Earth is nothing like water. With water, if you simply cast in your nets or fashioned a spear and waited, you could feed yourself at any time of year. If you walked far enough inland, the salt left it and you could quench your thirst. If the world had taken the earth away from him and left him with only a net and a boat, he could have lived on the sea his whole life easily and never complained. He plunged the spade deeply into the ground again, upturning a large stone that he picked up with both hands and carried to the wall he had been building the better part of a week. A week and still the garden was a month away from completion. Earth was unkind to him. It did not move properly and it required care in order to yield anything at all. Even when something did come of all the toil put into such an endeavor, you had to wait for it and he was anything but patient.

He couldn't have said why he continued to return or what had guided him back to Zuikou's temple in the first place. He had simply found his way there after parting ways at the crossroad. He'd never been anywhere in his life that he felt he belonged and he still had not. With them, though, every once in a while he felt like he might find that place so long as they found it together. After a long time, he came to understand that the feeling meant they were the closest people to family he'd ever had in his life. He'd left them because he understood that, so long as they traveled together, they would never know safety or peace. That wouldn't have mattered so much to him or even old fish face, but she didn't deserve it. She deserved to have a life.

He remembered promising himself he wouldn't look back at them. He broke the promise at least five times before he couldn't see their forms any more. Fuu went first. She seemed lighted along the road and, often, the sun hit in just the right way so that her hair almost looked as if it were on fire. She vanished behind a tree and then was gone forever. Jin, on the other hand, remained in his vision for a long while, a tall and dark figure walking in the opposite direction along a tree-shaded lane that gradually vanished over a hill. He sighed at the memory. He could barely admit to himself that he'd considered following them. First he would have caught up with one, then the other, if only to convince them to remain with him a night or a week more. He hadn't been alone in all the time he had been separated from them, but, for the first time, he was lonely. They had fallen into a rhythm, a comfortable gait that had taken them through battles as well as the silent evenings around a campfire.

"Shit."

He drew the blade of the hoe back and scowled at the roots he'd found grown tightly around a rock. Both had to go. If the rock stayed, it would interfere with the rows of vegetables being strait and clean. Zuikou would most likely have a fit and tell him to start over again. If he left the roots, they would choke the seedlings that were to be planted near it. He frowned as he looked at the roots and wondered what kind of plant would grow around a stone rather than burry itself into the earth. Instead of cutting the roots away, he dug the stone up, freed the roots that had shallowly slipped into the earth, and placed the large piece near the base of the wall where the roots could still reach the soil. When he turned, he saw the old monk watching him from the porch.

"Come in. Lunch is ready."

Mugen nodded and gathered his tools. He put them away and washed his hands before joining the monk for their mid day meal. It was never much: a bowl of rice, some steamed vegetables and some sort of soup. He was grateful, though. Zuikou had taken him in without question, had bandaged any wound he'd had without question and had let him live quietly without ever mentioning his presence to anyone in town or who came to visit the temple. Mugen knew they were looking for him. He'd killed too many of the shogunate's men for them not to be searching for him.

He walked into the kitchen area where he was used to eating his meals only to see the slender form of a young woman standing in the doorway. He paused and scowled deeply when their eyes met. "You have to be fucking stupid coming to find me here. You could have led them here, you know?"

She smiled coyly and shrugged. "I was careful. In any case, I knew you would want this information," she held out the scroll to him and he took it sharply. Her smile melted away. "I can't help you anymore, Mugen. I want to, but I can't. If they ever connected me to you, I'd be risking more than just myself."

"Not really sure why you've helped me at all, Yatsuha," he opened the scroll and read it slowly. His reading had improved a great deal in the time he'd spent with Zuikou. His eyes widened as he read the kanji. "So… They've had her all this time. Here I thought I was helping."

"There is not much time," he looked up and nodded to the monk. "I will pack you something to take with you. You know how to make your way."

"The wall isn't finished."

"Finish it when you return," Zuikou turned and walked back into the kitchen.

He looked one more time to Yatsuha and found her eyes were turned from him. "Don't look for me again. Don't come here again. This is my fight."

It didn't take long for him to gather his things together and go. She watched him vanish into the overgrowth on the boarder of garden and then let out a long sigh. "I won't ever see him again."

She walked out to the road and joined her companion. "Did you tell him?"

She turned and met Otowa's gaze. "He doesn't love me. That's where it stands."

"He can't save her. The odds are too bad."

"I don't know," she mused and smiled once more. "Luck has always been on his side."