Eight years later..

Mugen rose slowly on the deck of his docked boat and pressed the heels of his palms to the small of his back. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't sore, sweaty or covered in sand and dirt. He looked up at the ashy sky and judged that he had only a few moments before the sun was completely gone. So he pulled the leather tie from his hair, kicked his tattered shorts off and jumped into the water. The frigid temperature momentarily stopped his heart, but he was long used to the feeling. Reaching down, Mugen grabbed a fistful of sand to scrub over his brown skin. He'd done enough work today. And yesterday. And the whole fucking month before that. If Mugen had learned anything in the year since he had acquired this old junker in a game of chance, it was that the upkeep on the double-damned floating pile of wood never ended. But every smooth board of it was his.

He dragged his tired body out of the water and flung himself down onto a patch of grass. Naked, he lay with his hands behind his head and watched as rain clouds begin to choke out the stars. The stretch of beach he called home was located in an odd valley cut out of a mountain. The surrounding rocks and trees gave him plenty of privacy, but the actual beach was far enough out that he was able to see trouble coming. He also had a comfortable understanding with the locals in the closest village; he would do odd jobs and defend them with his sword in return for food, tools and seclusion. All in all, he pretty much had it made.

If only…Mugen crushed the thought before he finished forming it in his mind and he really pissed himself off. He wouldn't think of those two damned suckers he'd walked all over Japan with and had nearly died for. The more years that passed, the more blurry their faces became in his memory. They had taught him what it meant to truly be lonely, if only because of their absence. And the assholes hadn't exactly tried to find him, had they?

"Ah, enough of that sappy shit, brother" Mugen said out loud. His rough voice seemed out of place in his ears. He was surrounded by sound; the pitch of the ocean, the creak of his boat rocking in the waves, and the din of wild animals and insects. Night sounds. His long mended left arm and his old bullet wound began to ache as they always did when the sky started pissing rain.

Mugen climbed the short rope ladder onto the deck and entered the small cabin that held his sleeping futon and what few material possessions he had chosen to keep over the years. He shrugged on a black sleeveless shirt and loose black pants. He hadn't cut his hair since he'd nearly died on the island and it fell to his waist. He thought about cutting it for the thousandth time, but reconsidered and took a moment to tie it back. No wonder Four Eyes had kept his hair so long; women couldn't seem to keep their hands away from it. Or him. Would Fuu like it so long? Would she thread her fingers through his hair and pull him to the ground? It had been eight years since he saw her last. How many lovers had she had by now? How many kids? Did her husband have to continually save her ass like he had? These questions made him feel mean and hard, and the passing of time had not lessened their effect . Mugen ran his hand down his face and rubbed his fingers over his lips. He needed a distraction. He made an instant decision to go the village and get drunk. Maybe find a woman. A quiet one that didn't smell like sunflowers. He pulled on his cloak, grabbed his sword and knives, then headed off towards the village.

Mugen barely made it to the village before the rain started to come down in sheets. He ducked under the eave of Old Man Hiro's food stand and called out a greeting as he pushed his wet hood back from his face, "Yo! Hiro! What'cha got to eat tonight?".

Hiro looked up from his cooking and laughed out loud in pleasure at seeing one of his favorite people. "Mugen! What brings you out on a nasty night such as this? Couldn't go another moment without my delicious eel, eh?" After handing a customer his order and sending him on his way, Hiro bent down and snatched a bottle and two cups from the shelf underneath the counter. "Sit down, boy! Let's have a drink and discuss why you're out here in the rain with an old man that smells of fish and not in the warm bed of one of the lovely town widows!"

Mugen grinned at Hiro, tossed back his cup and then sucked in his breath. "What the hell kind of sake is that?" Hiro refilled Mugen's cup and guffawed. "It ain't sake! It's a special brew I make to share with dumbshits like you who wander outside on nights such as these!." After he'd had two more cups of whatever Hiro had in his bottle and a plateful of fried eel, Mugen threw some coins on the counter and made to leave.

"You know, Mugen," Hiro said thoughtfully, "you might wanna know that some fancy lady showed up this morning with her daughter. They're staying at the inn at the end of town. Pleasant enough, but somethin' just ain't right about them. They looked nervous and avoided meetin' eyes with anyone. Didn't find out what they were here for or how long they planned to stay."

Mugen raised his eyebrow and asked, "And you think I care, why?".

Hiro rolled his eyes, pocketed Mugen's money and replied, "Because they also have two samurai with them. The whole affair smells of trouble, my friend. And you may think I'm an old fool, but as many secrets as you think you hide from me, I know that you and trouble have a long history.".

As soon as Mugen entered the tavern, he sensed that something was different. Instead of the noisy, boisterous bar crowd that he had grown accustomed to, almost everyone sat talking quietly and formally in their seats. And the place was overcrowded for such a unwelcoming night. Hn. Maybe there was a special event tonight, Mugen thought. All the better for his purposes. He would definitely have a nice choice of women. He strode to the bar and asked the slightly desperate looking young man behind the bar for sake. As he waited for his drink, he turned and studied the scene. He noted every man and woman that had visible weapons and which of those looked capable of a good fight (a long habit). Then he tried to make sense of what exactly the shared mentality of the patrons was. His focus was lost for a moment as a tokkuri of sake was placed near his arm, but was instantly recaptured when he caught sight of two women sitting alone in the farthest corner. All of the occupants of the place were drawn to this one table. The woman facing him was attractive. And completely unfamiliar. She had the face and bearing of a noblewoman. But her clothing, merely serviceable with no flair or decoration, did not match her demeanor. Mugen took a small second to appreciate that this fine lady was wearing a poorly designed disguise. As he poured the surprisingly excellent house sake into a sakazuki, he casually glanced over again to inspect the other female kneeling at the table. He could only see her back, but the sight exploded inside of him. A small figure dressed in a pink kimono, her obi obviously tied in the front. Dark hair twisted in a loose bun and pinned with two cheaply made sticks. Mugen was moving across the room before he knew it. He could dimly hear the whispers of the locals he was walking past. He could dimly see the face of the noblewoman discover his approach in alarm. He could dimly hear the gasp of the pink kimono girl as he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"Fuu?" Mugen asked softly.

And when the girl turned, he saw Fuu's sweet face. Her eyes that had sparkled at him when she was happy or supremely pissed off. Her fine nose. The lips that smiled sweetly at him when she was pleased or frowned and trembled when she was lying over his broken body. He closed his eyes against the hot relief that blazed from his toes to his heart. He had found her. But when his eyes opened, Fuu's face melted and changed into the face of someone else. A stranger who was looking up at him in terror. Mugen felt the sharp edge of a sword at the back of his neck.

"Remove your hand from the girl. Now." a deep, measured voice ordered.

The timbre of the voice shook Mugen to his bones.

"Jin?"