Retribution
Chapter 9: Spirits of the Fallen
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Author: Jun-I
Pairing: Kambei/Kyuzo (later)
Warnings and Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

Synopsis: Kanbei's perspective on Katsushiro's first kill (not first person). How Kanbei got his scar.

Note: The flashback portion happened when Kanbei was 25, so his aide at that time couldn't have been Shichiroji, who, in this fic, is 10 years younger. In the timeline of the Retribution universe, Shichiroji would become Kanbei's aide 2 years later. (In companion fic Wolf Warriors, 17 year old Shichiroji appears with 27 year old Kambei)

Kyuuzou's POV:

We finally arrived at the village, but there was no welcoming committee. Turned out that half the villagers were having second thoughts about hiring us. Kikuchiyo managed to convince them to commit, using his unique PR tactics. I guess having the annoying robot around does have its benefits after all.

The samurai got ready to retire for the night. I did not want to sleep in the same room with a bunch of stinky guys who probably snore, so I decided to find myself a nice quiet spot in the forest. Came across that fellow Manzou, the one who had been whining the loudest about the disadvantages of hiring samurai. He was sneaking around in the forest when I snuck up on him. He said he was going to check the fields. I thought not. Gave him a little demo of what could happen to him if I ever had reason to believe he was going over to the Nobuseri.

Next morning, Kanbei assigned us our duties. Told me to train all the men of the village in archery. Why not the women too? Peasant women are strong; they would not have much difficulty drawing a bow. I did not see the harm in having more trained archers but this was not the time and place to challenge Shimada Kanbei's opinions. It's all about giving a leader 'face' in public. Just who exactly voted him in as leader of the group anyway? That sexist bastard. If my sisters were here they would have gladly kicked his butt. But I let the matter slide.

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Everyone fell into the rhythm of their assigned duties. There was a degree of 'normalcy' (well, about as much 'normalcy' as one could get when preparing for a siege) until the night Katsushiro killed the Nobuseri who was meeting with Manzou. Just as I thought, Manzou was a traitor.

End Kyuuzou POV

As Katsushiro sat staring at the dead bandit in shock, Kanbei strode over and backhanded the boy in the face. The child wanted a taste of the samurai life, and now that he had it, he could not stomach it. The war veteran felt almost disgusted at the boy's naiveté. One should not choose the way of the sword lightly, for the sword has a way of following you even when you wish to leave it behind. Shimada should know. He had seen it happen before.

But of course the child could not know all this. "The foolish boy and his romantic fantasies!" Kanbei thought. "He actually thought that being a samurai was the same as being a saint! Did he think that killing would be 'heroic' and 'righteous'? For the rest of his life, he will remember the face of the first person he killed."

They say the first kill is the one you remember the most vividly. For Shimada Kanbei that had not been the case. The one killing that haunted his memory the most was not his first, but it was far from his last. It was a fair duel. Yet somehow it did not feel 'honorable'. Sometimes he asked himself if he would have done things differently if allowed to choose again. The answer was always 'No.'

Flashback: 15 years earlier

Blood was flowing quite freely from the long gash across his chest. The young Shimada knew the wound was not too deep. He could still stand. She, however, was no longer standing. The duel was over. He hoped she felt no pain. The military man had done the right thing by his code of honor and yet he felt doubt. All his previous bold words were intended to hide from his soldiers the inner turmoil raging within him.

His aide stepped up. "Sir, are you well? Should I get the medics?"

The young officer raised his hand as if to dismiss the aide's suggestion. Kanbei knew he needed to stop the bleeding. He was starting to feel a little faint. But he was not quite finished yet.

Shimada Kanbei sensed a pair of eyes, burning with malice, fixed on him. He frowned and looked around warily. There was no one else in the room besides himself, his men, and the two dead women. The samurai thought that the odd sensation of being watched must have come from his own frazzled nerves, or perhaps the disembodied spirit of his slain cousin was standing there watching him. More than before, he understood what seasoned warriors meant when they say, "Whenever you kill someone, another fallen spirit clings to you." Ghosts of nameless strangers were one thing, but the restless spirit of a kinswoman was another matter.

The aide stared at the redness oozing through the fabric of his commander's uniform. But seeing that the stern Shimada was not about to accept immediate care, he added, "In addition to her head and her sword, we should take her hand back to HQ, sir."

Kanbei turned and glared at the man darkly even as he felt the crimson warmness soak his clothes rather uncomfortably. The aide turned pale and added quickly, "To stop the tongues of those who might claim you couldn't bear to execute your own cousin, so you killed another woman and brought back her head instead."

Kanbei knew his subordinate was probably right. Shizuka had 'disappeared' from the army shortly before Kanbei enlisted. The place was abuzz with gossip about the reasons for the older Shimada's departure. Kanbei noticed how the mess hall would suddenly grow quiet when he entered. How officers gave him strange looks, and how he was not promoted as quickly as his peers. Shizuka had tainted the Shimada name, a taint that time could not erase. When the news came after nine years that her whereabouts had been traced to a remote highland village, Shimada Kanbei was ordered to bring Shizuka to justice. It was his chance to clear his family name, and also to prove that he was not like her. The younger Shimada had no choice. The matter was bigger than the both of them. There was no way out for either the hunter or the hunted.

The young samurai knelt down beside the fallen woman and took her left hand – the hand with six-petal flower tattoo just like his own. Better that he do the deed than let a stranger do it. He brought his sword down. It was a nice, clean stroke. Then he collapsed.

As Kanbei lay on the stretcher, distantly aware of the medics fussing over him and the concerned faces of his men, there came unbidden to his mind the memory of that warrior maiden, tall, dark and strong, who crossed toy swords with him when he was a child of five. There was a time when he wanted to grow up to become a famously strong samurai like his cousin Shizuka. Now he knew that he had surpassed her. But did that knowledge make him happy?

Just before he passed into unconsciousness, strange thoughts drifted into the young samurai's mind: his kinswoman was a double-sword fighter. But just now she was carrying only one katana. When she had drawn her sword to fight him, the blade was clean. She must have used her other katana to cut down his men. He had not seen another sword in that room. Where was it?

The younger Shimada lived on to kill many other people. Standing on the battlefield amidst the corpses of both friends and foes, it was not too difficult for Shimada Kanbei to banish the deaths of two insignificant women from his mind. But were their deaths really that insignificant? It was as if a shadow had come over his soul. Over the next two years, the battles he won, the deeds of valor he performed, the praise of his superiors and the love of his subordinates could not erase that strange unease inside.

The young officer did not know why he would feel this vague guilt. He did the right thing. In the military, there was no place for individualistic soldiers who think they can come and go as they please. Kanbei had no patience for those not strong enough to finish what they started. He had no sympathy for selfish samurai who did not consider how their actions shamed their family and clan. And he certainly had no mercy for dishonorable deserters.

So the officer decided that he would stop being so 'immature' and put the matter of his kinswoman's desertion and execution behind him. There was no need to feel guilt because he was not guilty. A true man could master his thoughts and emotions. From that time on, that particular memory no longer had the power to affect him. Or did it? He did not know when it was that he decided the battlefield was not the place for women. He did not use to think so when he was younger. The dark samurai became even more firm in this belief when he heard that a female officer on the other side had been executed for insubordination – she refused to carry out an order to 'punish' a village which had failed to meet its rice quota.

Then Kanbei heard of a pilot on his own side who was shot down after her comrades failed to cover her in battle. The rumor was that she had reported abuses against civilians earlier. Another samurai woman on the other side declared the civil war a 'dishonorable war' and refused to re-deploy, or so it was said. Again, the offender was promptly made an example of and put to death.

So it seemed that Shizuka was not the only samurai woman who refused to obey and toe the line. The problem was that women, more often than men, allowed their emotions to dictate their choices, or so thought Kanbei. In a time of war, one could not afford to feel too much.

Life went on. More battles were won. Yet more lost. Now as the former commander stepped into middle age, he felt like a dead man walking. After half a lifetime at war, the seasoned veteran realized he had never truly known life and love in their fullness – they were always possibilities just beyond his reach, mirages that disappeared when he reached for them. Was this his reward for killing someone for daring to seize those very things? That nagging idea skirted the edge of his consciousness but he dismissed it as a meaningless notion. The product of 'immaturity' and worthless sentimentality.

Note: My theory for the flower tattoo is AU. In the canon universe, it was a military thing, not a family thing.