Disclaimer : Samurai 7 and all its wonderful characters belong to the great Akira Kurosawa and of late his estate. I only play in his playground and not for profit.
Thanks again go to EK for some background information on the characters from her wonderful site "Will Work for Rice"
Full Circle by Zan
After all this time, he had expected not to outlive his best friend. That he did do so was a miracle in and of itself. Shichiroji's passing was peaceful. Yukino was sad but had expected it. His friend had already been ill awhile. The two young girls mainly took after their mother, but had their father's cheekiness that had endeared him to all he knew. After the funeral was over, Kanbei took his leave of them and returned to the one place left that had anyone left to remember him.
He knew the lookouts would have warned them of his arrival so he was not surprised to see a young woman standing on the path to the village waiting for him. Had it already been fifteen years? Since the first time Kanbei left Kanna Village without his katana.
"Kanbei-sama it is nice to see you after so long"
"Mikumari, it is good to see you healthy and in good spirits"
"Kanbei-sama, you know I have not been Mikumari now for a long time"
"I am afraid you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. Some habits die hard."
"I am sorry for your loss. We shall miss him too."
They walked along in a companionable silence for some moments.
"I am sorry to burden you but would it be alright to stay here awhile."
"Kanbei-sama, you know you don't even have to ask. Our doors here are always open to you."
The former water maiden whispered very softly into the wind, "my door is always open to you."
He stopped walking and cast a sidelong glance at her.
"Is it seemly for a village elder to be speaking so?" Trying to lighten the air a little, the gentleman continued, "Although, you are the youngest village elder I have ever met."
Kirara tinkled lightly in laughter, "yes after grandmother died there was a village meeting and the vote was embarrassingly unanimous."
"Is Komachi still the Mikumari now?"
"Yes, and she is better at it than I was."
"I am sure that is not true."
"She has her feet firmly planted in the ground and in the soil around here. I was always looking somewhere else, looking for something more."
"You are just both different people. Even if you had the same job you do it in your own way."
The woman wondered if the older man was referring to some other folk, they both had known. She dismissed the thought.
"Komachi and I would be honoured if you stayed with us."
"Thank you."
…
He was at the Water Priestess' house. He was glad that it was slightly apart from the main village. He was resting in the part of the house that would be his quarters for the time being, thinking and reminiscing.
The swords hung upon the wall where the ancestors' shrines were, had once upon a time rested in the soil in a clearing on a hill overlooking the village. They were taken out of the ground to keep them safe from the elements and in case, anyone decided to take a souvenir. He stood in front of the altars andhe looked at each sword in turn. There was Gorobei's straight katana with the tasselled hilt, the gently curved slim twin swords with the medium points that belonged to the Red Jacket, Heihachi's slightly broad one with the weather doll, and the heftiest serrated big sword that belonged to Kikuchiyo, the mecha-warrior with the peasant upbringing and the heart of samurai. Hung alongside the swords was the banner, Komachi and Kirara had made for them to go into battle with. Certainly, a rag tag collection of samurai if ever there was one. Yukino had Shichiroji's spear, making only Katsushiro's sword and his sword the only ones not up on the wall. Kanbei hoped that the young man was looking after both the weapons and himself well.
Kanbei fished out from a pouch a right hand glove, which may have been white once. He contemplated the bloodstain, on the palm-side, now dried to a dark mud brown colour. He could not remember now, if he had tried to wash out the grisly discoloration, or if he had left it there on purpose. Kanbei had not forgotten that he had one more promise to keep. He did not need a reminder, but still it was a keepsake of a time, an era and a way of life long gone.
He was still holding the glove when a soft knock on the door broke his reverie. He looked up.
"Kanbei-sama how are you?" a merry voice greeted him.
"Well, look how you've grown." There was a resemblance to Kirara, but the young woman Komachi was had a cheekiness, which Kirara did not. It seemed a paradox then, Komachi was the more grounded Water Priestess and Kirara always dreamed of the world outside the village.
"Thank you, I think." Komachi laughed. "I was happy to hear you came and that you will stay with us for a while."
"Yes, I hope this old man doesn't get in your way too much."
"Don't worry; I'll give you things to do."
Kanbei smiled at Komachi.
"Well, kind sir I will leave you once again with your thoughts. The life of a Water Maiden is a busy one. Especially, during festival days. Tanabata is only round the corner."
"I was not aware of that."
"I hope you will join us in the festivities" Komachi winked at him.
"At this age and stage in life I won't know what I would wish for."
"Kanbei-sama, I will give you some parchment and a pen. I am sure you will think of something." The Water Maiden cheerily piped over her shoulder as she slid the door shut.
…
The seasons passed. Harvests came and went. The dragonflies hatched and matured, flying lazily amongst the reeds. A lone figure stood in a clearing on a hill, where stood also four mounds. It was peaceful up here, where the ageless man liked to take a walk and meditate. The grey eyes were wise and sharp, the once thick lustrous mane was almost white now, the body was not as fast as it once was and thinner too. The posture was still upright and his steps were still nimble enough. Always accompanied by the village elder. The Water Maiden said her mother would laughingly call Kanbei-sama the Elder's consort. They never married but she never left his side. The Elder, said he was her advisor. That was all there was to it.
One winter, it seemed that the old man was feeling the cold more, he had to use a walking stick these days and just sometimes, there was the feeling that he did not see the present anymore. Though the eyes were still clear, they looked far away. To an age where the side of right fought and died by the sword. Where, honour and life intertwined and were inseparable as with the skill with which one wielded their katana. Even so, he who survived those now was glad of the life he lived, without regret. Without regret, now soon he would see them again. The Elder often watched when he would unconsciously feel for the pouch at his waist. She knew of the right hand glove, which sat in it. Sometimes she did not know whether to curse or give thanks to the Scarlet Samurai. Even after all the water that had flowed under the bridge. After all this time.
It was just after another harvest. The rice was bountiful that year, and the taste of it was full, sticky and sweet on the tongue. The Water Maiden was up at dawn and at her ancestors' shrine in prayer. She noticed the darkening and the stilling of the crystals in her dowsing pendant. Passed on down to her from the previous generation. She ran toward her home.
"Mother, wake up, mother. I think something has happened to Kanbei-sama,"
"Mm," Komachi rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What is it Sumiyo?"
"I think it is time."
"Kanbei-sama?" Komachi's daughter nodded mutely. "Come on let's go then."
After getting dressed, Komachi and Sumiyo hurried to the Elder Kirara's home. They skipped the niceties of knocking, and looked for Kirara.
They found her kneeling by Kanbei. He was still, his face ashen with weakness and fever. Lying down and covered with a blanket. Kirara moved as she dipped a small square of cloth into a bowl of cool water. She wrung it out and placed it over his brows. The Water Maiden and her mother sat respectfully behind the Elder.
"Well, it seems I get to keep my promise at last."
"Sh… don't speak. Rest." The Elder face etched with sorrow.
"I hope he will not be too angry for keeping him waiting so long." Kanbei whispered.
"I am certain; he will not say aught either way." Kirara said softly recalling Kyuuzou's dislike of speech.
"I wish I had my katana with me." Kanbei said wistfully.
"Did you bring it?" Kirara asked as she turned to face her sister.
Komachi nodded and handed over an item wrapped in soft white cloth tied with string. Kirara took it from her and undid the knot in the string. Unfolding the cloth to reveal the thing hidden inside. Reverently she laid the weapon along the left side the fading warrior, brought his right hand gently over and clasped it over the hilt.
"How… how did this come to be here?" Kanbei's eyes widened in surprise, as he felt the familiar grooves and hilt under his fingertips.
"Some years ago, Katsushiro sent this along." Kirara recounted.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it was important." She lied. The Samurai and the Elder exchanged a long look. For a moment, he was once again Kanbei-sama, Taisho of Kanna Village Fortress, and she, the Mikumari.
"Did Katsushiro say anything of himself?" Looking away, Kanbei asked.
"The letter which came with the sword said that he had no need of it any longer. That he was fine and we need not worry about him." Kirara said.
"That is fine then." Kanbei once more looked up into the Elder's eyes. "Thank you."
"I am sorry I was not more for you, and could not do more for you." Tears were now filling the Elder's eyes.
Kanbei reached up to touch her cheek. "That is not true. You persevered, adapted and managed to find an oasis in this old desert. Please do not be sad. It is I who should be sorry." For all the things, he never said.
The former Kirara shook her head as she tried to brush her tears away. "I am glad you came back. That is all."
"Mikumari-sama" with a deep labouring breath, Kanbei looked for Sumiyo.
"I am here Kanbei-sama" the young girl moved forward so that he could see her.
"Look after your mother and your Aunt." He charged her.
"Yes sir, of course I will."
"Please do not be sad for me. I have no regrets that our paths crossed. You were, all, brave souls." He looked upon Kirara, "I have a last request."
"Hush, now. I know it and it will be done."
"That is fine then. I take my leave of you now, for I have a promise to keep."
The silence enveloped them. A soft breeze blew through the house, and the shadows shortened, as the sun climbed higher in the sky. The three sat quiet and watched as the shadows grew long again. The sun danced and dappled the forest floor as the wind played with the leaves on the trees. The water wheel creaked in its slow revolutions as the river water flowed on its course, cool and clear.
Sumiyo stood up, ever her mother's daughter, decisively said, "Well, we cannot sit here forever. I will go and see to the arrangements."
…
Suddenly he is himself again ageless. He wears his white gloves; he is wearing his white cloak. White? He investigates his gloves, white, pristine, as on the day he first got them. His step is light and he does not feel any ache in his body.
He follows a path, after a time he falls in step with his partner of old, in his familiar red trousers and yellow shirt with the lavender longer over shirt. They meet up eventually with the big-hearted mecha. For a change, he is quiet. Kanbei leads the way, Shichiroji walks next to him and Kikuchiyo follows. They are walking and Kanbei cannot remember when Heihachi joined them but he is there at their backs speaking with the metal warrior. Then Kanbei stops. Just ahead of him now stand two figures. One is wearing a crimson overcoat belted in just above the hips, the owner of blond and mussed-up hair. The other is slightly taller than the Red-jacket, in an asymmetric olive-green and yellow overcoat. They contrast in that day-and-night way, of being pale and dark; and being all smiles and none. Kanbei continues walking until he is about a foot away from the two samurai. Kanbei gives Kyuuzou a once over and nods in approval.
Meanwhile Kyuuzou looks at him from under his bangs disdainfully, "You're late."
…
On a hill overlooking a village, five mounds now top the rise. There are four, which have soft grass growing over them, yet tended carefully so that weeds do not cover it. There is one, which is still soil, and someone has left purple flowers in a hollow bamboo vase with a little water. It is peaceful and restful here.
…
Owari.
Again I humbly apologise in that as usual, nothing of note happens. Just a quiet life.