Title: Some Night

Characters: Mugen x Yatsuha

Anime: Samurai Champloo

Timeline: Immediately after "Bogus Booty"

Warning: Expect cursing, violence, and black humor. Oh, and there's a possibility I was expand this drabble with a lemon. Depends on the response I get. Beware.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Just borrowing. Also, I did absolutely NO research for this story. I wrote it by the seat of my pants. Once again, beware.

Right outside the forest bordering Kansai…

There are people who have some kind of direction in life. The ones that figured out what they wanted to be when they grew up. It doesn't matter if they ever achieved the dream. They still managed to figure it out. Some people even found enlightenment during their short time in this world. Harmony. On the inside. And out.

Well, fuck all that noise, Mugen wasn't that complicated.

Life was pretty simple to him. Pick whatever direction annoyed him less and keep moving. Survival instincts. That's it. It really was that simple. There was no stopping. No thought to the outcome. And there were absolutely no attachments allowed. (Whores were okay, though.)

So, really, how the fuck did he get here? No, seriously. How did he end up being conned into following that little bitch all over the goddamn world? Why was Jin still alive? He should've maimed that bastard forever ago. And what the fuck is a sunflower?

Bent over with his face buried in palm, Mugen squinted between the splices of his fingers and grit his teeth against a migraine. His temple was throbbing from the inside out, pulsing against his fingertips. Pound, pound, pound—sunflower?—pound.

I gotta stop thinking so hard. He squeezed his eyes shut. Shit's bad for me.

"What were you even doing beneath that tree?!" Fuu's shrill screaming hammered nine-in-nails into his skull. "Why were you half naked?"

Fuu was five feet of woman and most of that was mouth. Her narrow body cast a sharp shadow over him as she folded her arms across her small breasts. "You're still half naked, you know."

"Jin." Mugen hissed between his teeth and patted his naked shoulder blade, blindly searching for something sharp and pointy. "Quick, help me kill her."

"My back…"

Tall, dark, and four-eyed was of absolutely no use. Why? Because unlike Mugen, who spent the whole night being played by a hot ninja girl, Jin actually got to have his nookie and eat them two. And in the grand tradition of their little trio, things had gotten completely out of hand. There were still splotches of blood staining his kimono in elegant swishes of crimson. It was pretty fresh. Barely ten hours old. Easy to smell. Cloying and stannic.

Washes of black silk were loose, curtaining his face. Wild and knotted sable ocean. With one hand braced on the tree trunk and the other pressed against his lower back, he hung like a limp, wet wash rag made of sleek muscle and bone. "I can't go on like this anymore, Mugen. The women…" He shuddered and a bone cricked and cracked. "My…" He sunk into an elegant heap. "Back."

"Cry me a river, asshole." Mugen grumbled and fingered the earth in search of something to bludgeon himself in the head with. "I can't believe I didn't get any last night. How does that work? Am I losin' it..? Is the sexy…fading?" He dropped back against grass, arm draped over his eyes. "Quick, Jin. Kill me."

"Very well," came the smooth, calm. "But my back…"

"Forget Jin! I'm gonna kill you, you jerk!" Fuu stomped over him, crushing grass beneath her sandals. "Where are you clothes? Let me guess, you left them at the brothel, perv! Why do you guys even need to go to places like that when you have me around?!"

She was always peddling that last tune. He wasn't even sure if she knew what the hell she was saying. What the fuck were they supposed to? Gang bang their fifteen year old sidekick.

Right...

So who was the actual perv in that equation?

"Mugen." Jin wheezed. "Forget the clothes. Run away…naked. You…have…to. " That was the end of Jin for a while. Lush, black eye lashes swept closed as the ronin finally surrendered to dreams.

Shoulders bunched, Fuu glared at one idiot to the other and balled her hands into fists. "Give me a break! Guys, we were supposed to leave for Nagasaki today! Have you forgotten that you guys promised to help me find the samurai who smells of sunflowers!?"

Son of a fucking bitch, how could they forget? No, really. How did anyone who came within a five mile radius of this bitch ever forget? She only mentioned as LOUDLY as possible every two seconds. On the fat chance that she wasn't screaming it at the top of her lungs, she was wailing it into his ear.

His stomach rumbled, hunger folding in a vicious hunger pang. It almost made him throw up. Nausea and the stale remnants of Saki roiled at the back of his throat in greasy, acid ball. Noodles. I need noodles and…oden stew.

Finger curling around his sword, Mugen butterflied and bucked off the ground, landing nimbly in a squat. Soil was soft and wet beneath the balls of his feet, grass cool against the knuckles as they dragged. Hunched like a Neanderthal, he started walking, feet moving long before he'd made any conscious decision about where he was going.

"Where are you going, Mugen?!" Just rage. Nothing, but pink and frilly, feminine rage. The scream scarred birds out of the forest. "You need clothes, idiot!"

"Will you shut the hell up already?!" he hollered over his shoulder, and then, cursed as a vein in temple nearly exploded. "Little…bitch."

He was wearing pants. Isn't that enough?

Probably not.

Goddamn it.

Less than an hour later, Mugen found himself at the same brothel he'd been at last night. He didn't make it past the door. He was flat broke. He was half-naked. And he was pretty sure the bump on the top of his head was starting to grow limbs. God, he was so hung over. Like goddamn it. Everything was hurting. Even his nut sack hurt. He wasn't in the mood. Right now, he was absolutely not to be fucked with. Real shit.

"Hey! Give me my goddamn pants!"

"Sir?! What pants?! You're wearing pants!?"

"Why is he naked?!"

"Get 'em!"

"But he's naked!"

The door exploded. Splintered and shattered into a thousand pieces as a human body decimated paper and frame like a wrecking ball. Mugen flung himself around the room like a corpse on a dangerous and tight string, slicing and hacking his way through flesh. He wasn't killing them yet. But hey, if they wanted to keep running their fucking mouths, Mugen could surely take it to where shit wasn't left breathing.

A guard sliced. Mugen ducked and steel swooped overhead, slicing off strands of furious, black curls. He rushed forward and dove into a one-handed stand, propelling his legs like a helicopter. A ring of six assholes went flying, kicked into the air like bomb fallout. And he sprung up in a counter flip—feet dropping overhead in a backward loop—and nailed one of those suckers to the floor. His pudgy stomach pillowed Mugen's feet as he crucified him to the floor with little more than a slitted glare. "I want my goddamn clothes. Now."

The man's eyes were showing far too much white, black pupils beady. They were practically bulging out of his head. He scanned the destruction; women huddled and cowered in the corners, samurai and police men scrambling across the floor in broken heaps. "You…" He wheezed. "Did all this…for pants?"

Mugen's mouth flattened. "Noodles, actually."

"Whaa?! I thought you wanted pants?!"

"I'm wearing pants, jack ass!" He stomped the man's chest and ragged breath and salvia flew from the man's face. "I want the rest of my clothes."

"That's enough, loverboy." The voice was feminine. Hard, cool—strangely hypnotic. Despite every molecule in his body telling him not to, Mugen couldn't help it. He wasn't the kind of creature who stopped to think things throw. If he had, he would've known better. He would've ran his mostly naked ass out of town, but that just wasn't him. Not one bit.

Someone else might have run from her.

Not him. Not now. Not ever.

"Yo," Mugen's nose wrinkled like an animal's snout, smile sharp and far too wide. "You come to finally make good on that promise? If not…" He lifted his sword. "I'd run."

The woman standing in the middle of the smoking aftermath of chaotic destruction had made up her mind just this morning. Yatsuha was going to marry that animal. The sinner standing in the shadows with hellfire in his eyes, Mugen, would be her husband one day. It was already decided, whether he knew that or not.

What a pain in the ass.

She swept sharp, accessing eyes across the wreckage. He'd told her to run. Sure, someone else might have ran, but she'd already run from him. She'd gotten as far as the road that would lead her back to Edo, and turned back. Cowardice just wasn't in her system. She'd made him a promise, she'd keep it. Besides, someone had to put this problem child in his place.

Red flecks spiked in his eyes as if he'd heard her on unspoken thought and he rushed forward, sword cocked to kill. She skated back, gliding across smoke and air, and plucked a fat sack of ryo from between breasts. He swiped and she parried off the wall over his head, landing with nimble feet on tall geisha sandals.

Wind movement. Steel cutting the air. Yatsuha quick-drew her blade and blocked his attack, sparks and embers cracking where metal met metal. Her bicep quivered, faint shocks of pain twinging down to her wrist. She could already see it now—this guy, this was gonna be a hard lay no matter what. He shoved and their blades scraped, her entire arm spasming form the force. A muscle in her jaw ticked, sweat beading on her temple. "Remember that secret I told you, remember what I promised…?" she whispered, heat bleaching her cheeks. Remember what I said I'd let you to do to me.

"Yeah. So what?"

She couldn't say the words out loud. Not here.

Everyone and anyone could hear them. Not to mention, the crowd gathering in at the breaks and gaping holes in the building. Their entire conversation was practically under a spotlight. She took the opportunity to heave the bag of money at the establishment's new owner. "For the damages."

The squatting pimp knew who she was. After they'd taken down blank, her cover had been completely and utterly blown. Granted, she'd come dressed like a Geisha, so most people didn't recognize her as any else, but she'd made sure that this man would before she'd left town the first time. She wanted to make sure her friends at the brothel were taken care of. She wanted to make sure they weren't placed in cruel hands. Not ever again.

The pimp wasn't a pimp at all, but a retired teacher, which is precisely why he wasn't swinging a sword in the madness, but ducked beneath a chair with the girls huddled around him. He gathered the money with knobby hands and offered a nod of gratitude.

"Hey, pay attention, goddamn it!" Muden shoved, metal cringing, sparking.

Yatsuha jerked her blade back and the absence of resistance sent Mugen flying right into an upper cut. Crack!

Blood sprayed from his nose as he crashed in tangled pile of limbs for feet away. Her knuckles felt like jelly—hot and floating, but she opened her shaking hand and sheathed her sword. "Are you coming?"

He didn't budge from his pretended grave. "Why?"

"I made you a promise. I intend to keep it."

"Where, oh, where have I heard that bullshit before?"

She didn't even merit that with a response, sandals nearly silent as she made her way to where the door used to be. "Come on, I'll buy you some noodles."

"I need my clothes."

"No…" She whispered as the crowd parted for her like the red sea. "You don't."

The hotel room was nice. Really nice. The kind that came with a private bath and room service. It was almost as nice as the one him and Jin had rented the night before. Actually, the more he thought about it, a lot of shit had changed in less than twenty four hours. To think he'd been fishing around this time yesterday.

Now he was sitting in the middle of steaming baths with absolutely no idea how he got to be that naked. Seriously. All he'd done was walk through the door and old men had come from all four corners of the room to attack him into a bath. Said he needed to be prepared for something. They weren't wearing regular clothes, they had a uniform appearance, and there was something archaic about the insignia stitched on the heart of their vests.

They probably worked for her. Or maybe, they worked for her family. Who knows?

Curls wet and weighted with water were hashed over his eyes and steam blistered his pours as he sank back into the water, eyebrow twitching. "What the hell is going on here?"

All I wanted was noodles.

The soft pitter patter of feet padded across the wood and the door leading back into the hotel room snapped open and shut.

Yatsuha wasn't wearing anything,but a thin white linen robe. Even without any of that makeup crap on her face, she was easy on the eyes. Wasn't like it was extraordinary or anything, but her features were soft. Eyes big, mouth flushed from where she'd been nibbling it. She was curvy for a warrior. Probably had a killer appetite. And her hair was longer than he'd originally thought. It was down, flowing down in blackish, brown locks, like she didn't mind getting it wet right before bed. Odd for a girl.

He wanted her to be scared. She was far from it. And she wasn't weak either.

Mugen deliberately raked a lecherous gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her dainty white toes. "Why?"

She didn't answer him, gaze guarded. Her fingers trembled as she dipped her foot into the spring, ripples pulsing around the intrusion. She was shaking. He wasn't sure why, because he couldn't shake the impression that she really wasn't scared. Like at all. They said little else as she stepped into the water completely, the hem of her robe floating in the water. Water sloshed and lapped as she seated herself near a large boulder. It provided a natural awning between them.

He opened his mouth to ask her what the fuck was up, but was silenced as the robe appeared on the water's surface, abandoned and floating free.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Depends." He dropped folded his arms behind his head, having made the sudden decision not to give a fuck from this point on. "What's on the menu…?"

Water running and whirling. She was moving. He could feel the currents hit his skin and her shadow darkened over him. It was a tall shadow. She was standing. The scent of cherry blossoms and honey suckle wafted from her wet tresses, and he didn't even bother opening his eyes. "What makes you change your mind now? You spent the whole night leading me on."

"I spent the whole night working, asshole." She sunk back into the water, her knees caps brushed the edge of his foot. "And this morning…I…had something to take care of."

"Liar."

Wind movement. He caught her hand before it could connect with his face and hauled her stubborn ass closer. Skin against skin. Soft and sweet. Her nipples were pert, slick against his chest. She struggled, throwing punches, but the menace just wasn't there. He had her sitting on his lap, facing him in less than thirty seconds. Legs splayed and bent at the knee, arms pinned back and one of his hands trapping hers against the small of her back. He touched her mouth with his other hand, rough calloused thumb peeling back her bottom lip. She flushed, pink splotches kissing her skin from ears to naked breasts, but didn't seem inclined to break eye contact. Her eyes narrowed. Hellfire.

He crushed his mouth to hers. Bring it.

The End (Well, for now.) I have no idea if I'll do anything with this drivel. I just felt like be productive today. On that note, if there are errors I totally mind not if they are pointed out. Likewise, reviews and feedback are appreciated! :) Soph