Disclaimers: Samurai 7 belongs to Akira Kurosawa.
Warnings: Contains disturbing content. Spoilers up to episode 17, and some on Heihachi's past.
A/N: Ya, this is nothing like my last piece. I'm tired of writing sappy stories so I'm going back to blood and guts. Enjoy!
---
Purge
The ground is muddy from yesterday and it sticks to Katsushiro's shoes as he walks. There is a faint smell of oil in the air, it makes him restless, almost edgy. Around him, Kanna is being rebuilt. Villagers are busy hauling debris away or patching roofs.
Not for the first time, Katsushiro feels out of place. In his mind, there's a fleeting image of a man in white leaving him behind. Maybe if I were stronger, he thinks, sensei would have taken me with him... But he knows this is only wishful thinking; Kanbei would never need his help.
Winding through the village, he heads for the house the remaining samurai share. Soon it will be time for lunch and one of the girls, hopefully Kirara, will be bringing rice. Talking with her always seemed to calm him somehow. Letting his thoughts rest on the water priestess, Katsushiro opened the sliding door into the house.
Instead of finding an empty room, he found Heihachi fighting to rewrap his bandages. And from the look on his face, the serrated strips of cloth were winning.
"Heihachi-dono, I can help with that, if you'd like." Katsushiro held back a small grin and offered his hand.
"I guess that's the nice way of saying I'm making a fool of myself." The engineer smiled and handed over the bandages.
Gingerly, Katsushiro circled the cloth around the other man's torso, mindful not to make it too tight, and was just about to tie it when a stretch of pale skin caught his eye. There was a scar running across Heihachi's belly. It was about the length of his hand, uneven and curved. The skin puckered around it like someone had done a hasty stitching job. It must have been painful. Katsushiro thought, What did this? It almost looks like...
"It's ugly, isn't it?" Heihachi asked in a detached voice.
Katsushiro realized he had paused. He quickly finished tying the bandages, face red with embarrassment, and focused his eyes on a neutral space on the floor. Heihachi put on his shirt and pilot cap.
The younger samurai kept his eyes downcast as his thoughts returned to the marred skin. He hadn't meant to stare; it was just sort of unusual to see a scar like that in that particular place.
But there were a number of plausible reasons for its existence. Heihachi did fight in the Great War, after all. And he is always tinkering with machines or sharp objects, so the possibility of an accident doesn't seem like too far of a stretch. Especially since he isn't the most graceful person in the world.
But...
"Heihachi-dono..."
Katsushiro has seen samurai with wounds in that same spot; he knows how they are inflicted. And samurai are never meant to survive that wound.
"Did... you...?"
His words were slow and cautious; like invisible hands, they were searching for an opening. Curious, but unsure if they really wanted to see what lay hidden.
There was a strange smile playing on Heihachi's lips, "I was about your age, when I did something foolish. And I thought I could atone for it by killing myself."
The older man stood and walked sluggishly for the door. Before leaving, he stopped and turned to the youth.
"Don't ever sacrifice your honor, Katsushiro, not for anything. It isn't worth it." Then he left.
---
He wandered through Kanna, no set destination in mind, until he came upon Gorobei's grave. A cool breeze drifted by and ruffled his hair. Lightly, a hand traced the path of the scar on the outside of his clothes; sometimes he forgot it was there. Words were building up inside of him, long restrained and pushed aside. And he was tired of holding them in and telling half-truths. Heihachi took a seat next to the mound.
"Hello, Gorobei. Things are going back to normal here, the farmers are all talking about the upcoming harvest. They're smiling again." He glanced back at Kanna, "It's not only them that you've helped. I was going to thank you as well. Should've have told you sooner... I owe you honesty at least, and it's better late than never, right?"
The breeze died down and all was silent on the cliff.
---
I remember it was a miserably hot day.
We had left the city of Ayanabe three days ago and were headed for Misawa, this little village in the middle of nowhere. There, our unit was going to consolidate with another regiment and begin repairing damaged ships on the western front.
Or so, that was the original plan. But we had to take a detour after stumbling across an enemy battalion. You see, our airship wasn't the latest model around, those are reserved for the front line and we just carry spare parts, so occasionally it gets overheated and we have to land it and let the engines cool for a bit.
We sent scouts out to monitor the area while we waited. They came back within an hour and told us there was a large presence of enemy machine-infantry in the area. They were moving in the direction of Misawa, probably to engage the regiment stationed there, and would pass by us before nightfall.
There were only forty of us, so we couldn't fight them outright, but we could delay them. We had landed on the bank of the Hisaru River because the tree line would obscure us. It was a wide and treacherous river to cross, impossible for machine samurai. The only way they could cross was the bridge a few miles downstream. If we destroyed the bridge they would have to follow the river all the way down and around, buying us and the troops at Misawa time to prepare for battle.
A small team would be assembled to destroy the bridge. It would be easier for them to avoid detection and vanish into the woods after the job was done. There were four in total that were selected, and I was one of them. I was younger and a lot bolder then; I knew the risks, but still agreed to go.
Takao, Ryuji, Junsuke and I were shown a map of the surrounding area, about six miles north of the bridge was a rock formation where they would fly the airship and wait until we rejoined them. With the bridge gone, we'd all be safe on the other side and gone by morning.
The ship lifted off and I took my bag of supplies and slung it over my shoulder. Junsuke took the lead and started off into the forest. We all followed, silent as shadows.
---
We made good time getting to the bridge. It was almost dusk when we began planting the bombs along the structure. Every fifteen steps I'd pick out one of the fist-sized explosives from the crate and activate it for standby mode. I was halfway done with the left side when I felt a cold blade slide under my chin.
"Set them down." A voice whispered in my ear as a hand snatched the sword off my back. A bead of sweat tickled down my neck and disappeared into the folds of my uniform. I laid the bomb crate to the side. Looking up I could see Ryuji and Junsuke standing with swords drawn against three machine samurai. They had sent scouts to check the bridge.
"Stand."
I raised up slowly and searched for Takao. I didn't see him. The machine behind me pushed me forward, but never let its sword leave contact with my neck.
As we approached the others, a lanky machine samurai stepped forward. He smiled, a set of pointed teeth glistening in the dying light. "You better quit while you're behind."
It was then I saw the body lying crumpled behind him. Takao. A scimitar was sticking out of his neck. A short, round machine samurai pulled it out, watching the blood on his blade with interest.
"Doesn't that look nice, Jonto?"
The fanged samurai nodded, "Quite."
He closed the distance between himself and Junsuke while the shorter one went for Ryuji. The third machine observed the duels quietly and then raised his arm and fired off three spikes. One hit Junsuke in his right eye and he dropped to one knee, clutching his face. The other two each went through Ryuji's shoulders.
"Not too bad, Yuu." The short one remarked as he lunged forward. Ryuji brought his katana up to block, but wasn't fast enough. The curved saber severed his wrist and sunk into his chest. The machine samurai gave the blade a twist and withdrew it. Ryuji staggered and collapsed.
The one called Jonto patted Junsuke on the head, "There, there. It'll all be over soon." He swung his sword, intending to cut the head off his opponent, but Junsuke shifted and the blade missed, becoming embedded in his skull. He scowled and ripped it out, brain matter splattering in the dirt. The sword at my neck dropped and a pair of hands shoved me. I couldn't keep my balance and I fell to the ground. Jonto laughed at me. That was when I knew what fear was. It was when you knew that your life was truly at another's mercy.
"What's your name, kid?"
I didn't answer; I didn't know.
"A shy one, huh? We can make you speak." The short one moved closer.
I scrambled backwards but Jonto caught me by the neck and pulled my arms behind my back. The short one grabbed my feet as I tried to kick free. They hauled me over to Ryuji's body. I twisted and jerked and Jonto tightened his grip on my throat.
They dropped me next to Ryuji and forced my face down into a puddle of his blood. I panicked as they smeared my face in it. I ripped one of my arms free and lashed out, but they easily dodged it. They pulled me up and let me sit.
"You see, kid, we could have done to you what we did to your friends, but we didn't. All we ask in return, is some answers to very simple questions. Not difficult, unless you want to make it that way."
Frantically, I rubbed the blood off my face and mouth with my hands. But I could still smell it, I could taste it. I leaned forward and vomited.
"I know you four weren't out here alone trying to blow up this bridge. You don't have any provisions besides water in your bags. So, that means there's more of you nearby." Yuu sat across from me, sharpening his spikes, "Tell us where and we'll let you go."
I wiped my mouth and stared at my feet.
This isn't happening. This isn't real. I'm not here. I whispered that over and over until I almost believed it.
Jonto hit me hard in the mouth, "I'm beginning to think you're a waste of time, kid."
"Maybe not," the short one interjected, "Have you ever heard of Osai? I'm sure they wouldn't think you're a waste."
I froze; I knew what Osai was. It was a camp made especially for prisoners of war. The enemy had a secret medical military unit that researched various scientific topics through human experimentation. The only reason I knew this was because I had met someone who had been there.
---
Keita Noboru. He'd been MIA for six months when my unit picked him up near Shiroku. Keita told us he'd been taken to a prison camp called Osai, and that he'd later escaped. He looked like a skeleton, all skin and bones. His fingers had been sliced off and all the bones in his hands were crushed. We rushed him to the nearest hospital, even though we knew he wouldn't make it. Before he died, he stammered on and on about the things he'd seen in Osai.
They would test bombs on prisoners tied to stakes at different distances and positions. They would amputate limbs and attach them to opposite sides. Animal blood was injected into prisoners and some were given lethal doses of x-ray radiation. They would infect them with diseases and then remove organs to study the effects. They performed live autopsies.
They
That word was a barrier to me. As I listened to what the guards and scientists would do, I imagined them as grotesque, horned creatures with warped and crippled bodies. They moved with dragging footsteps or crawled on ceilings. They were shadowy figures that haunted the corners of your vision when you were in a dark room alone. They came out at night and faded in the daylight. I could picture them any way I wanted because I knew they were few and isolated and I would never see them.
But I was so far off.
---
Sitting there, the blood began to seep in around me and stick to my skin. There was always a safe distance between myself and the stories I'd heard. It allowed me the space to pretends that they were monsters, because I didn't understand what kind of person could do those things. They couldn't be human. But there really are monsters in this world, and some of them don't look so different from you or me.
They could see I had at least heard of Osai. Jonto reached into his shirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"You might think this is a bad place to be," he gestured at the bodies, "But you and I both know there are worse places." He gave that ugly smile that showed all his teeth.
Crouching, he unfolded the paper and held it before me. It was a map. "Where are the rest of them? Help us now and we won't take you to Osai, you won't find that worse place."
There was this gnawing sensation in my chest, and all I could see in my mind's eye was Junsuke lying with his head halfway open and Keita's disfigured hands. I was alone and defenseless and surrounded and...
I wanted to live.
My hand trembled as I pointed to the rock formation on the other side of the river. Jonto stood and patted me on the head. Someone came up behind me and grabbed my arms, another grabbed my feet. They showed me some mercy this time, they threw me in the river.
---
I remember the water rushing up to my face and then my head hitting something hard. When I came to, I had been dragged downstream and was wedged up against a boulder and the left bank. My head was throbbing, I put a hand to it and it came away bloody. Sluggishly, I used the rock to gain purchase and climb out of the river.
Once I oriented myself, I took off for the rendezvous point. It was dark and I was several miles downstream, but I didn't think about that. I concentrated on the fire in my lungs as I ran and the impact of each step as it hit the ground.
I didn't think about the smell of smoke that was in the air.
---
Dawn was breaking, when I arrived.
It came, just like any other day, but I wished it hadn't. I wished it would have left me in the dark. I stared at the remains of the smoldering airship and sank down into ashes. A black feeling settled over me, it was that sense of being just too late. Their bodies had been piled together and were burning slowly next to the ship. Flames licked the outstretched arms and legs. I didn't look for any faces because I knew they were all there, and they were all dead. Because of me. There were things swimming in my head that I couldn't give word to. I wanted to tell them I was sorry, so so sorry. I never meant for this.
Numbly, I moved towards the airship. The sickly scent of burning flesh choked my throat. I picked up a jagged piece of sheet metal. It was warm in my hands, a foot long and sharp. What I did was inexcusable, death was nothing compared to what I deserved. I deserved Osai; I deserved worse.
I plunged the metal as deep as I could into my stomach, then dragged it across to the other side. Something horrible had been growing inside of me and spilled from the wound like the breaking of a dam. I slumped sideways and lay in the dirt, waiting.
It was a beautiful sunrise.
My vision was blurring around the edges when a medic found me. He turned my body over onto a stretcher and put back in the intestines that had fallen out. That's not too sanitary, I thought. He said he was with the 112th airbourne division, that they had received the distress signal my unit sent out and flew over as quickly as they could. He kept checking my pulse and telling me I was going to be fine while he tried to stop the bleeding.
I told him No, I wanted to die. He stabbed me with a shot of morphine and continued working.
---
When I awoke I was in intensive care at Ayanabe with a bunch of IVs hooked up to me. The doctor told me they had to remove parts of my large intestine, I wouldn't be able to digest meat that well because of it, but otherwise the operation went very well. That meant for weeks I'd be fed through a tube and confined to my bed.
A nurse would come in and try to engage me in conversation as she made subtle changes to the room.
"It's a nice day, isn't it?" She opens the curtains.
"My, aren't you warm in here?" She turns on a fan.
"Do you like to read?" She leaves a book.
I rarely gave a reply, but she never became discouraged. I think she knew I had given up and that's why she always made the effort. When my stomach healed enough for me to eat real food, the nurse brought me some of the riceballs she made.
"Why are you being so kind to me?" I asked her.
"Because you looked like you needed it."
I shook my head and told her why I didn't deserve kindness. I told her everything I had done.
"Hayashida-san, what could your death have given the dead?" she said, "They have no use for your blood. You cannot trade their fate, nor undo what has been done. You may carry that guilt, but don't let it consume you. Instead, use your life to honor them. Live as they would want you to." She set a plate of riceballs on the table next to my bed and left.
After a few minutes I tried one.
---
"I'm glad you asked me to join you in aiding this village. Thank you, Gorobei, for giving me this chance to amend some of the damage I've done." Heihachi stood and gave a low bow.
Behind him, Katsushiro observed in silence, hands pressed flat against the trunk of a tree. Carefully, he removed himself from hiding and retreated back into the forest.
Heihachi smiled as he heard the faint sound of a twig snapping.