A short moment spent side by side with Kyuzo hints Kambei about the resolute and mysterious past of the red-clad samurai. Two years after the war, Kambei finally meets the red-headed swordsmith who carries Kyuzo's shadow in her wake.

(1) Note! This is set two years after my S7 fanfic 'Red Bird'.

(2) Disclaimer! I don't own S7, etc.

(3) Note! I'll be using a different technique this time. Being in the middle of the school year, I don't have the luxury to write with one strike, and my writing fuels are limited. I'll be updating this short fic in chapters, then. There will be 4 chapters like this in total. I'm sure you get the picture.

(4) Note! This first chapter takes place during the time the Seven Samurai are getting ready for their first battle alongside Kana Village.

TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS

.a nice memory

They were trying to be brave.

And although they pretended more than they breathed through their hearts, the villagers of Kana village had succeeded in gaining Kambei's respect. He accorded it to them, although he knew just as the rest of the Samurai that things would unfold much more quickly than expected, and that bravery had to be maintained. Even if it was make-belief.

The dark-skinned samurai watched, crossed-armed, as the men of Kana village marched away to their different duties upon this bleary morning, maybe off to assist Sichiroji in putting up a defence or Heihachi with his witty plans for seemingly ingenious weapons, or maybe they were off to tremble under Kyuzo's impeccable glare. Kambei knew the villagers were scared, starved and doubtful. Weak and frail, too. But whatever had to be done had to be done quickly. It was not as if they had a grip over time, and tomorrow never knew. They had arrived in Kana village just a few days ago, but the Nobuseri could pop up impromptu style any time, and they were bound to discover that Samurai had arrived to patch things up soon enough, too.

Kambei exhaled and spotted Kyuzo a few paces away, always so straight and earnest, eternally cloaked of his red trench coat, his red gaze often shifting from an intimidating glare to a killing stare, depending on the turner of events and his own locked up thoughts. No one, not even Kambei, could properly picture what churned behind the blond swaying hair and crimson red eyes, although everyone knew it was better not to succumb to the temptation of prodding the samurai's limits.

Even now, within the team, Kyuzo was unattainable.

He might have joined and followed them, but Kambei knew that he, himself, was the sole reason Kyuzo was here, and that the blond would obey only if it brought him a step closer to their promised battle. The red-coated samurai was untameable, and Kambei knew that the end of the war would be his death. He had already whole-heartedly accepted that the younger samurai was far superior to him in skills. There was no question about who would win if they duelled with all the time of the world in their hands.

And thus he had taken upon a habit of staring at the blond man from the corner of his eyes. It was a habit born from this rare amount of curiosity he still possessed, even though the intrepid succession of adventures he had endured during his life had worn out the rest of it. Kyuzo's appearance had re-awakened a dormant interested of Kambei's, and there were days like these when the old samurai couldn't refrain the envy of trying to have a conversation with the younger warrior. He knew he could never disrupt Kyuzo's silent lifestyle, because then again it was what made Kyuzo such an excellent fighter; he was able to shush the qualms of the world around him and tear through them with impeccable sustaincy. Unaffected. Poised. Nothing in his gaze ever betrayed his emotions, but sometimes, just sometimes, Kambei thought he could detect something.

It often happened when they were having a discussion, among villagers or themselves; Kyuzo tended to stay apart from the circle of chatter (or simply not show up), leaning against something or sitting wherever he could, crossed-legged. His red eyes were fixed on the chatting people and his mouth stayed that same thin line, and it looked as if he was registering every single word and movement. Which he was probably doing. But there were times when Kambei could detect a certain… disinterest in his gaze. A lassitude that betrayed Kyuzo's partial or non-existant attention to whatever was being discussed, and sometimes, just sometimes, Kyuzo would look away. His head would tilt just the slightest, an imperceptible movement from afar, and his gaze would swivel down, unfocused, loosing itself to the thoughts in his head. Kambei wondered what exactly Kyuzo could be thinking about, and if perhaps the contents of his thoughts were joyful or not.

.

It's when the sky had turned to fire and cast smoky shadows over the rice fields that the Seven Samurai returned to Kanna village, each of them exhausted by the long day of work. They were exiting the forest, the lacework of leaves above them rattled by the warm wind. Kikuchiyo and Heihaci were walking in front, chatting loudly about whatever, the metal-clad samurai spicing up the conversation with his apparel of wide gestures and noise. Gorobei and Sichiroji were explaining something to Katsuhiro, the young warrior nodding solemnly, registering every bit of the words as if his life depended on it. Kambei was stuck between the two groups, walking alone and with his arms crossed, while Kyuzo was following in the back, as usual with a few paces separating him from the rest.

No one was paying attention to him except for Kambei, who could not resist staring at him from the corner of his eyes, his head slightly turned over his shoulder (he was pretending to be listening to Gorobei). Instead he was eying the blond samurai once again, and this time he wasn't certain why. He was surprised, though, when Kyuzo suddenly stopped, turned around and started walking back the way they had come, without anyone except Kambei noticing this change. The older Samurai kept on walking and turned his head to stare back at the red heads in front of him.

Later, when the sky had darkened, Kyuzo still wasn't back, although it was possible that he was but simply perched somewhere no one could spot him. Kambei walked out into the open, with the priestess popping her head out through the screen with an inquiring look.

"Do you need something, Great Samurai?" she asked, her large brown eyes blinking. She was a sweet girl, petal-faced and attentionate, but tonight Kambei sought someone else.

"Just going out for a walk. Don't worry about me, Kirara" he answered with a nod before walking away.

At night the forest was an entirely different kingdom, damped by sullen and peaceful silence. He wasn't certain where he was going or how he would find the red-coated samurai, but he kept on walking, finding the cliffs and keeping to them until he spotted a figure seated on a large boulder. Kambei took a step back, retreating back into the shadows. He leaned one shoulder against the trunk of the tree, eying Kyuzo from afar. There was no doubt the blond had one of the finest array of senses, but he'd call out (or rather send the tip of his blade) if he wanted Kambei to stop creeping on him. And thus the older samurai remained there, seemingly unnoticed.

Kyuzo was looking into the distance, the horizon traced by the last rays of the sunset. His blond hair was being swayed by the wind, and he sat erect, with one blade resting on his lap. Could he have been sitting like that ever since he reached the place? Kambei could only guess the younger samurai had come to watch the sunset. The spot was indeed perfect, opened above the vast sea of trees, no mountains rising to hide the horizon.

It seems you have a taste for fine things in life, Kambei thought with a little smile. He kept on watching until Kyuzo's fingers curled around the pommel of his sword and he lifted the blade in front of him. He twisted the blade around, as if examining it, and ran his fingers over the hamon. Carefully. Observing the dents in the blade, if there were any, but Kambei doubted that. Then, out of nowhere, a chorus of birds broke from the trees, surely frightened by whatever nocturne predator. The loud sound of their cackles startled Kambei, while the red-coated samurai simply looked up as the flock up bird passed over his head, one bird even clipping his shoulder. The reflection of their wings and flight flashed through his blade, and when he noticed it the red-clad warrior smiled.

It was a an unusual thing that of seeing Kyuzo smiling, even if that smile was more of a smirk, a gentle smirk still, and Kambei thought having imagined it all. It's not as if from this distance he could see clearly, and his eyes were getting old… But he felt compelled to take step forward, and the moment he did his feet crunched a few dead leaves on the ground. The red-clad samurai's head shot up and around, whatever smile having traced his lips vanished and his dark eyes piercing once again.

Kambei felt slightly guilty about intruding and destroying what could have been Kyuzo's sole moment of reflected personal happiness, but he clung tightly to the belief that maybe he could see more of just that, even if he respected the man's reclusive ways.

Kyuzo stared at him with his crimson orbs, no apparent expression crossing his face. The relaxed feeling in his limbs was gone, and he was once again the acute soldier taking notice of everything around him.

Kambei started towards the younger samurai, brushing up an apology in his head as he advanced. But Kyuzo didn't seem to really want one; he turned his head back towards the horizon and sheathed his sword in the pommel fastened to his coat. Kambei came to stand beside him silently, following his gaze to the line of trees and rice fields bellow.

Strangely, it seemed that tonight their fateful agreement, promise and deathwish didn't resonate much. They were but two comrades (at least Kambei liked to think they were comrades) enjoying the cool soiree. That's why Kambei decided to cut themselves some slack, and started on a topic very not related to their mission.

"I hope you sometimes have some nice things to think about, Kyuzo," he said. The red-clad samurai said nothing, but Kambei felt his body flinch a little bit, or rather, it was this kind of pulse that meant that some kind of answer he didn't want to share had crossed his mind. He went on, decided to taunt the matter a bit. It was a nice matter to discuss, one he seldom chose himself. "These pleasant things a man can remember sometimes do good to the heart. Nice memories." Kambei fixed his dark gaze on the blond man. "Was that a nice memory, just now?"

The wind whispered for an answer. Kyuzo's lips stayed shut as the same thin line he carried everywhere. Feeling slightly worn out, Kambei sat down beside the boulder with a sigh. He crossed his legs and arms and looked out towards the distance.

He wanted a bit more than usual to hear Kyuzo speak. Kyuzo always said the strict minimum, just everything that was necessary to go forth, but not much more. Kambei did not believe that the younger samurai had come to this point of his life with the same constant, barren expression. He must have, just like anybody else on this world, had friends, a family, people he cared for and people he betrayed and that had betrayed him in return.

Blank canvases did not exist, Kambei fervently believed. Kyuzo might have a clamped soul, but the illusion of that blank canvas was just that; an illusion.

Under that layer of white paint, surely there had to be streaks of black and red. And who knows what else.

"Why do you think we are doing this?" Kambei asked after a while.

"Doing what?" was the husky reply. Kyuzo had propped a leg and rested an arm over the knee, and he was looking a bit boredly over the cliff.

"Fighting, taking lives, defending people, defeating others." Kambei mused over his words a bit. "Sometimes I wonder if I could have been equally content with a little farm house and my own patch of rice to harvest."

"Because you are content?"

When Kambei turned his head to look at the other samurai he had a set of crimson eyes piercing into him, beneath a fringe of blond hair swaying gently in the breeze. There was no sign of mockery or disbelief in that red gaze, but Kambei couldn't help but ponder on the words. "Yes, I am content," he finally said. "Truth be told, I couldn't imagine myself staying idle when things like justice and freedom are so carelessly shredded."

"And for another truth to be told," Kambei continued, "I'm honoured to fight alongside men as talented as you."

Kyuzo didn't reply, only outstretched and contracted his fingers of the arm proper on his knee, as if he was discreetly trying to reach for something invisible and ethereal before giving up.

"Kyuzo."

"Hmm?"

"What will you do when the war will be over and you'll have my head on a platter?" Kambei asked with a sly smile.

"I'll leave."

"And go where?"

No response.

"Somewhere nice?"

"Perhaps."

"Does that memory belong to that somewhere? By the look you had on your face, it must be a nice place."

He didn't expect the red samurai to response, but surprisingly he did, and his voice was a scale softer than usual.

"It is a nice place."

They spent a few moments in silence, while Kambei thought about how his absence in Kanna must already have been noticed. Kyuzo's thoughts remained a secret.

"You didn't respond to my question. Why are you doing this?"

Kambei had slowly taken a wicked pleasure in questioning the red-samurai. The fact that Kyuzo was still seated on that boulder and not trailing away was a good sign.

"Why are you doing this?" Kyuzo retorted after a while.

"I told you, I care for justice and freedom."

"My reason isn't any more than that, either."

"Oh, you're such a liar, Kyuzo."

"So are you, Kambei."

A moment of silence. Then Kambei burst out laughing, and a tiny smile appeared on Kyuzo's face as well.

They didn't speak any more for a long time, allowing the halcyon night to envelope them like a blanket. It's when a call broke the silence of the forest that they both flicked their heads behind their shoulders.

"It is Kirara. She must be looking for us."

"For you."

Kambei slowly got to his feet, sighing and taking the opportunity to stretch.

The call came from the forest again, a soft sound stretched with a tone of worry.

"She will mourn you, when I am done with you," Kyuzo whispered.

The words took Kambei aback, and a soft, sad expression settled in his face. "Indeed, she probably will. Is there someone who will mourn you, Kyuzo, when you die one day?"

Again, Kambei didn't expect Kyuzo to answer. Instead he turned around and set out to find Kirara.

"There is only one person I'd want to be mourned by, but I'd prefer she not mourn me at all."

Kambei stopped in his tracks. Kyuzo was still seated on that boulder, and maybe he would remain there, perched like a bird, for the rest of the night.

"And who would that be, Kyuzo?" Kambei whispered. He heard an amused scoff, but the words he heard next were filled with an emotion he deciphered only a long time afterwards.

"Hair as red as autumn's leaves."

Kirara was calling.

He turned away.

The emotion was longing, but he didn't know that just yet.

.

It was true that it had never been a matter of who died, but of who died first. Kambei had heard these words many times on the battlefield, uttered from superiors, comrades and enemies; a mantra. He had been taught, just like any good soldier was taught, not to dwell too long on the bodies left behind. He couldn't after all carry them all, and if he did, he would drown under their weight.

But now, as he held Kyuzo's body in his arms and felt the spasms of pain rippling through the younger Samurai's limbs as if they were his own, he could not chase away the fervent, silent plea hitting against the barrier of his mind. You were supposed to finish me off. We made a promise. Everything is going wrong.

"But... do not forget... we still have a... score to settle..."

Kambei stared down in Kyuzo's red eyes. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen, damnit!

"I will never forget," Kambei managed to say, fighting against the desire to tell Kyuzo to shut up and hang in there. He kept his gaze glued to the crimson orbs, pressing the younger samurai's body tighter to his own. Of all the people who should have died…

"I'll be waiting..."

And yet, and yet! In this split moment when the surroundings around them were blowing up, roaring, screeching, Kambei could not manage with the part of himself that wanted to yell for Kyuzo to keep living, and the other that wanted to let him go with the proper promise of reunion.

And Kambei knew, as he looked at Kyuzo's pale moving lips, that even if the words he was uttering were addressed to him, that red gaze…

in Kanna..."

… was for someone else.

He felt Kyuzo's body heave one last time in his arms, and then those red eyes were seeing nothing at all.

"Soon, my friend, I will follow the same path," Kambei said at last, the words like blazing charcoal down his throat.

I hope it was enjoyed. More to come soon. :)