He hated that look in her eyes. When her cheeks puffed out and flushed a deep pink. When her eyes would crinkle in the corners and the tears would gather on her bottom lashes. He hated that look. She would stare at him with such emotions and a flash of betrayal seemed to grace her. Like he betrayed her.

And he guess that he did in a way, betray her that is.

She had loved him with everything that she had. She had showed him that innocence that he never could understand, nor could understand to this very day. She nagged him, cried for him, yelled at him, saved him, fought him, cursed at him… she loved him. Loves him.

All she asked was for him to help her find the man that smelt of sunflowers.

And after that, after they found him, she kept to his side. She nagged him, cried for him, yelled at him, saved him, fought him, and cursed at him. And they continued on. He couldn't be bothered to count the days anymore as they bled from one to the other. Some days standing out more than others—the day was just another one.

They woke up to Fuu mournful sob. Her kimono spotted in a deep red, "that's blood," Jin supplied eyes narrowed at the blood mark. His eyebrows creased. Mugen rolled over to take note of the situation, the girl had started sleeping closer to him each night.

Fuu flushed darkly, staring down at her clothing. "It's a week early," she voiced softly to herself using her hands to cover the spot. Her attention drifted upwards towards her two companions, and her flush grew darker. "Ehh!?" Her voice broke and her hair stood on end. She shot up from the ground, bowing slightly, "nothing to worry about here, nope nope!" she laughed weakly and quickly left the run down hut that they had come across the night before.

The boys didn't see her until morning. Her kimono clean and a flush permanently on her cheeks for that whole day.

When any woman seemed to take notice of either one of her companions she would find herself in a fit of jealously. And she was jealous, she was jealous that the two of them could leave and not regret it. She was jealous that they didn't care for her. When she found herself caring for them, so much in fact that just the thought of parting ways sent her stomach into her throat and made her sick.

It once made her lose her appetite.

It made her angry that they could just up and leave her whenever they pleased to find a woman when even the thought of dating a man made her feel guilty and sick. And even when her feelings emerged, that jealously only got worse. Over both of them. Jealously over Jin leaving; how dare he go and enjoy himself when she can't. Jealously over Mugen; how dare those women sleep with him while she cannot.

It made her sick. It made her sad. It made her angry.

"Oh gross!" she whined shoving him out the door. "You stink of sex and cheap liquor! Go take a bath, you dirt bag!" she yelled. She hated that smell, followed by that swell of tears that would gather at the bottom of her eyes. Just one wrong turn would threaten to spill it, opening the gateways to the snot and the tear stains. She hated that she couldn't stop it. Hated that it was a natural reaction now. Just like the feeling of relief that she would feel when he sees him again. That swell of her heart that she would feel when she would roll over in the night and end up pressed against his back. The disappointment that she would feel when he would wake up in the morning and not mention that she was hugging him to her.

"H-hey, wait!" she yelled after them one night as they tore down into the red light district, leaving her again at the entrance. She bit her lip, "you assholes!" she shouted the next second when her stomach dropped and clenched. She turned, storming off. She knew by now that she wasn't going to get anywhere passed those guards, not after those ending remarks. All she could do now was go back to the room and pray that they—that he, would return to her.

For one day, they might not.

Jin had left that night and Mugen stayed behind. "Mugen," Fuu spoke, her eyes drifting up shyly from the floor. The man was picking his teeth, lounging back as he stared up through the window. Why did you stay behind tonight? She wanted to ask him that. She wanted to fly across the distance between them and throw herself at him. She wanted to tell him to take her now, right there on the floor, in whatever position that he wanted. She lusted for him, and it frightened her. It frightened her just how much she wanted him. How she didn't want anyone else—not because she hadn't been with someone; she couldn't care about anyone else at this point.

She wanted him and his stupid hair, his stupid face, that stupid touch of facial hair, that stupid toned chest, those stupid tattooed arms, and those stupid tattooed legs. She could handle the smell; for someone of his background he could maintain his heath and hygiene. He just didn't look like it, nor did he seem to partly enjoy it. And for some reason his attitude grew on her, and she found it… endearing, in a way.

She had moved so that she was sitting near his legs, his eyes looking at her as she shifted. She wanted to touch him. To run her hands up his back, over his shoulders, through his hair. But he wouldn't want her—he's made it clear since the very first day that they met. He didn't find her attractive, and wouldn't even if she were the last girl on this world. Because she was always just going to be a girl to him… never a woman. Fuu leaned over, her forehead touching the fabric of his shirt. She could feel him breath, the rise and fall of his chest. She could feel the muscles of his chest, and the ridges of his ribs.

"I'm in love with you," she whispered. She felt the large intake of breath, before nothing. He had heard her.

Neither one moved, nor breathed for nearly a whole minute.

"You don't even know what love is," he replied, his breath going back to normal.

She felt tear gather in her eyes, before falling onto the fabric of his shirt. Her heart beat heavy in her throat, her mind telling her to run. Run away from this—to not let him see her cry. But she didn't. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and sobbed loudly. She wanted to throw up, right then and there. She wanted to hurt him—she even wanted to hurt herself. "I do," she wheezed out between her sobs, her unattractive sobs. You're the one that doesn't know what it is, she thought bitterly as she let out a whimper.

Why was it that everything she did was unattractive?

Wasn't she pretty? Why couldn't she be pretty enough?

He would find himself turning away from her more since that night. Every time she would smile, a hand seemed to grip his heart and squeeze it until his knees went weak and his breath would catch. When she cried; she seemed to cry more since that night… he found find his own would prickle in sympathy. He would scold himself for it—he was not some kid, or woman he had no need to cry. Especially over a flat chested, good-for-nothing little girl!

Although she did develop more of a shape within the last year—he personally enjoyed walking behind her, it had the perfect view of her ass.

He rolled over took in the scent of flowers, girly shit, and skin. His eyes snapped open and he jolted up right, taking the girl who clung to his neck with him. He quickly looked around the room; he was alone with the chick. Shit. "Mugen," she mumbled rubbing her eyes on shirt, "what's going on?"

He took hold of both her arms and removed them from around his neck. He left her on the mat and moved to the other side of the room, taking the one that she started off in earlier in the night with him. "Clingy bitch," he muttered to himself and he settled down tucking an arm under his head. He spared her one glance over his shoulder—she was back to sleeping. He frowned; bitch couldn't even cling when he wanted her too. Not like he wanted her too though.

He woke up to her shifting in his arms. His leg thrown over hers and his arms holding her to him as they slept. He frowned down at his traitorous limbs; this was not what he pictured that he would wake up to this morning. Fuu clinging to him in her sleep was guaranteed at this point—but him holding onto her like a drowning man to a raft. That scared him.

He didn't need anyone but himself. He didn't.

They didn't talk about it. Not like they would have anyways.

They had gathered together enough money for lodgings for the night, and Jin had stayed in. He took note of the tension between his two companions. Each night that he left seemed to only add more—so, in his curiosity, he decided to remain in the room. And within ten minutes he regretted it.

Those two were hopeless.

And Fuu liked to call them the same. Jin shook his head at the two. An idea flickered in his mind. Their bickering was starting to get louder. And they wouldn't want the neighbouring rooms to start complaining, and then the owner may just throw them out. And there was a way to both shut them up and address this tension between the two.

He may or may not have given Fuu a slight nudge with his foot. Fuu may or may not have toppled into Mugen and sent them sprawling on the floor. And they may or may not be kissing.

No, they were kissing.

Jin silently congratulated himself on a foot well placed.

It wasn't like they planned the rest. It just kinda happened. A kiss here, a kiss there. Waking up in the mornings got a hell of a lot better, their arms and legs tangled together. Sharing body heat even though it wasn't necessary. It didn't stop the feeling in his stomach, and his chest. Didn't stop her from holding his hand in public during the day. These feelings didn't stop him from staring down at their intertwined fingers and think, what the fuck?

It didn't stop her nagging at him. Or crying for him. It didn't stop her yelling at him, or cursing at him. It didn't stop her from fighting with him at every turn. These feelings didn't change that. It didn't change how she treated him, or how she saw him. She loved him. She loves him. As much as it confused him, he knew that she cared for him.

And he had to admit.

Maybe he loved her too.

Loves.

Maybe he loves her too… just a little? Most likely more.

Definitely more.