A/N: this is a work in progress, as always- the length of each one will be different, some way longer or shorter than the others. i'm trying to follow the general timeline of the series, but as i keep writing i've started jumping around a little bit. i'm hoping i don't jinx myself by posting this before i'm finished, lol. comments are always appreciated!

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Mugen was wild. Anyone could tell just by looking at him. His hair was an unruly mess that stuck out from his head, wind-tangled and sweat-twisted and as wide as his cocky, crooked grin. He fought with unpredictable movements. He lived with impulse. He took every breath of his life as a challenge he had no doubt of winning, even if everyone else did.

And despite this, there was a distinct something about him Fuu could trust. She knew it from the moment he'd entered the teahouse, glancing around it with a bored scowl. Maybe it was because of the sheathed sword casually slung around his back, or the calloused palms that rested under the tails of his faded, tattered shirt. Perhaps it was because of the long, thin scars on his neck and face, mystically silver against the sun-browned skin where his matted hair had been pushed away. It could have been because he sat with an almost palpable confidence, casually crossing his bony ankle over his other leg though he itched for a fight.

No, that couldn't have been it. Fuu had seen plenty of the arrogant type since she'd begun working there. It took everything she had not to shout and pour boiling water on them all. The prefect's son, running his mouth across the room then, was perfectly rude and entitled. He was like all the regulars she dreaded serving, always praying he wouldn't stick a grimy hand into her robes as he did his other female companions. Most of the men who drank here were younger, greedy and self-important, and the rest of the customers were grumpy old men who hardly acknowledged her. At first glance, Mugen could have blended into the rest of them, simply becoming another annoyance for Fuu to endure until he finished his tea.

But then, as the prefect's son mouthed off at her again, Mugen crooked his finger to signal her closer and mumbled words which made her wonder fleetingly if he'd read her mind:

I'll take him out for you for fifty dumplings.

Adrenaline shot down her spine and prickled the skin on every inch of her body. She didn't know then that she was capable of causing so much chaos and bloodshed, but knew without a doubt that Mugen could carry out his threat. Without even thinking, without knowing what this would mean for her life, she whispered back a bargain.

Make it twenty.

She knew the second the words left her mouth what made her trust him so immediately. Above him knowing how easily she would fold to his offer, above him realizing her want for escape, above his sheer reckless power, she knew deep within herself that Mugen held the power to give her what she needed: a chance to change her life. A chance to leave and fulfill the dream she'd carried all this time. A chance to find her sunflower samurai.

To Fuu, that alone was worth all the dumplings in the country, even if she only offered him a hundred.

—

The next evening found Fuu running toward the edge of town with the two men she'd saved from execution. She was far less agile and her legs were much shorter, so she lagged behind them for a bit, but she knew she wouldn't be left behind. She had been left behind by so many before, especially her mother and father.

Not anymore.

It was her turn to run away, to leave her former life in the dust.

She sucked in gasps of air as she clumsily sprinted behind Mugen and Jin, inhaling the scents of gunpowder and smoke in the humid summer air. Fuu tried and failed not to smile as she remembered her crafty trick to save them from certain death, owing her their lives in exchange. They would thank her eventually—if they didn't kill each other first, of course.

The light which coated the world around her, resting on the trees towering above them and spreading over the dusty ground beneath their feet, was a rich golden warmth that seeped into her skin as she ran. It filtered down through the forest where they took cover from the officials who chased them, highlighting paths for the trio to slip along until they found a place to rest and hide.

It wasn't until the night grew dark that Fuu realized the sunset had been the exact color of the petals on a fully bloomed sunflower.