Mugen comes crashing feet first through the door just when she expects him to: that sliver of time between her being threatened and having her head chopped off (or some other similar means of demise). His sword flashes wickedly in the moonlight, and she cringes away from the blood spraying and the bodies that are suddenly coming down around her. She screeches when a hand clamps down around her neck, and in an instant Mugen is there, eyes bright and teeth bared. The man behind her doesn't even have time to protest before Mugen runs him through.
"Dumb broad," he scowls, but there is no annoyance in his voice tonight. He crouches down to untie the ropes from around her wrists, rubbing the red marks they have dug into her skin. "You ok?" Fuu nods, and Mugen brushes his rough fingers across her brow, an unconventional caress for just a moment. Then Jin enters the trashed room and whatever it was that hung in the air between them vanishes.
Fuu knows that this is the closest thing she will ever get to a display of affection, if you could even call it that.