TITLE: Cruelty and the Beast

CHAPTER : Prologue - Dormant

AUTHOR : Dangy

RATING : T - Mugen's poor language. Sorry for the potty-mouth.

SPOILERS : Yush. Takes place after the series has ended.

PAIRINGS : MugenxFuu MugenxOC

SUMMARY : Takes place three years after the series' close. Mugen's disruptive lifestyle has finally caught up with him - and about time too! Three years of listless wanderings have come to a close, or so he is initially lead to believe. Fate has dealt the vagabond a new hand - one that could revitalise his damaged reputation and put to the test all the skills he had honed from his travels, but whether he chooses to embrace this opportunity or reject the offer is all up to him.

DISCLAIMER : Don't own Samurai Champloo or any of its characters. Pft. D'you think I'd be here if I owned Mugen?

Boisterous – the feverous beat of parading performers could only be conquered by the sea of festive voices that poured from the public. It was uncommon for such festivities to be held, nonetheless, when Edo finally submitted to the cultural demands of its residents, visitors would travel from afar to partake in the celebrations.

The streets were flooded with the vivid colours of yukatas that swirled from dancing girls; glistening silk painting the dull surroundings as they spilled outwards with each revolving turn. Even the small stands that offered small, domestic goods were veiled by the bright tones of the festival – no one, appeared an outcast on such a jovial night: not even a criminal considered an infringement on the face of the world. Mugen prowled through the streets adorned in his characteristic gi and tattered hakama which clung to his narrow hips. His left arm was slung casually around a young oiran that escorted him through the crowds, apparently acting more as a crutch than a companion for the drunken vagabond.

"So how's 'bout we take this to a quiet'r place," he slurred, his face inclined towards hers while they trekked further from the heated uproar of the performing artists, following the sweet aroma of jasmine that bathed her neck and shoulders. His narrow eyes were unfocused, the iris covered in a light film as a result of his steady drinking though they had definitely acknowledged the distinct bosom of his pretty accomplice and remained fixed there as they journeyed.

She had not recognised his request verbally, but Mugen felt himself being dragged further away from the hustle and bustle that circulated near Edo Bridge and into the dark reserves of the alleyways.

"This is far enough," he said after a moment's walk, where the clamour of the gala was no more than a vague drone in his head. Drunkenly, he cajoled her towards the wall; fingers fumbling with the ribbons of her robes while pressing his lips to hers with as little finesse as possible.

Then he felt it. He recognized how her fingers had briefly left his shoulders before he felt a sudden prick against the junction between his neck and shoulders, but was far too cockeyed to react to the gut instinct that warned him that something was wrong."Huah?"Soon he felt his knees buckle and saw how his fingers grasped weakly at the silken robes of the geisha as he slid down her chest to kneel before her on the cold stone pavement. His eyes grew heavy and rocked in their sockets, fumbling to define the sharp object that was attached to the woman's hand. Despite the situation, Mugen smiled wickedly as his vision began to fail, only managing to observe the soft pouting lips of his capturer and the sharp gleam of her brown eyes before his world went dark. "It's always the pretty ones…"The scent of musk was overwhelming, mingled with the distinctive smell of raw spices and herbs – many of which were foreign to Mugen. As he stirred, his body came to terms with the brutal ache of his muscles and the throbbing that pulsed through his neck, spine and head. "What the hell," he groaned, his tongue thick against the curve of his mouth as he tried to regain consciousness. He registered that he was indeed, indoors, but the lack of light made it impossible for him to distinguish any characteristics of the shack he was in. His legs ached; his entire body crushed beneath the weight of his own fatigue and although his legs and wrists had been tied by robe, he had no strength in his limbs to even attempt an escape.

Groaning, Mugen collected his thoughts, focusing on the gentle creak of the floorboards around him. "Alright, who the heck is there?" he said, turning himself on the ground with excruciating pain. As an impenetrable silence masked the positions of those around him, the convict picked up the heavy buzz of music playing somewhere outside. They were indeed still in Edo – probably only a few streets away from the main square.

"You know, you should never trust a beautiful woman, Mugen. Especially one that so willingly offers you free sake and service." The voice that called to him was hoarse and monotone – a man no doubt. He had an aura about him that Mugen could not place; a haughtiness that lingered behind his tired words that did not fit the lazy, common calibre of his speech. It made Mugen's head throb even harder. "Shouldn't trust women in general," Mugen retorted, wincing as he attempted to flex his muscles against his restraints. "Now cut the crap and tell me what you want and who the hell you are-"

"Do you realize the penalties stacked against you?" He interrupted. His vague outline was illuminated by the silver light that gleamed through the splintered wood of the ceiling, casting a portentous glow around the 'leader' of this group."Wha'?""You have committed more crimes than the majority of the living criminals kept in Edo Prison, Mugen.""Yeah. So what?""It would be the most logical thing for me to execute you right now-""Then what are you waiting for?" Mugen spat. He despised the formalities that came with people who wanted to kill him – always stating their reasons and whoring their excuses. None of them could just get it over and done with.

His choked breathes echoed throughout the quarter while a notable silence wedged itself between the two men. Again, the floorboards rattled as someone moved. He knew that there were others in the room, nonetheless aside from the odd shuffle Mugen could not make a well-informed guess as to how many there were. "However," he continued with that weary tone, "we have decided that it is in our best interests to erase these charges against you.""We?""The Shogunates as a group have decided that… it may be profitable to keep you alive – with all your infamous talents it would be wasteful to dispose of you so quickly."Mugen cursed under his breath. For once, there was no witty remark he could use and no loop hole in his capturer's announcement that he could exploit for his own amusement. Rather, Mugen was content to rest; his distant gaze narrowing on the vague outlines of the floor. "What's in it for you then? All seems good on my side so what do you bastards get out of it?"

There was a chuckle; an ominous laugh that made the prisoner shiver. Perhaps it was the absence of his swords, the fact that he was tied or the entire situation as a whole that made Mugen sweat over what he had gotten himself into. Fear was not characteristic of the twenty-two year old, yet he could not deny that all of this havoc had his hair standing on end.

"We… have a little job for you that require a man of your… expertise." Mugen's silence prompted him to continue. "We have some opposition in the south. We know that you should be familiar with the Ryukyu Islands and Satsuma. As well as that we have also been advised that you have travelled much of the south. With all your experience we think that you would be the perfect candidate to send to assassinate a few… enemies we have there.""Who are we dealing with?""A few high ranking members of our organization have been trading with the East India Company without proper consent. They are importing good illegally and exploiting their position near the Ryukyu Islands. We need you to take of it.""Why don't you send one of your fucking lapdogs down there to do it?""Because, we want this to be a quiet... investigation. These high ranking members have a lot of power and by eliminating them without our direct influence would prevent any turmoil."

There was a long pause and a bout of shuffling before silence returned to the small shack. Mugen pressed the side of his face against the floorboard, inhaling deeply the rich odor of dust and rotten wood. He didn't want to go back to Ryukyu Island. Things happened there in his youth that he didn't care to remember – people that he knew whose memories would only be a burden on his mind. Besides… he did not like being told what to do."What do I get out of this shit again?""You will no longer be hunted for your current crimes. You will be paid for your work. Along with that… you will not be killed now."

Mugen had never been one to fear death – though the circumstances by which he died had always bothered him. In this instance he felt that dying at the hand of these lunatics was far less appealing than the offer they had made. "Who's the lad, I go'tta take care off?" He imagined his captor smiling, grinning away like the little bitch he was now that he had him under control. He despised not having any authority, yet he was too dazed and confused to act as his conscience wished.

"That information will be disclosed to you when you have reached the Satsuma province by one of our agents. Any other questions.""Yeah – how the fuck am I meant to know who these people are.""They'll find you… in good time." There was a brief murmur, a shuffle and Mugen felt the ground trembled with a new flourish of movement. He was positive that control of his limbs was coming back to him, yet he was still too weak to break the bonds of his ropes. "Well do you dumb-bitches intend to just leave me here?"

"Of course. My mistake." The crisp snap of his fingers reverberated about the quarter, followed by a sudden shuffle of what sounded like sheets. Silken sheets. "Oh… and if you try to escape… well, I think you understand the process of execution better than any of us."

The soft thud of footsteps vibrated against Mugen's skull and he winced as the figure kneeled before his face, the scent of jasmine penetrating his senses. "Ahh, so we meet again," he rasped, his lips curling into his trademark smirk as the undercover oiran's cold fingers stroked the tuffs of hair that rested along the back of his neck. Again, there was that familiar prick and his body slowly obeyed the strong serum that was injected to his system. "Women always do the dirty work."

NOTES : Sorry for having to repose this again. I'm so sad. 140+ odd reviews on my last story, and now I have to post it all over again. I hate having been locked out of my email. So lame.