly sliding down to his knees. "Sanae...Sanae. Please. Open the door." He knew that if she willing opened the door for him, it would mean that everything was all right.

"Sanae!" he shouted loudly, to no avail.

But she wouldn't. She wouldn't open it for him.

Emotions roiling, his memory was relentless as he recalled every little detail of their meeting—the way she could not look at him when he finally made his way into the room, the way her eyes lit up with love for another man, the shame (the ever-present shame!) that coiled within his guts and would not leave him be. Every night so far, he had awakened with a horrible feeling in his throat and tears in his eyes. It was beginning to affect him, in the way he moved around the others as well as the way that he looked. Bags had begun to form under his eyes, deeper and darker than ever before. He brushed it off as an inability to sleep in such an unfamiliar place, though he had slept fine when they had first gone into the city.

And in two different areas on the vessel, two separated lovers cried with no one to comfort them. Both cried for love lost. One love was dead: soul gone to the next world. The other love was alive: soul gone to the next world.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I have a feeling it may be a rough ride for Sanae and Rikichi. Thanks for reading!