And he wakes.

There's a girl leaning over him - a fairy girl, her colors all bled out from her skin and hair and eyes and even clothes. She's holding a crystal vial, full of swirling grey liquid, tilted so it won't spill. She's perhaps ten or eleven, a small twelve at the most.

And she's smiling.

"Hello!" she says, cheerfully.

-He's alive. He's uninjured. He can breathe, though breath brings the scent of blood to his nose, and grounds him from euphoria. 

And there's a girl, a fairy girl. She healed him. Why did she heal him? 

"Hello," he says, after a moment. And, stilted, "You... healed me." He breathes, the ease of it agonising, "Why?"

"You were hurt! And were going to die! And people really aren't people when they're dead, you know."

Yes, he is aware of that. Intimately. 

He should be dead. If he had survived on his own he would have hunted down the killers of his clan and likely died in the attempt but. 

She saved his life. A Heartless saved his life.

Heartless or not, he can't go off to do something so likely to kill him without repaying her for it. 

"...What do you want in return?" He asks. 

"Hm! I like people, and being around them, and talking to them, but I've been traveling and there hasn't been a lot of people around. Someone to talk to'd be nice!"

...Someone to follow her. Someone to stay at her side and be there when no one else is. That is one of the more common options in their traditions. He can do that. 

Knight to a fairy. His grandmother would be appalled. But what else is there for him? If he is harmed by her heartlessness, then isn't that only right?

"...Alright," he agrees. He sits up, slowly, waiting for her to get out of his way. His eyes scan their surroundings, flinching away from the body of San Ha-Ten. 

"...Were you going anywhere, when you found. This?" 

"I was going to the University in Bloodroot! To talk to a professor there, Star Meteor Sight, who isn't very good at written correspondence."

He looks towards his wagon, off to the right. His eyes avoid the ground. Practicality wins out over his automatic flinch at the idea of going through what's left of his family's possessions. Dying of starvation when his life belongs to someone else would be just as bad as dying of idiotic attempts at revenge. 

"May I put together some supplies before we go?" He requests. "...We can take anything left in the other wagons, as well, if you want to look. Though, there will be bodies." 

The stories aren't exactly clear on what bothers the Heartless, but if she was motivated to save him by a dislike of death... 

"Yeah! I dunno that I have enough food for you, too. I'll go look!"

Well, if she wants him, she can call for him. He nods.

The caravan is a mess. Many of the wagons are still burning, or are wrecks of bashed in planks and ripped cloth banners. Doors hang open on the few that are still standing, where they're still attached to the wagon at all. 

He stands, taking a slightly circuitous route to reach the broken doorway of his home. For no particular reason. 

They took a lot of the food - that was one of the primary reasons for the attack, aside from simple sadistic entertainment. There's enough to feed one for a week in a hidden cupboard in his wagon, consisting of unappetising hard biscuits, and it's possible there will be more in the other wagons. Probably not much appealing food, but he can deal with it, and presumably she has her own. 

Kan puts together a pack of clothes and a bedroll, and takes his father's heirloom sword from its place in the wall. Then he steps out of the wagon and goes looking for her. 

She can be found! She seems to have found some ribbons, herself, and is pouting at how they lose color whenever she goes to put them on, while entirely ignoring the bodies.

...He supposes that might be cute. In other circumstances. 

He glances at, and then quickly away from the nearby bodies. He should... start a pyre for them. If he has time. Once they have taken everything they can use. 

"I have finished packing," he says. "Are those all you want?"

"Yeah, they're pretty even without the colors, and I suppose I can tie them to non-me things."

He nods. He suspects he might soon find himself beribboned.

(His cousins would have-)

"I would like to set up a pyre for... the bodies. Or. At least set the caravan alight as we leave." 

"Sure, I guess. I might have some artifacts that can help, too."

Then he'll walk through the caravan, forcing himself to look at the faces of his kin. He wants to make sure- 

After counting them off he concludes that, yes, all of them are accounted for. The bandits didn't take any of them. 

He has to pause, then, to catch his breath and shove down the emotions growing in his chest. Is it better to be dead than whatever they would have done to captives? He doesn't know. A question that will go unanswered. 

He spends a moment containing himself. And then - a pyre. Or just freely burning the caravan. Does the fairy girl look impatient? 

She's wandered off a short distance to investigate something, but it seems to be more a result of a short attention span than any particular impatience.

Then he will start piling together wood from the broken wagons around and on top of the ones in the center of the clearing. 

 And then the bodies. He starts with the youngest, hoping to get the worst out of the way first. He places them in the middle of the pile, doing his best to keep siblings and close friends together. Keia with her sweetheart Ban, Narumi with the little ones she treated like siblings, Yu and Uda and Tekka. He pauses several times to steady himself, eyes leaking and hands shaking, swallowing down his grief until the job is done. 

Gods, but they were so young.

Next, adults and elders, placed around the children as a protective ring, close to their children or charges. He rearranges some clothing as he goes, breathless at the thought of what some had endured before death. There is no point to revenge, he reminds himself, they are beyond caring now.

This task is harder, since they're much heavier, and growing stiff. Still, it gets done, and then he moves on to his father. 

He stares down at the corpse, emotionally wrung out, practically drained. He feels nothing, or seems to, but there is a storm growing in his chest. Useful, for his purposes, but frightening - he pushes it down for a little longer, steadying his shaking, and lifts the man who's kindness killed them all, taking him to rest with their clan. 

Then he just stands there for a long moment, aching physically, and in his heart.

"...Are you okay?" the girl asks.

"...No," he admits. 

"I'm going to set it on fire now," he states. 

It's an effort of will - of wanting, setting a spark to the kindling he's been building in his chest, and then the pyre bursts into flames. 

He watches for a long moment, and then turns to the fairy. "My name is Kan Ha-Ten," he says, over the crackling of the fire.

"I'm September Morning Bell!" she says, considering him. "Why would you do something that makes you sad?"

He turns back to the pyre, searching for an answer. 

"...Because it would have made them happy, or at least at peace. And their happiness and peace are more important to me than my sadness." 

"Huh."

"I don't think fairies work like that."

He nods; this is consistent with the stories he has heard. 

He looks back at the pyre again, and then turns his back. The clearing is wide enough that no sparks are likely to reach the trees. He can leave it to burn down on its own. 

"...I'm ready to leave, now," he tells her. 

"Alright!" She glances around to get her bearings. "I've been just walking. Is that alright? I know some Heartful can go very quickly, but I didn't bring my artifact-bike."