Cleansing: A Samurai 7 fanfiction

Author: Cal-Reflector

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or the character contained therein.

Chapter 3: Watching

One week later

The sounding of the cock rang clearly through the cool, crisp air of the morning, and as the light blanket of mist enshrouding the sleepy village began to dissipate under the sun's emerging rays, the inhabitants of Kanna roused slowly from their beds after a night of restful, uninterrupted slumber.

Katushirou had risen one hour before, and taking care not to disturb his still sleeping hosts, made his way out of the house and trekked several kilometers to a clearing within a forested area where a river ran through. After numerous rounds of complicated and vigorous drills, he stepped into the cool waters of the shallow river until he reached the center. There, his sandaled feet planted firmly in a sideways stance, he steadied his breathing and closed his eyes, calming himself with the quiet sounds of his surroundings.

Taking sword with both hands, he slowly swung the blade in a wide backwards arc until the tip just touched the bubbling surface, whereupon his eyes snapped open and the sword flashed forward in a full upwards cut that exploded the water around his feet into shining spray and split the river's flow in twain for nine meters upstream before the water quickly rushed back in to fill the void.

The sunlight that filtered through the dense canopies of the forest above glistened off the droplets that trickled down the side of Katsushirou's face as he listened to sound of his hastened heartrate return to normal.

Over the years the young samurai had cut many things, from cold rigid steel to warm flesh and bone, but no cast-iron armor, no Nobuseri shield, was harder to cut than a river's water, for it would always resume its flow towards its destination, and its surface would bear no scars, no matter the destructive strength of the sword wielder. It was a matter Katsushirou had considered before; that water, which sustains life in all its forms, which quenches thirst and makes clean what is soiled, should prove more lasting and indestructible than even man's most impregnable fortresses. As he contemplated the matter over time, he found his soul slightly disquieted by the irony, yet at the same time, filled with a strange sense of relief.

With two deft flicks of his arm, Katsushirou shook off the beads from his gleaming katana and returned it to its sheath, then began heading back towards Kanna.

------

After staying the first few days at the village headman's home, Katsushirou had grown uncomfortable with his freeloading off the senior's generosity, a notion the elder dismissed with a wave of his gnarled staff. "Nonsense." the wrinkled old man had said with a toothy grin, "With the service you rendered us, I would not care if you ate thirty meals a day instead of three."

He received warm invitations from many villagers into their homes, but seeing how many of them had large families, he chose to stay with Rikchi, who had recently built a new home for himself and his wife, and thus had plenty of room to spare; the couple's earnest requests and their past friendship had also been major factors in the young samurai's decision.

So as Katsushirou returned from training that morning, strolling between fields abundant with gently swaying stalks of rice which had yet to ripen, he saw a group of men assembled in a distant field, engaged in practice with the bow and arrow. Intrigued, he approached them and found amongst the gathering several familiar faces, including his host, Rikchi, who waved at him when he saw the samurai and walked up to greet him.

"Good morning, o-samurai-sama, you are up early today, as usual." After numerous unsuccessful attempts to cure the older man's stubborn habit of addressing him so formally--a habit which, unfortunately, other villagers took after--Katsushirou eventually decided to let the issue rest.

"Good morning, Rikchi, what are you all doing here? I thought that the village had no need for weapons any more." His expression suddenly became concerned. "Have there been signs of trouble lately?"

"No, no! Hardly any trouble at all!" The young farmer laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head as he tried to place his guest back at ease. "It's just that, well, after what we've been through, its good precaution to keep some arms at hand just in case, you know? Besides…" Rikchi turned to glance back at his companions, whose lively conversations took place between loud twangs of the bow as they waited their turns at the line. "It's a good way to keep in shape and enjoy some friendly competition."

Katushirou relaxed then and smiled. Following Rikchi's gaze, he saw the familiar figure of Manzo, the diminutive man who had nearly been executed by Heihachi for betraying information to the enemy on the eve of battle. After the end of the war, Manzo had, with the aid of the entire village, rebuilt his farm, which had been isolated from the rest of Kanna and been razed to the ground by the vengeful Nobuseri. "Good morning, Manzo. Never thought I'd see you pick up the bow voluntarily. How have you been doing?"

His wariness and resentment towards samurai much reduced by three years of peaceful prosperity, Manzo turned and replied cheerfully. "Fair enough, O-samurai-sama, fair-enough. Much thanks to you of course." The middle-aged man, who once was constantly hunched over with a timid look on his face, now stood with a straighter back and had a wizened air of good humor about him.

Members of Manzo's party, however, apparently disagreed with his statement, and voiced their opinions heard. "That's not true, o-samurai-sama! Old Manzo's marksmanship is so bad, we have just begun today and he already owes all of us one round of drinks!" The other men laughed loudly as the jeered farmer scowled and shook his bony fist at the offenders.

"I was still warming up! You bloodsuckers… you lot are worse than the Nobuseri!"

Katsushirou smiled a little, unable to keep himself from being affected by the jovial atmosphere, and was soon invited to join in the competition, an offer he declined. As he observed the men, he noted that even in peacetime, the confidence which the villagers had gained from their victory over the Nobuseri had remained and grown, which was reflected in the marked improvement in their handling of the bow. Pleased with what he saw, he remarked to Rikchi, who had been taking a break next to him, "You have all improved greatly. If there were any Nobuseri straying about now, I believe you could chase them off by yourselves handily even without hired samurai."

The elder man laughed heartily in response to the compliment. "You flatter us, o-samurai-sama. We just didn't want to forget the feeling of strength we had in our bodies when we fought for our village, when you called us soldiers of our Kanna castle..."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud groan of frustration from Manzo, whom they saw stamping his feet against the ground next to a giant of a man, who was scratching his large face and regarding the old man's antics, which could only be described as comical.

"Looks like Denma won again." Rikchi said, pointing to the younger farmer, who stood two and a half heads taller than his defeated opponent. "Manzo just doesn't know when to give up. No one in the village can match Denma's size and strength, and the way he pulls the bow is remarkable..." He shrugged. "Old Manzo doesn't like the way Denma looks at Shino I guess."

Surprised to hear of Manzo not giving in on anything, Katsushirou nonetheless smiled as he thought of the old man's attachment to his daughter; more so than his ancestral fields, Shino had to be Manzo's most precious possession in the world. He continued to watch as the barrel-chested Denma consistently planted arrows across the face of the target, a big bale of hay bound tightly into a circular shape, from the distance of 80 paces, when Manzo's own arrows failed to even reach the target half the time.

Whether it was because of sympathy for the embattled old farmer or the competitive nature of his youth, Katsushirou did not know, but his felt his fingers begin to twitch, and in the end, he walked up to the participants and spectators at the line and said. "I think… I will give it a try after all."

For a moment those assembled became quiet, and Katsushirou was about to rescind his self invitation before a buzz of excitement broke out among the peasants who were thrilled at the chance to see their former commander back in action. Manzo went so far as to propose a prize, speaking to the young warrior. "O-Samurai-sama, if you can put this muscle-headed oaf in his place, I will provide the drinks afterwards!"

Some whistled, "How stingy you are, Manzo old man. For a monumental task as this, you ought to offer o-samurai-sama your daughter's hand!" General laughter broke out as Manzo's face turned red. Katsushirou chuckled half-heartedly.

------

Kirara had been taking a walk through the village that morning, and was presently seated against the gentle slop of a grassy knoll, from where she had a good view of the range where the men were practicing at. Her dark eyes followed the figure of the young samurai, whose unexpected presence accounted for the extra excitement and enthusiasm within the party that morning. It was clear that the villageloved him; his youthful strength, his modest manners, and even now, when the sound of his quiet laughter reached her, she found her hand unconsciously reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

One week had passed since the night Katsushirou returned, and Kirara had not held a real conversation with him since. They passed by each other in the village from time to time, but aside from the exchange of formal greetings, they had not talked.

She had not forgotten the words he spoke--and the words he left unspoken--that night, on top of that moonlit hill, where the fragrance of blossoming flowers had lingered across the site of the tombs. She watched out for him these past few days, watched as he returned from training in the mornings, clothes soaked through with sweat, and she wanted to ask him why, when there was no more wars to prepare for, no more battles to fight? Even though he was able to converse cheerfully enough with the villagers, she saw beneath the façade, the uncommitted smile and the chuckle that rang hollow, the void which he sought to fill: There was a part of himself that Katsushirou was missing, and three years later, he was still struggling alone to find closure.

Alone… that would partly be her fault, wouldn't it? A pleasant breeze swept slowly across the knoll which she sat upon, causing the hem of her outfit's skirt to flutter a little.

Kirara watched as Katsushirou picked up a bow, and to the astonishment of the murmuring men, began walking back from the line. She sighed; Kirara did not know how to help him find the answer he was searching for, no better than she knew her own… but she knew that to take no action would result in nothing changed. '… Like what I have been doing for the last three years.'

Katsushirou stopped when he was about twenty paces behind the line; one hundred paces from the target that Denma and Manzo had just been aiming for. He brought the bow up to level, arms firm and un-shaking as he steadily drew back the taut string to full extension. When he released, a small thrill arose within Kirara as she watched the arrow fly straight and true over a shallow arc and finally bury itself into the center of the bale of hay, eliciting a cheer from the group of farmers as they gathered around the young man to laud his prowess. Kirara saw him shift uncomfortably, no doubt trying to give himself less credit than he deserved… but he deserved more, so much more than this brief moment of peace which he reluctantly permitted himself.

And Kirara yearned to repay him, if only a little.

Author's Notes: I was surprised by the warm reception this story has received and the number of reviews as well. Thank you all very much for your encouragement and critiques; your comments have motivated me tremendously, and I hope that if you like this story, you will continue to read and maybe even share it with your friends to help spread the popularity of this wonderful, yet underrated anime series.