Last chapter.

Thanks for reading a medical student's rigmarole. As usual, only the story is mine, and I'm thankful that you read it. Some of the stuff here is derived from Reiya Inc.'s "Purge", which is currently the best rendition of THAT series of events, even better than mine. The rest of it is elaboration on stuff that is in "Tenshi".

……………………….

They said nothing to each other. He silently winced through the pain, crying out only when he could no longer stop himself from screaming.

Honoka was helping him sit up. A painful undertaking for someone with surgery to his internal organs and to his back. But he did not complain, and he did not talk to her. She tried to be careful, but it was hard to judge at any given moment what part of him would hurt. Besides, it gave her some satisfaction in his pain. She was being sadistic, but she felt repaid for all the hard work she had gone through for him.

She was glad that he was better…only because she did not have to care for him so closely. Or that was what she told herself. Something inside her was glad he was better, period.

One last thing was left to be done to him. They just had to remove some of the fastening devices they had left on him. After that, he would learn how to stand and walk again. This time, he was conscious, since it was easier and less painful. But less painful did not mean painless. Honoka watched as he cringed and clenched his teeth. She had a few cloths ready for him, as he leaned back on the bed, drenched in sweat. Once again she ran her hands through his fiery hair and his tired face.

One by one the Shikimoribito left, having finished their work. Finally she was alone to clean up the mess. She sighed. Surgeons. They were always like that, leaving people to clean up after them. He watched in silence as she worked around the room, picking up the used instruments and collecting them into a container.

She was taking away the used bandages and gauze, when he spoke.

"Honoka-san."

She looked back, very slowly. She also spoke very slowly. "Yes, sir?"

"Could you sit down, please?"

Without a word, she took up a stool and sat beside him.

He was still breathing heavily, but the panting was slowing. He looked away. "Now, see here. It's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done so far, Honoka-san. It's just that…"

She finished the sentence. "You don't deserve it?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Yes. You don't."

He chuckled. "Now that's blunt."

She said nothing.

"Um…I'd like to tell you something, Honoka-san."

"Alright." She placed both hands on her lap, and faced him.

He continued. "I was ground crew in the last war. You know, in the fighting, but not expected to fight. Safe position. But then…but then…the enemy bombarded our base, took down everything they could within sight. They killed all the soldiers, burned down all the facilities. And when they found nothing more…they found us. They found me."

She was listening. She watched as he held on to the blanket, rather tightly.

"They gave me only one choice: either I told them where the other units escaped, or they would kill me."

Honoka finally understood. "You told them."

He nodded.

"Then?" she asked.

"I was part of the side that eventually won the war. Investigations were done. Soon they found out I had ratted to the enemy. They dragged me out to an open clearing, threw me down to the ground, planted my face on the muddy soil. Traitors…" he took a deep breath before he continued. "They said traitors should not be allowed to live."

Honoka could not make herself look at him.

"But it was just us soldiers and ground crew then, no superiors. As one of those soldiers raised a sword over my head, another one blocked it. He told me to get up, to run, to never come back. So, I did. For years." He ran a hand through his red hair. "It was a fading memory already, you know. Then you showed up, and Manzo, too."

All she could say was, "I see."

"I know that doesn't explain what I did to you back then…but, maybe you could see where I'm coming from…"

She nodded slightly.

"Um…I don't expect to be forgiven or anything like that."

"You don't have to apologize," she said.

"It's just that…it's just that…you know…some things get stuck in you, and it keeps getting pressed down, pressure adds to it…and…you see, it's just like in a pressure chamber, you know….universal gas law…finite space, increasing temperature…increasing pressure…"

Actually, Honoka did not understand any of his last words, but she did understand the pressure. It was partly why she had grown so stiff and serious, even she knew that. She was always afraid of being found out, of being caught, by the people and the community who had been always kind to her. It all spilled out as her tears flowed in front of Kanbei-sama and the other samurai.

"Things should've followed the basic law of physics: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Those who have committed crime should have accepted punishment. But it was different for me. And for you. And it did not make sense. It didn't, it didn't!" He patted his abdomen. "I should've paid for my crime against so many of my friends back then, in that explosion. Oh, well. I guess living is my punishment."

The way that caring for her accuser had been Honoka's punishment.

Although she no longer thought of it that way.

There were no words she could tell him after that. She was not good with words in the first place, and any words she wanted to say did not seem appropriate. She went to a corner where beddings were placed. She returned with a blanket. This she gave to him, said goodnight, and went to bed.

He remained generally quiet after that, at least, in her presence. With other people he slowly returned to being the cheerful and bubbly young man they had met. With her he remained cautious. He kept giving her sideglances and watching her movements.

"Can't blame him, nee-san, just think of it that way," Mizuki told her. "Although…he might be…no, I think I'd better not…"

"Alright, Mi-chan, what do you know?" Honoka asked her sister.

"Oh, nothing! Nothing!" Mizuki giggled.

"Mizuki…"

"He's not planning anything dangerous. Happy now?"

She shook her head and did not ask any further.

But she did wonder why she heard the tinkling of metal objects late into the night for the next few days. She peered through the curtain separating their bedroom from his, and found him at his workbench with an open toolbox and a headlight on his forehead, working at something she could not make out. She shrugged. Maybe it was just something the other farmers asked him to make, something to keep him busy. She heard the tink-tink-clunk of metal objects for about a week. She always went to bed with that noise in her head. But it made him happy, so she ignored the noises.

On one midnight, the noise changed into a little tinkling melody, repeated over and over. It sounded like a little song that was once popular in her village, her home village. At first she ignored it – Mizuki was probably still awake and humming the tune. But the tinkling melody continued, and undeniably continued to play that little village song. It came from his side of the hut. Curiosity got the better of her, and she drew back the curtain.

He was seated, leaned back on his chair, his chest heaving slowly up and down, in front of his workbench. The melody was coming from a small object. It was illuminated by the small overhead lamp at his workbench. She walked a little closer, and she saw it. A music box.

She tiptoed closer to the workbench, until she stood beside him. He was fast asleep, exhausted, but with a smile on his face.

She looked down on the workbench. She saw a small metal box, with a small doll in a simple white dress twirling and dancing on top. It was almost exactly like the music box she had back home…back when life was simple and happy, when bandits were far from their thoughts. Her father had bought it for her on one of his trips to town, when she was a little girl, even before Mizuki was born. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she was unable to stop a few of them from falling down her cheeks. She missed her old life, her father, her mother, her house, her village. She missed them all.

But she realized that, finally, she had something from her old life, something tangible, something to remind her to keep on while remembering the past. Everything they had was burned down, and even Mizuki was taken. Now she had at least one little thing to remind her of the good old days.

Then she eventually realized that this was what he had been doing for the last few nights. Something, for her.

She wrapped a blanket around him. She moved her hands across his face, the contours she had became too familiar with from constant rubbing with a damp towel. She placed them over his eyes, the eyes she had pried open to check if he was still alive. Her hands went to down to his neck, and to his chest, the one she had despised so much.

A hand went back to his neck, just below his chin. She pressed. If he only knew, if he only knew, how many times she did that, how many times she wanted to press harder.

But she always stopped herself, and she did not know why. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe it was his labored breathing through the fever. Maybe it was that thought that death would be too good for him.

She heard the tinkling again. She took away her hand. She picked up the music box from the table.

"Father, why did you let our paths cross, him and me? Why?"

But it was not her father who answered him. It was another voice.

"Fate brings people together. It's not our place to ask why. It's OUR place to make the most of it."

Gorobei-sama.

"Take care of that crazy redhead, will you? We had great times."

She smiled, and promised him that she will.

Because even terrible situations could bring people together, in the most unusual ways.

………………………

Once again, thanks to those of you who read this, something I made to stop myself from going crazy.

EK out.