Samurai 7: (Kanbei/Shichiroji)
Oct. 5th, 2007 02:12 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestFandom: Samurai 7; Kanbei/Shichiroji
Title : "Would I that my Hands were a Key to Healing..."
Author: i_am_zan
Rating: Gen, and I am most apologetic for that!
Warnings : Spoilers, maybe for Firefly House episodes
Word count: 1515
Summary : Prompt :- dedication and loyalty -- "A good friend is a connection to life; a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in an insane world."
I wander the lonely spaces
In my heart
Alone
I wander aimless and bereft.
No home
- Zan
After flying into the hornets’ nest, it seemed they would not get away with their lives. That they did was all attributed to his pilot’s skill and sixth sense. In the chaos and maelstrom of destruction, he hoped that they would become another statistic; one of the many, killed-in-action or missing-in-action. Then at least on paper he would not be accountable for the deaths surely resting on his soul. If he could at least save the one dear to him then he would go willingly to account for those he could not.
He worked hard to wrest his partner from the wreckage of the downed craft. Shichiroji, through a stroke of luck somehow managed to crash just within some woods by a river. The trees afforded them cover and it was always good to be near water. The blond was unconscious and bleeding quite a lot from a much-crushed left arm and hand, did not seem to have any other serious injuries, just minor cuts and bruises. The harness that held Shichiroji in was what saved him. Unfortunately, when the craft crashed Shichiroji held his arms over himself. A poor shield from the splintering Perspex, glass and metal shrapnel that cut through his pilot’s jacket. It looked like his left arm took the brunt of the flying debris.
Kanbei went through the craft to see what was salvage-able and what he could use for supplies. Surprisingly, although it would never fly again, the stasis chamber attached to their light cruiser was intact. Kanbei found the emergency medic kit and some rations. He built a small fire and started to boil some water, to set about cleaning the wounds on his friend.
He unbuttoned the jacket off first and decided to cut the sleeve away from the injured arm. The sleeve of the jacket damp and darkened with seeped through blood now and as gently as he could, Kanbei took it off. He was glad that the pilot was unconscious and hoped that the pain would not wake him. He cut away at the thick sleeve and then the shirtsleeve underneath it. He almost cursed when he saw the state of his friend’s arm. Instead, he let out a long and controlled sigh. He would do the best he can and hope for the best.
He was done with the arm and now he would clean up the rest of Shichiroji. With the jacket and shirt now off, Kanbei proceeded to sponge the downed pilot. He prepared more boiled water and allowed it to cool somewhat. He soaked and wrung a small cloth out, then he gently dabbed at the pale skin. He was glad to note from the skin-to-skin contact, his friend was not running a fever. He squeezed a few drops to moisten the lips. Kanbei made sure he dried him thoroughly.
Going down to the river’s edge he started to wash Shichiroji’s stained clothes. He estimated that they would be all right to stop there that night and the next night. It was enough he hoped.
…
Thus far, they had eluded discovery. The truth of the matter was that no one came to search the woods they were in, no alarmed posse of men either friend or foe combed through looking for wounded prisoners. Kanbei decided not to think about whatever the implications of that might be; and there were quite a few.
Right now uppermost in his thoughts was the condition of his friend, and what to do next?
The warrior sat cross-legged in front of the fire and sipped at some cooled boiled water. The flickering light cast small dancing shadows within their small camp area. He looked over at his sleeping friend, he noticed that his great cloak he used as a blanket for Shichiroji had slipped and he could see the small nicks stark against the pale skin. Asleep, Shichiroji looked like the boy he was at heart.
Kanbei cursed himself. He did not really have to because it was a curse of birth. Many things were not his fault but he keenly felt the guilt of them nevertheless. This war, the countless lives lost and O how many of them were friends, even family. Now here was one more. Kanbei put down the canteen to be nearer Shichiroji and sat by his side. His shoulder length flaxen hair spread out on a makeshift pillow, two places on his face and brow were starting to yellow a little in the early stages of bruising and his badly hurt arm. Kanbei was not sure the pilot would ever be able to use it again or twirl that extensible staff of his and throw it with accuracy.
With no one to witness him now, Kanbei allowed himself the weakness of covering his face with his hands and growling into them. It was a gurgle of frustration and exasperation. Done with that he looked at his dear friend once again, absentmindedly he brushed a lick of hair out of the sleeping man’s eyes. He thought of the years they had spent side by side, through training and through fighting. Kanbei was a serious man by nature but being around Shichiroji, he could not but be mellowed a little by his light-heartedness, more than that, Kanbei felt the loyalty that was the nearest thing he would ever get to love in his entire life. He was very much grateful for that. It was uncertain times and of undecided futures, but at least he had that. Now he could not tie the man to himself anymore. The war was over and they would have to make their way in this new world somehow with what their past gave them. That they were each the other’s door to the future was already set in stone, perhaps from the day they met. Kanbei knew what he had to do.
…
The next day, Kanbei gave his friend a last thorough clean, disinfected the open wounds and the badly gashed arm as best he could. He redressed his partner in his river-washed uniform, combed his hair and tied it slightly back to the side with a length of cord. Throughout this time, Shichiroji flitted in and out of consciousness. He came to, drowsily for a bit longer during the proceedings.
“Hey you.” He managed a weak smile to Kanbei. “You’re definitely no angel. So that must mean we’re still alive huh?”
“Yes my friend.” Kanbei was shocked to see those familiar eyes again. “Hush now, and go back to sleep.”
“Yeah, I think I will.” The blond replied. “I do feel sleepy still and I ache everywhere”
“So, stop rambling and go to sleep already.”
“You stop nagging like a fish-wife and I will say g’night.” Shichiroji joked softly and with that, he fell to sleep again.
“I’m sorry,” Kanbei whispered to his patient. “I hope the next time you open your eyes you do find your angel, more worthy of you than me.”
…
Kanbei disengaged the stasis chamber, from the cruiser carried it with some difficulty to the bank of the river. He checked it for malfunctions and was glad to find none. They never had an occasion to use it before so it was still had plenty of breathing air in its slim tanks. He disabled the auto-locator, selected and set a temperature, keyed in several other commands on the operating panel and then he was ready.
With great care, Kanbei picked up the wounded soldier and placed him in his new sleeping quarters. He made sure the harness secured his friend; on his good side Kanbei positioned his friend’s fighting staff, pillowed and padded the wounded arm so it would not jar too much. As a final gesture of salute, Kanbei knelt by the side of the machine, bowed his head and whispered, “Godspeed and God bless.” He pressed a switch and with a ‘whoosh’, the cover slid close. The kneeling samurai observed the readings on the panels for a few minutes and saw that everything was in working order.
…
He had chosen dusk as the time for pushing off. It would give more time for the sleeping chamber to float further along the river under the cover of darkness. They were lucky and remained undetected and Kanbei prayed that their luck would hold out still. The lavender grey skies turned dark pink and orange and the sun wavered low over the water, twilight crept fast with the water slapping gently on the riverbank. In the darkened evening in the distance, the small winking lights of the machine were like fireflies on the water.
Then, when the lights were no more, Kanbei turned away and purposefully walked away. He was dressed, but he decided to forego the military greatcoat. He decided he would wear white from now. Perhaps for mourning, more for remembrance and yet he could not let go completely, for he took his katana with him for now was not the time.
Owari
Title : "Would I that my Hands were a Key to Healing..."
Author: i_am_zan
Rating: Gen, and I am most apologetic for that!
Warnings : Spoilers, maybe for Firefly House episodes
Word count: 1515
Summary : Prompt :- dedication and loyalty -- "A good friend is a connection to life; a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in an insane world."
I wander the lonely spaces
In my heart
Alone
I wander aimless and bereft.
No home
- Zan
After flying into the hornets’ nest, it seemed they would not get away with their lives. That they did was all attributed to his pilot’s skill and sixth sense. In the chaos and maelstrom of destruction, he hoped that they would become another statistic; one of the many, killed-in-action or missing-in-action. Then at least on paper he would not be accountable for the deaths surely resting on his soul. If he could at least save the one dear to him then he would go willingly to account for those he could not.
He worked hard to wrest his partner from the wreckage of the downed craft. Shichiroji, through a stroke of luck somehow managed to crash just within some woods by a river. The trees afforded them cover and it was always good to be near water. The blond was unconscious and bleeding quite a lot from a much-crushed left arm and hand, did not seem to have any other serious injuries, just minor cuts and bruises. The harness that held Shichiroji in was what saved him. Unfortunately, when the craft crashed Shichiroji held his arms over himself. A poor shield from the splintering Perspex, glass and metal shrapnel that cut through his pilot’s jacket. It looked like his left arm took the brunt of the flying debris.
Kanbei went through the craft to see what was salvage-able and what he could use for supplies. Surprisingly, although it would never fly again, the stasis chamber attached to their light cruiser was intact. Kanbei found the emergency medic kit and some rations. He built a small fire and started to boil some water, to set about cleaning the wounds on his friend.
He unbuttoned the jacket off first and decided to cut the sleeve away from the injured arm. The sleeve of the jacket damp and darkened with seeped through blood now and as gently as he could, Kanbei took it off. He was glad that the pilot was unconscious and hoped that the pain would not wake him. He cut away at the thick sleeve and then the shirtsleeve underneath it. He almost cursed when he saw the state of his friend’s arm. Instead, he let out a long and controlled sigh. He would do the best he can and hope for the best.
He was done with the arm and now he would clean up the rest of Shichiroji. With the jacket and shirt now off, Kanbei proceeded to sponge the downed pilot. He prepared more boiled water and allowed it to cool somewhat. He soaked and wrung a small cloth out, then he gently dabbed at the pale skin. He was glad to note from the skin-to-skin contact, his friend was not running a fever. He squeezed a few drops to moisten the lips. Kanbei made sure he dried him thoroughly.
Going down to the river’s edge he started to wash Shichiroji’s stained clothes. He estimated that they would be all right to stop there that night and the next night. It was enough he hoped.
…
Thus far, they had eluded discovery. The truth of the matter was that no one came to search the woods they were in, no alarmed posse of men either friend or foe combed through looking for wounded prisoners. Kanbei decided not to think about whatever the implications of that might be; and there were quite a few.
Right now uppermost in his thoughts was the condition of his friend, and what to do next?
The warrior sat cross-legged in front of the fire and sipped at some cooled boiled water. The flickering light cast small dancing shadows within their small camp area. He looked over at his sleeping friend, he noticed that his great cloak he used as a blanket for Shichiroji had slipped and he could see the small nicks stark against the pale skin. Asleep, Shichiroji looked like the boy he was at heart.
Kanbei cursed himself. He did not really have to because it was a curse of birth. Many things were not his fault but he keenly felt the guilt of them nevertheless. This war, the countless lives lost and O how many of them were friends, even family. Now here was one more. Kanbei put down the canteen to be nearer Shichiroji and sat by his side. His shoulder length flaxen hair spread out on a makeshift pillow, two places on his face and brow were starting to yellow a little in the early stages of bruising and his badly hurt arm. Kanbei was not sure the pilot would ever be able to use it again or twirl that extensible staff of his and throw it with accuracy.
With no one to witness him now, Kanbei allowed himself the weakness of covering his face with his hands and growling into them. It was a gurgle of frustration and exasperation. Done with that he looked at his dear friend once again, absentmindedly he brushed a lick of hair out of the sleeping man’s eyes. He thought of the years they had spent side by side, through training and through fighting. Kanbei was a serious man by nature but being around Shichiroji, he could not but be mellowed a little by his light-heartedness, more than that, Kanbei felt the loyalty that was the nearest thing he would ever get to love in his entire life. He was very much grateful for that. It was uncertain times and of undecided futures, but at least he had that. Now he could not tie the man to himself anymore. The war was over and they would have to make their way in this new world somehow with what their past gave them. That they were each the other’s door to the future was already set in stone, perhaps from the day they met. Kanbei knew what he had to do.
…
The next day, Kanbei gave his friend a last thorough clean, disinfected the open wounds and the badly gashed arm as best he could. He redressed his partner in his river-washed uniform, combed his hair and tied it slightly back to the side with a length of cord. Throughout this time, Shichiroji flitted in and out of consciousness. He came to, drowsily for a bit longer during the proceedings.
“Hey you.” He managed a weak smile to Kanbei. “You’re definitely no angel. So that must mean we’re still alive huh?”
“Yes my friend.” Kanbei was shocked to see those familiar eyes again. “Hush now, and go back to sleep.”
“Yeah, I think I will.” The blond replied. “I do feel sleepy still and I ache everywhere”
“So, stop rambling and go to sleep already.”
“You stop nagging like a fish-wife and I will say g’night.” Shichiroji joked softly and with that, he fell to sleep again.
“I’m sorry,” Kanbei whispered to his patient. “I hope the next time you open your eyes you do find your angel, more worthy of you than me.”
…
Kanbei disengaged the stasis chamber, from the cruiser carried it with some difficulty to the bank of the river. He checked it for malfunctions and was glad to find none. They never had an occasion to use it before so it was still had plenty of breathing air in its slim tanks. He disabled the auto-locator, selected and set a temperature, keyed in several other commands on the operating panel and then he was ready.
With great care, Kanbei picked up the wounded soldier and placed him in his new sleeping quarters. He made sure the harness secured his friend; on his good side Kanbei positioned his friend’s fighting staff, pillowed and padded the wounded arm so it would not jar too much. As a final gesture of salute, Kanbei knelt by the side of the machine, bowed his head and whispered, “Godspeed and God bless.” He pressed a switch and with a ‘whoosh’, the cover slid close. The kneeling samurai observed the readings on the panels for a few minutes and saw that everything was in working order.
…
He had chosen dusk as the time for pushing off. It would give more time for the sleeping chamber to float further along the river under the cover of darkness. They were lucky and remained undetected and Kanbei prayed that their luck would hold out still. The lavender grey skies turned dark pink and orange and the sun wavered low over the water, twilight crept fast with the water slapping gently on the riverbank. In the darkened evening in the distance, the small winking lights of the machine were like fireflies on the water.
Then, when the lights were no more, Kanbei turned away and purposefully walked away. He was dressed, but he decided to forego the military greatcoat. He decided he would wear white from now. Perhaps for mourning, more for remembrance and yet he could not let go completely, for he took his katana with him for now was not the time.
Owari
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