DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Samurai Champloo, so stop asking! It just makes me depressed:-P

Mugen's Secret

Mugen despised her more than anything he'd ever come across, including stupid samurai with glasses and furry little rats. She was nothing but an insufferable little bitch that liked to whine, eat, and pester the living hell out of him.

Now women had never been his forte (unless he wanted to bed one, of course), but having to deal with a girl of Fuu's caliber truly felt like jumping headfirst into an ocean full of man-eating sharks. She would gripe, moan, scream, and do all of the most annoying little habits that would piss him off in no time, and boy, was she good at it.

And yet, in spite of all this, here he was, staring at her damned Ukiyo-e print – again.

When Mugen had first rediscovered the print he'd actually laughed out loud since Hishikawa Moronobu had not only been a huge queer, but apparently blind, as well. Fuu did not have shapely hips that flared out into a nice ass, and she most certainly didn't have the big hooters that the artist had bestowed upon her skinny twig of a body.

After the owner of the shop at yelled at him for getting free eye candy, Mugen had begrudgingly handed over his hard-earned ryo and bought the stupid thing, all the while assuring himself that it was just for the sake of a good 'ol laugh. He hadn't seen Fuu in about two years now, so he figured that there truly wasn't any harm in purchasing a print of a bitch with nice (but hopelessly fake) assets.

In spite of Mugen's theory that it was all just a joke, he would whip it out every night thereafter and stare straight into those large eyes that had relentlessly plagued him to no end, his mind always floating far from his body as he tried his damndest to remember the moment of their final goodbye.

He had actually smiled at Fuu, and she, in turn had smiled at him, thus ending their rocky relationship on a surprisingly warm and platonic note. Mugen had hated himself for having appeared to be so soft, but he'd wanted to laugh since the unbearable little wench had actually had the brains to trick him into wasting a very good portion of his life. He, a man of caution, had been outsmarted by a ditzy little waitress with the voice of a wailing banshee. Although Mugen found himself wondering about where Fuu was more and more every day, he'd never own up to the possibility that he might actually miss her. She was a bitch, and yet…

"Ugh."

Mugen groaned, glancing downward at the arousal that was now tenting through his shorts in a full-blown salute.

"That bitch" he growled, biting his tongue to the point of pain as he redirected his gaze back over toward the Ukiyo-e print in his calloused hand.

It always went on like this. Day after day Mugen would look at the stupid print, get aroused, jerk off, then stuff Fuu's picture back underneath his haori and try to enter a restless sleep. He didn't know why he did it – hell, he didn't want to know why, but the very thought of needing Fuu's print to bring him any sort of comfort scared him. This was Fuu, for God's sake, and he had to make sure he never forgot that.

Besides all that crap, why did he really care if she was now seventeen years old and most likely developed in those certain areas? So what if he felt a carnal need to take her like a rugged animal in every position he'd ever used to please a woman? He was looking at a picture of a naked girl, after all, so that had to be normal.

……Right?

Cursing his rotten luck, Mugen ignored the demanding pull in his loins and stuffed Fuu's print back underneath his haori, shuddering at the terribly unnerving thought that he'd be needing it later on…

A/N: Ok, first of all I must apologize since this idea just wedged its way into my mind and would NOT shut up until I wrote it, so voila! I'm sorry if it's crappy, but I wrote it ALL in just one day, so that would be the reason – if I get enough reviews I MIGHT do Fuu's side of the story, but we'll see. Hopefully you liked it – please review! ;0)