Samurai 7: Cherry Blossoms

A soft breeze whispered across the mountain, laden with the breathtaking perfume of pine, wood smoke, and the fragrance of the cherry tree under which Kirara now stood. And yet, it was all so still. There were no crickets, not laughter below in the village. It was as if the entire world was hushed in fear. The Nobuseri would be coming soon.

Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind one of her small, pretty ears, the water priestess heaved a sigh. Blood would cloud the water very soon. She could feel it like a heavy blanket being spread over her. She had begun to wonder if the path she'd chosen for her village was one of bravery or foolishness.

"You shouldn't be out here."

Kirara was never one to scream when startled, so she merely gasped, spinning around to face the voice. Kyuzo was standing not six feet away, his thick yellow hair stirring in the breeze like a mass of cornsilk. Kirara exhaled in relief. "I often come here to think," she said to him. "Why should tonight be any different?"

"Nobuseri scouts have passed close by in the past."

Thinking about the one Katsushiro had encountered by the gorge, Kirara shivered. For his part, Kyuzo remained motionless, his strange russet eyes never leaving Kirara's face. The water priestess felt strange and achey all of a sudden. Her eyes were drawn to Kyuzo's arm, where tiny stitches could be seen mending the fabric of his coat. The stain of blood was barely noticeable, but Kirara knew it was there. A pall of guilt fell over her.

"Forgive me, Great Samurai," she whispered, "for doing this to you."

Kyuzo tipped his head to the side. "You have done nothing to apologize for."

"But I have," Kirara replied sadly. "I brought you here. I know the impossible feelings war creates, I know the tragedy of conflict, and yet I selfishly placed the burden on you anyway. If you die fighting this battle, it will be my fault."

Kyuzo was silent, so Kirara turned her face away, unable to bear the weight of the samurai's gaze. On her wrist, her dowsing crystal gleamed faintly. In her mind she could see a muddy battlefield prowled by a shinigami, a God of Death. She pictured each of the samurai lying dead, but when Kyuzo came to mind, Kirara felt the pain in her chest more clearly. Her dowsing crystal flared even brighter, forcing her to close to her hand around it. Over the days and weeks she had become more attached to Kyuzo than any of the other samurai. Maybe it was his silent strength, or his pleasing looks, as her grandmother had teasingly suggested. And the blond samurai was about to risk death on her battlefield.

Kirara swallowed; below her skirt, her knees were trembling. There was a puff of wind, the whisper-soft tramp of booted feet. Kirara smelled mountain sage, leather and steel.

"Look at me, Kirara-san," Kyuzo's deep voice was right next to her.

Hearing the blond samurai speak her proper name, the water priestess shakily turned to face him. The moonlight shone in Kyuzo's eyes, cold and bright, as though they were lit from within. His hand rose to cup the side of her face. "I chose to fight," he reminded her.

"Yes," Kirara whispered, "but if I hadn't asked, you would not have had to choose at all. You would still be with the magistrate!"

"That was not a life," Kyuzo said. "That was an existence. I did not want it."

Kirara struggled for words; the gentle pressure of Kyuzo's calloused hand was making it hard to think straight. "That is Bushido, isn't it?" she managed at last. "Heroic courage is risky, but it is living life fully. Wonderfully. But, Great Kyuzo," she hesitated a moment, unsure what it was she wanted to say, "do you truly believe death can bring life?"

"The moon waxes and wanes eternally," said Kyuzo softly.

Kirara silently considered this. If they drove back the Nobuseri, the rice harvest would be theirs to keep. No one would go hungry this winter. From death, comes life; the moon fills with white ambrosia, is emptied, and is filled once more. Winter kills the summer, reigns for a little while, and then is defeated by the spring.

Life always returns. But one question still remained unanswered. Why would Kyuzo endanger himself for a backwater village? If not for honor or money, then what? Glory? Was fighting Kambei enough to risk his life for? Looking into Kyuzo's red eyes, Kirara wanted to believe it had something to do with her, but that was selfish, wishful thinking. She wanted to turn away, but her quivering legs wouldn't respond. Cherry petals fluttered down around them, delicate and pink, floating on the currents of the wind. In the moonlight, Kyuzo’s flaxen hair looked especially thick and soft.

Kirara caught her breath—

And then the blond samuari was leaning towards her. His hand tipped her face back, and then his lips were upon hers. Kirara's heart climbed into her throat and stuck there. This moment was nothing more than a young woman's silly dream; it should have been impossible... and yet it wasn't. Weakly, Kirara placed both hands on Kyuzo's strong, but willowy shoulders, leaning into him. His hands were those of a killer, but they held her so gently. Kyuzo turned his face so she could feel his lips moving against the corner of her mouth as he spoke.

"You gave me the chance to live, Kirara-san," he whispered. "That is why I fight this battle... and it is why I will stay when it is over."

Kirara's heart stopped. "You... you mean that?"

Kyuzo nodded gently; his lips felt thin but soft against her mouth, his breath whispering softly over her skin. The moment was infinitely precious and yet so fragile, like a bubble on the water, but that was why the cherry trees were filled with blossoms for only a few short weeks. Longer, and they would not be so prized.


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Made with Adobe Photoshop CS4 and my new favorite toy, the WACOM Bamboo! After re-watching the entire Samurai 7 series, I thought it would be interesting to do an illustration for it (with some artistic license applied).



I wrote the little one-shot afterwards because I thought the picture needed an explanation for what was going on. Enjoy! And don't forget to let me know what you think!

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