TITLE: Cruelty and the Beast

CHAPTER : Chapter 13

AUTHOR : Dangy

RATING : T

SPOILERS : Yush. Takes place after the series has ended.

PAIRINGS : MugenxFuu MugenxOC

DISCLAIMER : Don't own Samurai Champloo or any of its characters.

It was just sunrise. All the lights of the villa were off save for the candle perched on a bamboo shaft that had been cut in half. The sky was still dark, but the stars were fading and the purplish tint from the east was beginning to rise from the horizon – infecting the darkness with light. She had slept a few hours and that had become enough. She slept so little now a days. Her looks suffered and her fragile body decayed from her trialling routine. But she had to. One day, she would witness the fruits of her labour. Soon, very soon – she was positive.

The gardens were beautiful at night; the reflections, the shadows, the moonlight on the leaves. But nothing would best Sakura in the sun. Staring at them now, she could not make out their pink petals, or the greenery that flourished on their branches. Everything was dark and indistinguishable. The moon, however, offered some solace. Bright and alone, Nekomi could not help but smile.

"You would have liked this, wouldn't you, baba," she whispered, a hand coming up to hold her waist. Saying it to herself was still painful – the memory of her father, tearing at the consolation the moon provided. Her hand gripped the flesh of her skin through her kimono, pinching it through the fabric. It hurt, but she needed it. When she was alone like this and her husband was away, Nekomi always wanted to find out who killed her father. It was in the records she knew she knew, and the knowledge itself was overwhelming temptation. But she had to be strong. Her father would have never approved if she went out of her way to avenge him for a life he was willing to give. Nekomi was aware that if she ever uncovered the murder's identity, she may not be able to stop before he was dead and buried.

"That's a scary lookin' face you got there, Nekomi."

Nekomi closed her eyes at the sound of the voice, her smile erased. Mugen hobbled over the wall, jumping down as nimbly as he could. He stumbled, but regained his composure and was glad above all things that Nekomi did not turn round to watch his ungraceful entrance.

"How did you get in without my guards noticing?"

"Pretty easily." He staggered forward and held a hand to his side. It was a good thing that her house and his victim's houses were not too far apart else he would have had some trouble.

"How's Fuu?"Nekomi cocked a brow and turned to face him.

"You have not seen her?"

"I was busy with some business I had to finish." Had it been Fuu, she would have been torturing him for answers, but Nekomi nodded and accepted it. She was tired. Yesterday morning she had looked okay, but without the makeup it was even more of a shock. On the street without her ornate clothing she could be mistaken for an impoverished beggar. With so many luxuries it seemed absurd that a woman of her status should look so weary. She carried herself grandly, nonetheless.

"You have not seen her yet?" It was true that he had left the other manor a time ago, and could have gone back to Fuu but he couldn't bring himself to do it. With her constant nagging he was sure she would cause a commotion. He did not particularly want to see Nekomi either, but with such an injury fate did not provide many other solutions. He clutched his stomach, annoyed at the pain more than ever

"I've been busy," he repeated.

"And you need help?" Although she spoke calmly, Nekomi's face was taught with concern. She moved over towards him but left a gap between them.

"You are hurt, Mugen," she whispered, motioning to the blood that stained his shirt. It was like he was a little boy again, blooded up by hanging around criminals, fighting and butchering others to ensure his own safety. In spite of the years that separated them, it remained customary to help. Blood no longer frightened her and Mugen's aggressiveness no longer surprised her.

Just as she approached he snapped at her, trying to flick her hand away from touching – dirtying her white hands with his blood. He exhaled, unable to find words to compensate for his lack of grace. Evidently he did not need them.

"Inside. My room has the equipment we need to help the cut."

Defeated, Mugen allowed her to walk close to him and leaned against her twiggy frame. She walked with him to her room, through the dark without any injuries or stumbles; a feat he would not have been able to accomplish without her being there. Since he had come, it was getting brighter, purple turning into fresh pink over the horizon, washing out the rest of the indigo from the sky. Inside, the rooms were still delightfully dark. The maids were waking in the lower floors, preparing for their chores, pattering around beneath them. Upstairs was devoid of any life save for them.

In Nekomi's room they kept the blinds down. She searched in her draws for a spare bit of roll and alcohol while Mugen was rested up against a wall beside her futon. The birdcage hung overhead. He had removed his shirt for convenience. The wound was disguised beneath the dried blood. Nekomi was wordless as she kneeled beside him, and took it upon herself to clean around the wound with a piece of cloth. It stung, and Mugen cursed and wriggled as she treated the gash in his side. This was no different to how they acted as children; with the boy unable to sit still whenever Nekomi had a piece of old cloth and her father's sake in one hand. 'To clean it' she had told him, but the drink hurt like a bitch when she poured little cups over whatever injury he had. She was being more vigilant than he remembered, tracing the wound indolently and watching his face for his expressions. It made him uncomfortable and he looked away.

"You should have gone to see Fuu, Mugen," she murmured once the silence became unpleasant. Mugen growled and turned away.

"Ain't any of your concern." He paused, and rolled his tongue over his lower lip. "'Sides, she has that boyfriend or, whatever to take care of 'er. I don't see why she still hangs 'round me."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Huh? What's that?" She said it in a whisper and Mugen could barely make out a few syllables. Nekomi shook her head.

"Nothing… its nothing." She sighed and unravelled the roll of white cloth. "Your wound is clean. I'll put this on you to stop the rest of your bleeding."

All this being said, she did not move to fulfil her duty. Instead, she glared at the wound, much of her eyes covered by her hair. Mugen felt his Adam's apple bob in his throat when he tried to swallow.

"What're you doing?"

"Bandaging the wound…"

"Well you aren't doing much'of that are you."

Lowering her head further, Nekomi gave a sigh. "Lean forward, Mugen."‑

"Huh?"

"I have to reach behind you."

Now he understood the reasons he was so uncomfortable. He nodded and did as he was told, propping himself away from the wall and closer to her. He held his breath as he leaned forward, pulling the bandage around his frame with her small nails grazing his skin. Her head was alongside his and felt heat radiating from her bony frame as if they were touching. When she spoke, telling him she was almost done, her words were hot and rushed by his ear. When the knot was tied, she pulled away instantly.

"You should really speak to Fuu. She was worried about you."

"I told you to leave it," he said, his voice devoid of any real malice or resolve. He felt along the bandages with the broad strokes of his hand.

"D'you think I was too harsh?" he grumbled, unable to look Nekomi in the eye when he said it. It was unlike him to ponder on such thoughts, but the words came out before he could have them revised so that he did not sound too concerned. He was not too bothered, but he could faintly recall Fuu's face during his rage – how frightened she was of him. He shook the notion from his mind and looked back at Nekomi. She was smiling up at him, with one of those strange, wide grins that made him wonder what she was thinking about.

"Do you want me to escort you to the inn to see her?"

"I told you I don't wanna see her! Are you stupid of something?"

Nekomi groaned at his outburst.

"You do. She is more worried than you could possibly imagine…"

He observed the way she tilted her head ever so slightly, peering up at him from a different angle as if it would help her see him clearly. One hand was balled up by her chest and at times, her index finger would reach out to touch her collarbone, fishing for something that was not there. He was reminded of the necklace – the necklace that brought them together. A lump formed in his throat.

"How'd you know," he said in a weak comeback, rolling his eyes in disdain.

"I used to get worried for you."

The answer was not one he was expecting and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

"You would leave and then come back all beaten up that it became habit to worry. I can understand how Fuu is feeling." Again, she touched the base of her neck, thumbing the hollow where her collarbones met. "So it is okay for you to worry about her yourself. I suppose it is karma for all the times we have had to stay awake, wondering when you would come back, if you came back."

"There's no point in worryin' bout me." He had not considered it their burden – never thinking that the reason they would yell or scold him being for his benefit, or out of worry. He never had parents, or people who cared for his wellbeing. Nekomi was the first person who ever donated some of her kindness and worry, and Fuu rekindled those feelings when they travelled together. Three years later, he had forgotten what it was like to be watched over.

"Mugen…" Nekomi spoke in a soft undertone, and leant forward as if her words were for his ears only. She placed a cold hand on his own, unafraid of what he might do – how he would pull away from her in disgust. He did nothing, however, and waited for her next move.

"Wah?"

"You should go back to her now. You don't have to talk, but, just show her that you are okay."

There was an urgency in her voice that stressed how important this was for her. Mugen was motionless, with only the flicker of his eyes distinguishing him from a statue. He saw how her lips quivered, how she bit them to stop them shaking. He could not grasp the importance of Fuu's wellbeing to her – why it mattered so much. He should be the one in regret, he had learnt that much, and yet Nekomi acted as if everything was her fault.

"You are a good person," she said suddenly, her voice unwavering with her features stilling as she regained her composure. "I always told you that there was a choice. You don't have to be alone anymore."

There was no reason for her to be saying such useless things, and she looked at the floor shamefully, recognizing the stupidity of her own sentence. "Sorry – I am crossing the line."

Retracting her hand, she rose but was followed by Mugen who got to his feet quickly despite his injury.

"Whatever," he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm leaving. Thanks for the do-up, Nekomi."

If she was going to be emotional, he had no choice but to leave. They had been apart too long for her to tell him what he was or could be. Already he felt embittered by the remark and pouted as he strutted out of the room, leaving the girl without another word. Good. Choice. She did not understand anything, did she?

He felt a hot rage swell in his gut. He was older and more experienced. He did not need her spurting nonsense about being some sort of hero, or having the ability to change what is written in his blood. He remembered the body – that boy who had been singing at the theatre; how peaceful he looked with a slit in his back and blood pooling around him. Was that good? Was that innocent? Still, her words were chipping at his resolve, her touch leaving a lingering warmth on his hand. He felt along where her fingers had rested and held another breath so that his chest was taught and shaking as he walked. Stupid woman.

Fuu rolled onto her side, groaning as she nuzzled the cold floor. Light was everywhere and the shutters were open. Outside, she could hear laughter and the sound of water splattering onto the rocks of the spring. It felt like her eyes had only been shut for an instant and already it was late morning. Drunkenly, she tugged at the covers, unable to drag herself up what felt like a hillside to her futon. Her sleep had been restless and her arms and neck ached from the drastic position she had taken. She allowed her gaze to wander under the protection of her heavy lids; her narrow pupils moving as slow as molasses whilst they scanned the clean room for any signs of life. Sighing, she closed her eyes once her examination was complete and curled into herself to keep the warmth. As expected, Mugen had not returned. Her toes crackled when they rubbed against the notches in the floor and Fuu wondered if he was hurt. It was too early for her to think yet and she tried to hurl herself onto the Futon, which was cold from her absence. When she moved, she noticed the other's presence. Her eyes were locked on the screen dividing the room, and strained to make out the vague shadow that climbed its length. Wind whistled by and the droning of old men's prattle made its way to her ears, but still she listened intently. Suddenly, the roll which she had thought of as a bundle of cloth, moved; shifting and fidgeting. It was too early in the morning to make sense of the situation, and Fuu simply stared in its direction. As if it could sense eyes upon it, she could see the top of it the creature loll towards her, the outline of its profile unmasked for a second. A grunt, made its way from the bundle of covers.

"Fuu?"The hoarse voice rang clear over the commotion outside and the girl rubbed her eyes vigorously to rid herself of the sleep that glazed her vision. She called out his name, just to be sure.

"Mugen?"

"What the fuck are you doing up so early," he groaned, obviously unaware of the time. When he moved, Fuu concentrated on his face. His sharp jaw was a line along the screen. Naturally, his loud mouth interrupted her examination and she drew back in mild disgust. Honestly, she was brain damaged enough to worry about this, fool? The thought made her shudder.

"It's not early, idiot. You just came in late!" she yelled back, throwing herself onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She could hear him moving on the other side and peeked over her blanket to see that he was on his back also. There was a pause and Fuu assumed that he had fallen as sleep. But just as she felt that knot of disappointment, he spoke out:

"Were you… worried?" Had it been any other man, Fuu would have mistaken the question for concern. Mugen was different: the islander was too rough with his words and too threatening. Again, the image of him angry against the soothing backdrop of the harbour flashed in her mind. Unintentionally, she became more defensive than the situation asked for.

"Why would I worry about you? I was out and about yesterday night, anyway." She did not approve of lying. With Mugen, however, it became a habit. She did not want him to know she stayed up until the wee hours of the morning praying for his return; unsure if she should go out and find him or wait patiently to see if he arrived. How could she have fun when part of her wondered if he was lying in a ditch with some fatal wound? If that was the case, she would have never forgiven herself for something that was not in her reach to control.

Mugen gave a grunt. "Is that so?" In her state of post-morning sleep, Fuu fancied she heard a tinge of disappointment in his voice. Whether it was there or not, it was gone by the time he rolled onto his side – his back towards her. "Whatever. Nekomi told me you were worried."

"Ne-ko-mi?" Fuu voiced. Nekomi – sweet, fragile, Nekomi. She had grown attached to the older woman – a sister she never had – but when Mugen said her name, her thoughts were tainted with contempt. Already her body was showing the signs: a barrel chest filled with air, limbs tight with muscles pulled tight along her arms and neck. Coming down from her momentary flare-up, she felt sorry for her defensiveness. Mugen was not in a mood to fight and she brought down his answer upon herself. Nibbling on her lip, she closed her eyes and inhaled another shaky breath. So he had seen Nekomi last night. She wanted to ask him more about his adventure, to get a better understanding of the situation. Still her questions would have to be saved for later. Through the cackling inn-tenants and the boisterous city sounds, she could hear Mugen's steady breathing, tinged with the rattle of a snore.