Disclaimer:
I own nothing, am making no money from this and am doing it purely for enjoyment.Chapter 25
The rain fell over the quiet village in heavy sheets, the dark clouds casting the afternoon into premature twilight and suiting the subdued mood of the inhabitants perfectly. Things had been quiet and serious for three days now - the celebrating of their victory cut to a swift end when the samurai had returned and the price for their freedom was known to all.
Today had been the first day that Shichiroji had ventured out of the samurai's sleeping quarters since their return. Katsushiro, Kirara, Gorobei and Kikuchiyo had all tried coaxing him out but he'd refused. Heihachi had spent a great deal of time with him during those three days, he'd wander in looking pale and drawn and just stay for a while. No questions or pity or words of comfort, he'd just plop down, sometimes just for a few minutes, other times for most of the day or night. Shichiroji understood, Heihachi had a mind that never stopped, he couldn't lapse into the blank spaces like Shichiroji could, so he'd go and find something to occupy his thoughts for a while.
It had been Heihachi that had finally convinced him to leave the confines of the hut before he lost his sanity. Quietly pointing out that he'd end up taking out his anger on the villagers soon if he continued to stew in there. His insight was once again impressive and Shichiroji wondered if the younger samurai felt the same as he did - irrationally angry and bitter toward the villagers even though he knew intellectually that they couldn't be blamed for what had happened.
Conceding that the dismal interior of the hut was only exacerbating his foul mood and dark thoughts, he'd set off across the village, intent on getting something to eat. He'd had to admit, the fresh moist air and the wash of cold rain had been refreshing at first. But then he had run into Katsushiro and Kirara while getting his food and their earnest smiles at seeing him out and about had pissed him off. He'd ignored their attempts at conversation and when a few other villagers had wandered in, he'd left - unable to trust his increasingly short temper around them.
Now as he stepped back out into the pouring rain, a sense of anxiousness pervaded his senses. Turning back toward the samurai's sleeping quarters, he strode quickly down the waterlogged path, small plumes of water splashing up from the puddles he tread through, his gait heavier than normal.
What if something had happened while he was gone?
What if they woke and he wasn't there?
What if they…
He shook his head violently, not willing to entertain that thought. It had persistently invaded his thoughts again and again over the last few days, but he'd managed to continue to push it away. But the more time that passed, the harder it was to ignore that pessimistic little voice.
When they'd left the Capital, he'd taken them straight to the Shikimoribito, thinking they'd be able to help. While he'd been right about the 'able', he hadn't thought about the 'willing' part. Between Kyuzo's threatening actions the last time he'd been there and the news they'd just received about the downfall of the Capital, the Shikimoribito been opposed to lending any assistance - not willing to risk any negative attention in this unstable political time. If whoever came to power next was sympathetic with Ukyo, the revelation that the Guardians had helped his assassins would be disastrous for them.
While Shichiroji had understood their point of view on a rational logical level, it didn't stop the disbelief and rage from bubbling forth. Surprisingly, Heihachi was the one that flew off the handle first. Shichiroji had momentarily been shocked out of his own anger at the image of Heihachi, blood soaked and furious drawing his sword and advancing on the Shikimoribito with killing intent. After much yelling (and threatening) the Shikimoribito had finally given in and agreed to treat the two samurai if they agreed to leave immediately afterwards. Relieved, Shichiroji had agreed, thinking that although moving Kambei and Kyuzo could possibly be detrimental to their recovery, it was better than them dying then and there while they argued.
In the end, it hadn't really mattered. The damage done was extensive, and even after repairing it, hope for recovery was low. Of course, Shichiroji had regretted his agreement to take the two injured samurai and leave then, knowing there would be nothing he or Heihachi could do should they take a downward turn. Heihachi had suggested finding Ayamaro and using him to find suitable medical care. Kyuzo had saved the man's life after all, it was the least he could do. But the Shikimoribito insisted there was nothing more anyone could do, they needed quiet and rest, only time and their will to live would determine their fate at that point.
Unwilling to take the risk of staying in the city, they'd made the decision to go back to Kanna. So far there'd been no change. At first, Shichiroji was grateful, worried that moving them as they had would cause some kind of relapse, he was relieved when it caused no harm. But as the days wore on, the lack of improvement was weighing more heavily on his heart and hope was slipping away.
Rounding a corner, he saw Heihachi leaning against the outside of the hut and cocked his head to the side in confusion. The only reason he'd left was because Heihachi had promised to stay and watch over the two unconscious samurai himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust the others, it was just that he knew Heihachi also felt the same protectiveness over them that Shichiroji did. They'd been through hell together and he felt strongly bonded to the short samurai now.
Maybe there's no reason for him to be in there anymore. No one to watch over…
The thought made his breath stutter and his steps stall. But the relaxed slouch of Heihachi's body and the slightly amused look on his face assured him that wasn't the case. As he got closer, he could hear a low echoing voice coming from inside. He leaned against the outside wall next to Heihachi, uncaring of the water that soaked him as he listened.
"-and then Katsushiro turned bright red and started to chase him, but he tripped over Komachi and pulled his stitches! Kirara yelled at him for an hour!"
Heihachi snorted softly next to him and he couldn't help the small smirk that crept onto his own features. This wasn't a rare occurrence, Kikuchiyo had come by numerous times and just sat and talked to the injured samurai, claiming they might be able to hear him and "might" was good enough for him. Shichiroji didn't say anything about it, but he also didn't admit that sometimes he did the same thing. His was for a more selfish reason though, talking to Kambei simply made him feel better whether his old friend could hear his words or not.
"…we should have been there," he heard Kikuchiyo continue after a brief stretch of silence. His words were quieter now, the previous good humor swallowed by sadness and guilt. "We saw the smoke, you know. It was pretty far away, but we could still see it. I wanted to go… But Gorobei and Katsushiro said it could be a diversion. I should have went anyway…"
"Then you would have been disobeying my orders."
Shichiroji and Heihachi's heads snapped up at the gritty quiet voice.
"K-Kambei!"
Both the soaking wet samurai lunged for the door at the same time, almost getting wedged there in the process before stumbling hastily into the dim interior.
"Kikuchiyo. A little space please," Kambei muttered from his prone position where Kikuchiyo was hovering directly over him.
"You're awake! Are you okay? Do you need-"
"He needs you to get out of his face before you smother him," Shichiroji snarled, jerking Kikuchiyo back.
Kambei's eyes were wide with surprise when Shichiroji met his gaze, "What's your problem?" He asked in bewilderment.
Shichiroji froze, his body locking down at the conflicting emotions as he tried to decide whether to cry or punch the bastard. Unable to pick one, he just sagged to his knees next to his friend, his chin dropping to his chest and his hands clenching as he tried to calm down.
"Shichiroji?" He heard his friends concerned voice, but didn't look up.
"Just… just give him a minute."
A surge of gratitude went through him at Heihachi's words, glad to have a second to regroup.
"Wh-what," a dry cough interrupted his question, causing him to shift in what Shichiroji assumed was pain. "What happened?"
"You went and got yourself shot! That's what happened! We all thought you were gonna die, you ass!" Kikuchiyo's loud voice echoed through the small room, causing Shichiroji to flinch both from the volume and the memory of Kambei's limp blood drenched figure the blunt statement brought forth.
"Kikuchiyo, why don't you go get Kambei some water and something to eat?" Heihachi's request was said calmly, but Shichiroji could hear the underlying intensity. Apparently, Kikuchiyo did as well, because he clamored out of the hut with only a few muttered complaints.
Finally feeling his wild emotions simmer down into something more manageable, Shichiroji looked up to see Kambei staring directly at him with confused furrowed brows. He shook his head and wasn't able to stop the wide grin that spread across his face.
"Damn, it's good to see you awake…"
Heihachi laughed slightly, "Yeah, you've been out for three days. This one," he nodded in Shichiroji's direction, "was like a rabid momma bear. If you'd taken any longer to wake up, I think he would have started foaming at the mouth."
Shichiroji narrowed his eyes in mock offense, his levity coming back with his relief. "Like you can talk, Mr. Angsty Woodsman," he fired back, causing a light blush to spread over Heihachi's cheeks.
"Shot?"
Both their attention was drawn back to Kambei as he stared at the ceiling obviously trying to remember what had happened, one hand plucking at the blanket covering him and the other absently rubbing over his stomach where the healing wound lay under a swathe of bandages. Shichiroji could tell the exact moment when memory reasserted itself, Kambei fell completely still, even his breathing stopped.
Then he ratcheted up into a sitting position with a gasped, "Kyuzo!"
Shichiroji jumped forward and grabbed his shoulders, gently easing him back down as he panted in pain and looked around wildly, his hands gripping the soaked material of Shichiroji's shirt.
"He's right over there, calm down," he said, his voice soothing while inside the dread started to build again.
Kambei's head swung to the side, searching for the blond samurai. Heihachi sighed quietly and stepped aside, revealing Kyuzo's still form a few feet away. Kambei's eyes fell on him heavily and he stilled again, just watching, seemingly focusing on the rise and fall of the other man's chest. After a few minutes, he dragged his gaze back to Shichiroji, his face pale, his eyes somber and firm.
"What happened?"
Settling himself into a more comfortable seated position, he prepared to tell Kambei that Kyuzo might not wake up.
His head was pounding, his mouth was dry and his stomach was radiating out streaks of pain throughout his body, but none of that mattered as he waited on Shichiroji to fill in the blanks. But just as he opened his mouth, Kikuchiyo came in, followed by Gorobei, Kirara, and Katsushiro. He didn't miss the look of relief that flashed over his friends face at the interruption.
They piled in, all sporting large smiles and telling him how great it was that he was awake as Kikuchiyo boasted that it was him that had woken Kambei. Judging from their reactions, he guessed he must have been in bad shape for a while. It made him worry about Kyuzo's condition even more. As did the furtive glances of concern they all occasionally shot over at the blond samurai when they didn't think he was watching. Kambei was about to force Shichiroji back to the subject when he was distracted by water.
Glorious water…
It was lukewarm and Kirara would only let him take slow sips but it was the best thing Kambei had ever tasted. She also brought a bland soup, but after only about a quarter of the bowl, his stomach started shifting uneasily. She seemed to anticipate this though and just said she'd bring another bowl back in a couple hours to try again.
Eventually, they seemed to realize Kambei had questions and all but Shichiroji and Heihachi excused themselves with a multitude of well wishing and promises to visit later. His eyes felt heavy and his body was warm and comfortable despite the continued ach in his stomach, but he wasn't going to let himself fall asleep yet. According to Heihachi he'd already been out for three days, he wasn't going any longer without knowing Kyuzo's condition. He turned an expectant gaze on Shichiroji and waited.
Knowing what his friend wanted, Shichiroji sighed and began talking.
"Both of you had severe internal injuries," he started. "Kyuzo also had swelling around his spine from the exit wound, a mild concussion, a broken wrist and some muscle damage in his arm." Kambei closed his eyes at the news, his chest tightening. "All the damage has been repaired. The Shikimoribito were… less than hospitable, but they fixed the two of you up before booting us out."
"So he's fine then?" Kambei asked darkly, sensing Shichiroji wasn't telling him everything and wanting him to get to the point.
"No, not exactly. His injuries have been tended to as well as they could," he said haltingly. "There's nothing left they could do for him."
Kambei's eyes snapped open at that particular choice of words.
"But they said that about you, too," Heihachi added in quickly, seeing the panic on Kambei's face. "It's just a matter of giving him time and rest."
That only made him feel marginally better. He hadn't had a head injury or an exit wound.
"So, we just have to wait?" He asked, his voice tight with helplessness. This was his fault, he should have been paying more attention, noticed the shooter first. If he'd been more careful Kyuzo wouldn't have put himself in the path of that bullet. It ate at him that he'd caused this and couldn't do anything to remedy it.
"Yeah," Heihachi said quietly. "He's healing, though. And Kyuzo's strong."
There was a confidence in Heihachi's soft voice that eased his anxiety a little, but as he glanced over at Kyuzo, still and pale a few feet away, he felt a rush of fear. It had already been three days, how much longer could he live in that state?
It was finally over, they could rest now. Be free to enjoy each other. It couldn't end now, not like this.
First it was Kambei's snoring. Then, when that stopped, it was him and Shichiroji talking. Then Kikuchiyo showed up and clanged about and yelled for a while. Finally, just as Kyuzo decided he was going to kill someone no matter how much his body complained about the thought of moving, it went blissfully silent.
For about thirty seconds.
There was a grunt, followed by a shuffling sound then the smell of rain and incense and the warmth of another body very close. Kyuzo sighed tiredly in his mind as he felt his right hand wrapped in a larger one and gave up on his wish of going back to sleep.
"I'm sorry," Kambei's low voice came from above and to the side. Kyuzo pried his eyes open slowly, unable to get them past half-mast, and observed Kambei with slightly blurry vision. He was shirtless with only bright white bandages wrapped around his stomach. His head was bowed low, chin almost touching his chest, but Kyuzo could still see the dark shadows under the man's closed eyes. His hair was lank and dirty, his face an unhealthy ashen color and he'd lost weight. His posture was stiff and Kyuzo could tell by the rigid way he held himself and the tick in his jaw that he was in pain. Shaking his head slightly, he continued. "My incompetence as a leader, a protector and a lover is why you're here."
Oh, for fucks sake. THIS is why I'm not sleeping? To hear Kambei's irrational guilt?
"I'm going to kill you."
That probably wasn't the best reaction. But he was tired and unbelievably sore, his mouth tasted horrible, his throat ached, and due to Kambei's words had just remembered that it wasn't Kambei's fault at all, it was his own. He'd been the one that screwed up and left that guard alive. Kambei was hurt, in pain, and it was his doing.
Kambei's wide eyes snapped to his before he broke out in a wide grin as he leaned in closer.
"You're awake!"
"How can I sleep when you never stop talking?"
The genuine relief and delight on Kambei's face made Kyuzo uncomfortable but also dimmed his aggravation.
"You've slept enough," Kambei replied immediately, not looking at all put off by Kyuzo's surly mood. "How do you feel?"
Kyuzo cocked an eyebrow. "Like I got shot and almost had my arm torn off," he answered honestly. His left arm ached from fingertip to shoulder and his stomach was tender and uncomfortable, but his back was far worse - a steady pulsing agony that was centered low and radiated up to the base of his skull.
Kambei winced and looked down, the happiness on his face replaced with guilt again. Something uncomfortable twisted in Kyuzo's chest, making him want to do something to erase that look. It was very rare that he felt that he was wrong, and when he was, he didn't like to admit it. This time he had something to lose, something more important to him than his own life, making it even harder to admit his error. But despite his fear at the reaction Kambei may have at the revelation that he'd been shot because of Kyuzo's carelessness, Kyuzo knew he needed to tell the other man. It was unacceptable for him to blame himself for this situation.
"You're wrong. It wasn't your fault. It was mine."
Kambei looked at him in confusion, making Kyuzo wonder if he'd had understood his words - his throat was very dry, making his already low voice rough and almost indecipherable.
"If I'd been paying attention, you wouldn't have needed to intervene," Kambei said, shaking his head and looking apologetic.
"If I'd killed him properly, he wouldn't have been able to shoot at you."
Kambei opened his mouth to argue again and Kyuzo glared at him, not willing to let him take the blame.
"I suppose we both could have done things differently," he said at last. Kyuzo blinked, surprised at the other man's willingness to share the burden. A small smile crept on his face unbidden - maybe this was what it was like to share something with someone, to not be alone any longer. Neither of them needed to carry the whole burden any longer.
Kambei smiled back, soft and sincere. Then he leaned back slightly and fumbled behind him with the hand not gripping Kyuzo's, eventually pulling over the blanket from his own sleeping pallet. Kyuzo watched with a raised brow as the older man grunted and shuffled around until he finally settled himself on the floor next to Kyuzo.
"You're recovering as well. You shouldn't sleep on the floor."
"I'll sleep better right here," Kambei answered. And with his comforting warm presence pressed in beside him, Kyuzo couldn't find it in himself to argue.
They both had a long recovery in front of them. Not only because of the wounds sustained in this battle, but the ones accumulated over the years of being alone and unhappy. But together they'd fix each other. This was just the beginning.