Thanks for the reviews everyone! Here is chapter two, a little late, but still here! Thanks for reading.
Two
In all the revelation, Fuu had forgotten that she was mad at Mugen for ignoring her in favor of hitting on her friend. In fact, her vision of Mugen was becoming rose-tinted and warm partly because of nostalgia and partly because he was once again putting himself in a dangerous position to help her out. And it would have stayed that way if Mugen hadn't foolishly mused out loud, "Too bad that Akemi turned out to be an assassin. She had nice tits."
All the gratitude drained from her in an instant. She suddenly whipped around and turned on Mugen, her expression vicious and nose flaring with rage, "You know what Mugen, if you want big boobs so much why don't you go find a prostitute to sleep with, jerk!"
"'Cause I'd have to pay," Mugen muttered, shrugging.
Fuu let out a high pitched growl, turned around and started to stomp away from a clueless looking Mugen.
"What did I do?" he asked, "Hey! I'm talkin' to you, girly!"
Fuu stopped, wheeled around dramatically and fixed him with an angry glare. "It's Fuu!" she shouted at him.
"What?"
"My name. Ka – Su – Mi Fuu. Not bitch. Not dumbass. Not girly."
Mugen was taken aback by her reaction, and for a few moments didn't know how to react. So he muttered, "Never bothered you before…"
Fuu made frustrated noise. "Now it does, because you haven't said my name once since I saw you. I wouldn't be shocked if you didn't even remember my name, jerk!"
Now Mugen couldn't fight the urge to smirk, so he allowed an amused little lift of the corners of his mouth. Was that it? She wanted him to say her name. He could say it all night long: Fuu Fuu Fuu the clueless stupid little Fuu. "Alright alright," he said, "Fuu. So why—"
"Because after not seeing each other for a year, the first thing you do is hit on my friend!"
"Your friend who happened to be your personal assassin," Mugen added, as a matter of fact, "You should be thanking me."
"That is not the point!" Fuu shot back at him.
"Then what is the point?"
"I don't even know anymore!" Fuu replied, throwing her hands up and stomping away again. It amused Mugen to no end when she got all worked up, becoming stupidly and fearlessly bossy and demanding. She puffed up like a tiny screeching bird.
"So, Fuu, do you want me to go and myself a nice, big titted prostitute? Hm?"
Fuu froze, frowning angrily, fists quaking with contained rage.
"But hey, I ain't complainin'—"
"FINE," she shouted resignedly, "But if you say one more word about boobs, I'm gonna roll you up in a straw mat and dump you in the street."
Mugen cackled to himself victoriously, folded his arms behind head and followed her home.
Fuu had rented out a little room from a blind obaasan, who fortunately was gone overnight to visit her son the next town over. She cringed at the thought of bringing Mugen home when her land lady was around. They would have been kicked out into the street the moment Mugen opened his stupid mouth.
Her room was cramped and littered with little baubles and paraphernalia. The first thing Mugen noticed was the warmth and colors: bright, haphazard and relentlessly cheerful—just like its owner. It smelled of lemongrass, sandalwood and a trace of some sweet flowery scent. In one corner he spotted a small wooden box with a small mirror perched on it. Everything about the room happily shouted 'this is Fuu's home!', and Mugen felt something between satisfaction and jealousy stir in him.
Fuu had gone off to find a futon for him, and came up with her arms full of old, lumpy bedding and off-color sheets. She set them down on the opposite side of the room, farthest away from her own futon. Suddenly, she let out a tired sigh and turned to look at him with brows furrowed with concern.
"Mugen?"
"Hm?"
"We don't have to leave right away, do we?"
He glanced at her. "We should leave tomorrow. Get this over with," he told her, "Before those bastards change their minds. What, you got more important stuff to do?"
Fuu shook her head. "No, but do you think we'll be gone long?"
"How the fuck should I know, girly!" he muttered impatiently, "You got a boyfriend or something?"
"N-no!"
"Then what's the big deal?"
"N-nothing, it's just..." She looked down at her hand, "I'd have to tell my boss at the teahouse though, and leave a letter for my landlady. But I can do that all in the morning."
"Then shuddup and finish with the futon already."
Fuu rolled her eyes and quickly laid out the futon for him. She made a face as Mugen threw himself onto the dirty futon.
Fuu had forgotten how rowdy he could be, even when he was getting to bed. He pillowed into the softness of the sheets with wide, goofy grin on his face, his long limbs stretching out all angles. It astounded her that he was able to shake off the events of that night, but she supposed that was what made Mugen Mugen, though the sake probably helped. Fuu was still trembling from the encounter with the Shogunate people. Not only did her best friend turn out to be her assassin, but now the most powerful people in Japan wanted her dead. Boy, how useless was she? Maybe she did piss off a bad luck god somewhere.
Fuu quietly walked over to Mugen's slumbering form and frowned down at him. "What idiot," she murmured. She was surprised at how fast he agreed to work the mission for the Government. If there was only one thing tried and true about Mugen was that he hated authority, and the Shogun was the greatest offender in his book. Fuu didn't dare to think that he had done it for her. He didn't even greet her properly in that teahouse—there was no way he was going through the trouble of actually working for the types of people he hated for her. Killing them? Yes, because he seemed to enjoy it anyways. But serving them was a different question.
Sometimes she wondered how she even managed to even keep him and Jin by her side while searching for the sunflower scented samurai, not that they didn't attempt to (and succeed in) abandoning her. Somehow they always ended up together again, and even the ever nihilistic Mugen had accepted it as his fate. But really, they hadn't needed to stick by her at all. She was small and useless and if they really wanted to leave, they would have and she could do nothing to stop them. At least that's what she told herself.
And here he was again, with no real need to stay or fight. He could have told the samurai to screw himself and walked away. He could have easily neutralized any threat they sent his way, lose them on the Okinawa Sea until the Shogunate forgot, without once looking her way. But he was here, sleeping in her tiny room on a dirty futon with his belly full of sake and dango. That had to account for something, didn't it?
She smiled softly, appreciatively. "Thanks, Mugen," she whispered. Telling him any other time would have undoubtedly led to a squabble, and she just wanted her words to settle around him in peace for once.
He turned and muttered something about 'big tits', and Fuu had to restrain herself from smacking him. Here she was thinking about life and death and thanking the idiot and he was dreaming about boobs.
With a huff, she returned to her own futon, snuggled beneath the covers and blew out the candle.
Mugen woke up the next morning to the sight of Fuu gathering her belongings into one corner of her room. There wasn't much, just knick knacks and little trifles, nothing valuable, but she handled them like they were made of porcelain. He watched her, silently, as she gazed at a little hair ornament with sad look in her eyes, and then put it down gently before doing the same to a small, battered book. Then she sighed and ran her hands through her hair, which was not in its usual messy brown bun, and instead flowed freely down her back, much longer than he remembered.
"Guess this is goodbye," she whispered gloomily, looking at her belongings, "It was nice having a real home for a while. Guess it's just not my luck." She gathered her hair and twisted it up in the usual style, and pinned it with her two hair long hair pins, the same one she used on their previous journey.
Mugen shifted and made groaning noise to let her know he was awake. She looked over him briefly before getting up and leaving the room.
Mugen sat up and looked at the pile of her belongings. Useless things, but she had looked so sad over losing them and it irked him for reasons he didn't know. It was almost as if he was resentful, even a little envious, of Fuu and her stupid junk.
"I'm so sorry!" Fuu apologized to her boss for the tenth time, bowing down deeply in front of the old man, "But this is really really urgent! I have to go! I'm sorry."
It was early next morning before the teahouse was open for customers. It had been Fuu's day off, which made it easier for Fuu to leave so suddenly so she wouldn't be burdened with the guilt of leaving her boss, in a pinch.
Her boss, Gukuro sighed heavily, looking between her and Mugen with a disappointed look.
"Fuu-chan," he grunted, "Thought you had better sense than to run off with someone like him. They don't make reliable husbands."
Blushing furiously, Fuu spluttered, "Y-you think…he and I? No no no no I'm not eloping with this idiot! He's just a bodyguard to get me where I need to go."
Gukuro, if he had been more inclined, would have said her jealous huffing the prior night spoke a different story, but he didn't because he wasn't going to encourage it. He looked at Mugen, who seemed wholly disinterested in the conversation, but the old teahouse owner knew that the man was listening to every word. He had seen his brows twitch when she called him "just a bodyguard". His dark eyes took quick looks at Fuu that was more than just a passing glance of indifference.
Mugen was a rogue in every sense of the word, a rogue with a good face and an aura of danger and intensity that so thrilled teenage girls—until he showed his true colors as a criminal those tattoos so blatantly claimed that he was. Gukuro couldn't believe someone like Fuu was in any way an acquaintance of a man like Mugen.
"Fuu-chan," he grunted, "Naru wants to make you a bento for your journey. She also has your pay. Why don't you go get it from her?"
"Ah, really?" Fuu exclaimed happily, "Thank you so much! I'll go get it now. Mugen, wait a bit!"
"Oi, make sure to get extra dango, the good kinds! And unagi!" he shouted after her. Fuu made some irritated noise as she went into the kitchen, leaving Gukuro and Mugen alone with each other in the empty teahouse.
"So, how long did you plan this?" Gukuro asked Mugen, fixing him with a suspicious glare.
Mugen frowned. "Plan what?"
"This. Plan to lure Fuu away with you?"
"Lure?" Mugen scowled. "What are you goin' on about? You going senile? I ain't tryin' to lure that brat anywhere."
"I'm no fool!" Gukuro barked at him, "I've seen you around here. Several times. Always looking in at Fuu-chan but never approaching her. Loitering about, leering at the girls."
Mugen scoffed and turned away from the old man. "You're outta your mind. I never…tch, I don't need to explain myself to you."
"Fuu's a good girl," Gukuro continued, "She shouldn't be messing with your type. You do anything to her and kami-sama will strike you down to hell."
Mugen smirked; it was cruel, self-effacing and humorless. "I already have a special place in hell reserved for me, old man, so it won't make much of a difference."
Gukuro became alarmed, "Now listen here you—"
"I ain't gonna hurt her, if that's what you mean," he told the old man, irritably. There was a touch of forlornness to his tone that made his words seem all the more sincere to Gukuro. "Never touched a hair on her before and that ain't gonna change, so save the heart attack, old man."
Fuu came out of the kitchen with two bento boxes wrapped in cloth. She beamed cheerfully at the two men. "Naru-san gave me so much food!"
"Yeah?" said Mugen, "They must be familiar with your bottomless stomach. Or maybe they know your true form Miss Piggy."
"You're one to talk," Fuu muttered, pouting.
"Oi, I wasn't the one who out-ate half of Edo."
"I was doing it for all of us!" she protested hotly, "And I would have won too if it weren't for that stupid bug!"
"But you didn't."
"It wasn't my fault. It's not like you lasted either."
"'Cause I'm human, pig-girl!"
"Aiya, both of you get out of my hair," Gukuro groaned, waving them off, "Fuu-chan, travel safely." He sent a glare in Mugen's direction. "Don't be afraid to make use of your tanto."
"Thanks so much Gukuro-san!" she said, bowing deeply once again.
As Gukuro watched Fuu leave with the vagrant, he muttered a little prayer, "Kami-sama, please watch over Fuu-chan. Protect her from the likes of him. Actually, protect her from him."
"What do you think the Shogun wants you to do?" Fuu asked, once they were on the road. It had been so long since she had travelled. It felt odd yet familiar, like coming home after being gone for so long that home seemed like vaguely remembered dream. Nostalgia—that's what it was, nostalgia. She just wished it hadn't been tainted with death threats from really scary people.
"Kill people," Mugen muttered lazily, "Why else would they want me?"
Fuu shrugged. "I hope it's bad people. I don't want you to kill good people."
Mugen made a soft, derisive snorting noise.
"What?" Fuu demanded.
"So if they want me to kill 'good people', whatever that means, you'd be willing to die instead?"
"Well, maybe," Fuu muttered, without hesitation. Mugen frowned at her. "I mean, if I can save a whole bunch of people by dying, maybe."
"That's stupid."
"No it's not! It's a noble sacrifice, a hero's sacrifice."
"It's stupid 'cause do you really think they wouldn't kill them regardless?" he snapped at her, "You ain't in a fairy tale. Also, heroes don't die, the suckers do. They never write stories about the suckers."
Fuu pursed her lips and turned her face away from him.
"Better to stay alive than die for useless causes. There ain't nothin' romantic 'bout dying. There ain't nothin' romantic 'bout anythin'."
"Better than leading a selfish, pathetic life."
"I'm happy with my selfish, pathetic life, thanks," Mugen snarled, narrowing his eyes at her.
Fuu inhaled deeply and glared at her companion. Sometimes she wondered why she missed the asshole at all. For the next half hour they walked in irritated silence. Fuu walked just a few paces behind him, wishing she could say more to him without having it descend into another stupid argument.
Another half hour into their journey, Mugen and Fuu came upon a group of bandits ganging up on a young woman, threatening her with swords. It was the usual, even clichéd scene: a pretty woman was crying and cornered by ugly, perverted bandits, who demanded that she dump all of her possessions for them. Mugen could have yawned. Fuu reacted first; the idiot ran towards the scene, shouting, "Hey, let her go you low lives!"
Mugen released an impatient huff as he lazily drew his sword, rolling his eyes at Fuu's attempt at heroics. He grabbed her by the collar of her kimono and easily lifted her up and threw her behind him as one of the bandits darted forward. Mugen made one large slash with his sword and killed the man.
The others shouted and yelled angry threats and insults, like usual, and charged at Mugen, who dispatched them with one anti-climatic slash each. He didn't even break a sweat. "Annoying," he muttered, and sheathed his blade.
Fuu rushed over the bodies to comfort the woman while Mugen squatted down and checked the bandits for money and anything else he could forage.
"Are you okay?" Fuu asked the woman, "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?"
Mugen looked up at them. The woman was pretty, very pretty, with dark almond eyes and black hair. Her pale oblong face had just the right amount of roundness, just like one of those women in paintings. Her features were dainty and elegant, like those of a high born woman, but she was dressed in a very simple purple cotton kimono.
"I'm fine," the woman answering, wiping tears out of her eyes, "You saved me. How could I ever thank you?"
"You could pay us," Mugen suggested.
"Mugen!" Fuu chastised.
"Just sayin'."
"I'd love to," she said with a sad frown, "But I am a poor woman with nothing to her name."
"Th-That's-that's okay!" Fuu spluttered, "Don't listen to him! We're just glad you're okay!"
"Hah!" Mugen exclaimed suddenly. Fuu and the woman looked at him; Mugen was victoriously holding out a jangling pouch of coins. "One of'em was loaded!"
Fuu frowned, shook her head and turned back to the woman. "I'm Fuu, by the way. That moron over there is Mugen."
"Aya," the woman supplied, with a kind smile.
"Where were you headed, Aya-san?" Fuu asked.
"I'm going to Nagaku. I have a job waiting for me there as a maid at the Imakumo House."
Mugen glanced suspiciously at her as he pocketed the money, and was about to speak but was cut off when Fuu made a happy squeaking noise.
"Hey, that's where we're headed!" Fuu exclaimed happily, "We're going to the Imakumo House too! You should come with us!"
"If it's not too much trouble," said Aya shyly, "I would be happy to."
"No trouble at all!"
"Speak for yourself," Mugen muttered, earning a glare from Fuu.
"Are you to be employed there as well?" Aya asked, looking between the two of them.
Fuu smiled sheepishly and answered, "In a way. Sorta."
Mugen rolled his eyes. "We should get going," he grunted, "Before more idiots turn up."
"Shouldn't we do something about the bodies?" asked Aya, "It'd be disrespectful to travelers and the gods to leave them in the road to rot."
"Who cares?" Mugen groaned.
"She's right, Mugen!" Fuu scolded him, "Let's at least move them out of the way."
"Fine fine."
Mugen and Fuu pulled the bodies out of the road and covered them with large branches before they set off again towards Nagaku. Mugen walked slightly behind Fuu and Aya, eying the woman with a suspicious frown. Normally he would be all up in a pretty lady's business, but he had grown in the last few years to know better than to trust beautiful women who just happened to be travelling to the exact same place as they were. Unfortunately, it didn't look like Fuu learned a single thing from her experiences. She was happily chatting with Aya as if they had been friends forever.
An hour from Nagaku, the three of them stopped to have lunch. They sat down in a clearing off the side of the road, and Fuu opened both bento boxes for the meal. Aya had her own bento box as well, though hers was more Spartan compared to Fuu's. She and Mugen, unfortunately, ended up eating half of Aya's food as well as their own.
"You both have such healthy appetites!" Aya commented, smiling.
"Sorry, Aya-san," Fuu apologized with a sheepish smile.
"It's no trouble at all! It's the least I can do after you saved my life." Aya put away all the bento boxes while Mugen watched her. He wasn't sure what he was looking for—he wasn't even sure that Aya was a suspicious person, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Not after Sara and Akemi. It was too bad, he thought, what a hot chick. Like Akemi. Why did all the good looking broads want to kill him or steal his money?
Aya excused herself for some personal business, leaving Fuu and Mugen alone.
"Yo," Mugen muttered to Fuu, "Watch yourself around her."
Fuu blinked. "Why?"
Mugen scowled. "Idiot! After Sara and Akemi, you still haven't learned. A random woman just happens to be going to the exact same place as the people who wants your head?"
"You're being too distrustful, Mugen!"
"And you're being a moron. This is why you get into trouble all the time!"
Fuu pouted, her cheeks puffing out defiantly, and turned away.
"Oi, don't turn away from me, puffer fish," Mugen scolded, "Jus' watch yourself."
"Fine fine…"
When Aya returned, the three of them set off again on the road to Nagaku. Mugen kept himself behind the two girls, his eyes set vigilantly on the both of them.
They arrived at the Imakumo compound in Nagaku shortly after their lunch when the sun was still high in the sky. It was a terribly large imposing building built out of dark teak in the new style. An immaculate garden welcomed the three travelers as they entered through the gates.
A samurai guard greeted them stiffly and called for the head maid, who spirited Aya away towards the back of the house. The samurai beckoned Fuu and Mugen into the building. They were taken to a sparse six tatami-mat room, where the samurai Shunkuro sat beside an aged, important looking man in crisp dark robes with pointy shoulders. A really important person, Fuu thought with some anxiousness.
"Wise of you to come," Shunkuro said in that deep voice of his.
Mugen slumped on the floor, and Fuu tried to act as respectful as possible to make up for his slovenly behavior.
"This is Hotta-dono," Shunkuro introduced the old man, "Advisor to the Shogun."
"So who'd'ya want me to kill?" Mugen asked lazily. Fuu cringed at his tone, which, if she wasn't mistaken, sounded extra vulgar on purpose. She didn't put it past Mugen to be extra rude to a lord for the hell of it.
"Gets straight to the point, this one," the lord Hotta said, casting critical eye on him, "A vagrant, by the looks of him."
Mugen scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"And the other one is Kasumi's daughter?"
"Yes, Hotta-dono," Shunkuro replied.
Hotta looked almost sympathetic towards Fuu, but it just could have been the way his thick eyebrows were shaped. "It's a pity your father turned out to be a traitor," said Hotta. Fuu bowed her head, as if to apologize for whatever her father had done. "But laws are laws. However, you are fortunate to be given a chance to bring honor to your name once again."
"Yes, Hotta-dono," Fuu answered in a small voice.
"What of your mother?"
"She died," Fuu replied, "Over two years ago."
"You're an orphan."
"Yes sir."
"Lord," Shunkuro corrected her sharply, "Yes, my lord."
"Er, yes, my lord."
"Perhaps your luck is changing,"
"For the better, I hope," Fuu muttered in that small, frightened voice.
"You are of Samurai blood," Shunkuro added, "You should be proud of your origins."
Fuu frowned. She wanted to laugh. Proud? Because her deadbeat traitor father happened to be samurai? What did being a samurai's daughter get her anyways? A price on her head and a friend who turned out to be her assassin? She'd rather be a vagrant.
But Fuu only bit her lips and lowered her eyes.
"This is getting boring," Mugen whined, "Tell me what I have to do and let's get this over with."
"Be patient," Shunkuro barked at him, "The Enemy you are fighting is powerful and well protected. It will take planning and teamwork."
Fuu glanced at Mugen, suddenly worried. Planning and Mugen? Teamwork? This was going to be a disaster. Mugen, however, was taking this better than Fuu expected, although she had set the bar pretty low for Mugen when it came to proper behavior. She supposed she was surprised he hadn't openly insulted the lord and threatened to kill everyone. Yet.
"That scary, huh?" Mugen said, suddenly interested, "Now I gotta see what kind of badasses can make a lord and his prissy samurais go running to criminals for help like cowards."
Fuu stared at Mugen in disbelief, her mouth slightly ajar. She spoke too soon and gave him too much credit. Did the idiot want to die?
Shunkuro rose from his place, hissing, "Such insolent tongue—"
"Leave it, Shunkuro," Hotta commanded sharply. The samurai shut up right away but stared daggers at Mugen. Hotta, much to Fuu's relief, looked more amused by Mugen's antics than offended.
"The Enemy that we speak of, young man," Hotta continued, "Threatens the peace of this country with soldiers of frightening strength and immorality. He commands the unholy to slake his lust for power."
"You've got flair for the melodramatic, doncha?" Mugen asked, looking unimpressed.
"I only wish I was being melodramatic," the lord replied with heavy sigh, "But come now, this will be discussed when the time comes."
"When's that?"
"More warriors are on their way here as we speak," Shunkuro said, "We will discuss this when everyone has arrived."
"Tch." Mugen scratched his chin. "Then at least feed us."
"The Imakumo family will take care of you," Shunkuro told him stonily.
Hotta's gaze fell on Fuu. She flinched, as if she could feel his physically feel the weight of his eyes on her. "And the girl, Fuu, is it?" he asked.
"Er, yes, Hotta-dono."
"You will help the women of the house in performing household tasks," he continued, "The lady of the house, Chiyo-san, will tell you what to do. Be warned: if you try to run, there will be no mercy. Do you understand?"
"Uhm, y-yes, my lord."
"Good. You are both dismissed."
