Chapter 43 To Love is to Lose
[A/N]: Chikokuda! Another ridiculously long chapter. I blame Giri, to be honest. Hope everyone is still surviving mentally and physically during this crazy year.
Important Note- There is a return of a character that has not shown up since Chapter 32 The Lavish Lady: Kiichi, the oniwaban agent on a black horse. If you can't remember him, I do recommend reskimming that. It was a very brief scene. He will be important for the rest of the Tsuru and Giri arc.
Note For All You Reviewers Out There- Literal years ago, a reviewer named Lexy made a mention of having a drunk Fuu, as we've already seen drunk Mugen in Chapter 34 The Ideal "If"… Years ago, I was also given a recommendation of a song, called Quiet by Lights, from a reviewer named Helgist. "Sitting by a broken tree." is what initially inspired this chapter, and research came later. Based on these two details, a basic skeleton of this chapter was formed back then. Years later, here we are, finally. So, I just want to say, thank you to Lexy, Helgist, and ALL the reviewers who takes the time to stop by, send me song reccs, ideas, things to research, wonderful comments or share their thoughts. I will always read what you guys have to say. You mean so damn much to me. I'd hug you all but you know... Social Distancing and all that.
Anyway. Enough of the sappy bullshiz.
Once again, I can't respond to all guest reviewers in chapters, as there's just way too many and my word count is already surpassing 23,000 words (WTF) for this chapter. But here's two concerning issues.
I owe a reviewer named Nikki a new iPad. Rather, Mugen and Fuu do for beating around the bush. But all three of us are pretty damn broke. Time to go bug Jin. He's loaded.
To Jen, yeah, I gave the warning about the rating a bit early. Sorry. XD I wanted to give everyone a heads up to favorite and follow the story before then, as it won't come up on the website unless one searches for M rated fics, once I turn the story into M around Chapter 50. Now as for why it will be bumped up to M...I cannot say. Only time will tell.
This might be...the sappiest chapter yet. The time has come for some truth to come out.
Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, Fuu, Mugen, Jin, Momo etc. How many years now has it been, since I made that wish... A decade? How the time flies.
Chapter 43 To Love is to Lose
A man must always stay true to one thing in his life, above all else. One code. One rule. One lord. If he chose to believe in too much, laid his loyalty in too many places, he would spread himself thin, and inevitably lose sight of what mattered most to him. Sometimes, morals needed to be sacrificed, cruel decisions to be made. If his focus dwindled, if he felt weighed down by rights and wrongs, or even his own personal feelings, it would only cloud his path.
This way of thinking, as grim as it was, had awarded Giri ten fulfilling years. Years without regret. Years without grief.
If Giri did not have a purpose—if he did not have a lord worth serving—he would have lost sight of himself long ago.
"Gigi! Gigi, look!"
The little girl of six summers bounced happily on her toes around the courtyard, the carp shaped kite trailing its tail of multicolored streamers in the cloudless skies above her. With that little lisp, she still had trouble pronouncing his name. From the deck of the porch, the samurai watched, leaned against a wooden beam with his arms folded. Today, he didn't need to force a smile, as he so often did. Perhaps the child had grown on him some, after all.
Time had passed quickly for him, quicker than he'd liked. Edo Castle did not suit Giri. Around the court nobles, and the servants, and especially guarding Tsuru-himegimi, he felt very much out of place.
"I can hardly believe how fast they grow." a voice said from behind him.
He'd heard the footsteps on the porch long before the man spoke, but had no fear of being attacked in his laxed state.
Kiichi, one of the Shogun's secret oniwaban agents, stood behind him. He was a young man yet, just as Giri was, probably no more than twenty six. More often than not, he wore a netted mask, revealing only dark, piercing eyes. Being mask-less today, showed his unremarkable, impassive face. Such a face served him just as well to blend into any crowd and fill any role as a spy.
"It's been a while, Kiichi." Giri said, though his gaze still remained on the little girl dragging along her paper kite.
Though he'd never said so, Giri thought that this oniwaban agent, even as mysterious as he was, was the closest thing he possessed to a friend here.
No one else would have checked in on her when he could not. No one else would've delivered all those letters on his behalf.
Various tasks around the capitol allowed the ninja to depart frequently from the castle grounds. Giri however, could not even remember the last time he was given leave. Guarding the young princess tied him up with constant vigilance. In that way, he envied the man.
He hadn't even returned to his old neighborhood in many years. Not since she'd married...
In the yard, little Tsuru turned around, still holding onto the string. When she saw the man in black behind Giri, her happy expression altered into confusion, as she stumbled to her bodyguard's side.
"Hello there, Hime-sama."
Kiichi smiled and knelt to meet the child eye to eye. But she scurried behind Giri's back, peeking from around his pleated hakama leg.
"...Still as shy as ever, I see." the ninja chuckled and rose.
While Giri was Tsuru's personal guard, he was not alone in protecting her. Kiichi, was just as valuable in the shadows. Young Tsuru did not know him, nor the secret effort he'd always put into keeping her safe.
"A letter came for you today, Giri."
"From whom?"
"It concerns...Lady Kameko."
The samurai's brow rose. He looked down, patting Tsuru's shoulder. "Hime-sama, will you go inside for a moment?"
They watched on fondly, as she scurried inside, the paper carp she awkwardly toted about getting stuck on the doorframe and nearly tearing. Kiichi righted it, rolling up the string, until he could hand her the kite that nearly rivaled her in size. Giri slid the sliding door closed behind her back.
As he turned around, he was surprised to find that the smile upon Kiichi's face had faded. Few emotions ever crossed the ninja's solemn face. Today though, something felt different. From the front of his netted shozoku attire, the oniwaban withdrew a small scroll, tightly rolled up and held together by a twine bow in its center. He held out his arm.
The letters stopped coming years ago, after she'd married a rich merchant at the behest of her doting parents. After he'd...pushed her away, and ignored her frequent messages.
Since they were children, Kameko had always been a sickly girl. Giri and her parents knew that he could not be there for her—not when his responsibilities resided elsewhere. His duty lied with the Tokugawa family. A man like him—bound to the sword, bound to his work, bound to a child that was not even his own—could provide for a woman, yes...but never give her the attention that someone with her illness so desperately needed.
Though Giri had read the contents of every single letter Kiichi delivered to him from Kameko, he stopped writing back. He did not expect nor want for her to wait around for him forever. So he found it strange that after all this time, all these years, she'd bother to send a letter to him at all. His heart strained at the possibilities. They'd lost contact so long ago, that any reason for it eluded him.
Hesitantly, Giri took hold of the scroll, undoing the ribbon and unfurled its contents. As his eyes followed the neat columns of kanji, his brow set.
No longer did his heart strain. It raged. The paper trembled in his fingers.
Dearest Sir or Madam,
It is with much regret, that I send this letter to all of Lady Kameko's acquaintances. After many years of fighting a hard battle, Lady Kameko succumbed to her illness on the morning of April 30th. Her funeral will be held on the third of May, where she will be interred in her family tomb at Sengakuji Temple. All of her friends and loved ones are welcome to attend the wake.
My deepest condolences, for your loss.
Before Giri's disbelief caused him to lose his grounding, he took a seat on the porch deck, dark brown eyes still fixated on the words.
Kiichi stayed standing, but placed a hand upon the samurai's shoulder. He was not used to the behavior from a man so emotionally withdrawn. It appeared even a ninja as cold as Kiichi had warmth buried in the recesses of his heart.
"...If it is of any comfort to you...she was surrounded by loved ones. Her husband and her parents stayed beside her to the very end."
But he hadn't been there. Instead, he'd been stuck here, trapped in the grounds of Edo castle, catering to a pampered little child, while Kameko suffered.
"Please do not hesitate to call upon me, friend. I will be around if you need me." Kiichi patted his shoulder twice.
Not one to linger longer than wanted, the castle ninja made his exit, silent and swift, as if he'd never been there at all. The only reminder of his visit was the letter still clutched in Giri's hands, bearing the all too cruel message. Outside Tsuru-himegimi's chambers, Giri was left in solitude.
The parchment crumpled in the grip of his palm, the squeezing of his fist so strong, he'd drained all sense of feeling from it.
Resentment simmered in his chest.
His assignment as the personal bodyguard to Tsuru-himegimi was what took him away from Kameko. None of this had been his choice. When Shogun Tsunayoshi requested his service six years ago, it was not as if he could refuse such a thing. Honor or not, declining it would have been a great offense to the most powerful man in the entire country.
If he could have, he'd have stayed by her side, hung up his blades and worked as a merchant—even a pig farmer, if that's what it took to tend to her. Sometimes, he'd wished he'd never been born in service to the Tokugawa clan at all. Had he not honed his skills with the blade, they'd never have assigned him to something so serious.
What good was a sword to protect, if he couldn't even use it to protect the woman he loved?
Life, alas, never worked the way one wanted. The winds of fate blew him and Kameko separate directions. So after the first year as Tsuru's new guardian, he'd broken away, distanced himself, even knowing that if he'd asked her to, she'd have held out for him. If she had...she'd have suffered the last five years in loneliness and regret.
Just as he had.
Instead, he'd asked Kiichi to check in on her frequently, on his behalf. Kameko had been pushed by her parents to marry a wonderful man, kind and gentle, who not only provided for her, but gave her all the love and attention she needed in her sickly condition. Giri knew this. He knew he should've been happy for that, at least. But he'd lost that time with her. Lost all those precious moments. He only hoped with all his heart, that in those last years with her loving husband, she'd forgotten him. Even if...he couldn't forget.
The sliding click of wood alerted the samurai that Tsuru had reopened the door to her bedroom. In time, he'd managed to straighten his slouched posture.
"Hime-sama… Please return to your room."
He did not face her, even when he regrettably heard her tiny feet press on the timber slats of the deck.
"Gigi, what's wrong?"
"It is nothing."
He tried to say it calmly. But the cracks in his voice betrayed him.
"Don't come this way, Hime-sama."
Despite the shift from a request to a command, she continued her approach.
"I said don't come this way!" he shouted.
For a moment, Tsuru stopped in her tracks.
Of course he knew it was not the child's fault. She did not ask to be bodyguarded. She did not ask to take him away from the woman he loved. He knew himself to be a fool, resenting his work, the Tokugawa Clan, and more than anything, resenting the innocent child for something so out of her control.
For a time, a silence settled between them.
Not even now was he able to turn around and face her. The moment the yell left him, he regretted it. But so choked up was his throat, so dry was his mouth, that he could not find it in himself to turn around and apologize. He would not blame the little girl if she broke down into tears and fled back to the safety of her room. He would not blame her, if in this moment, she lost faith in him as her protector.
Already, Giri lost faith in himself anyway.
Instead of hearing the little patter of her feet returning to her chambers, Giri heard them approach, even faster than before. A breath ripped from his constrained throat when he felt her tiny body fly into his back where he was seated on the porch deck, her small arms wrapping around his shoulders in a tight embrace.
"Hime…"
Not only did he hear Tsuru's sniffles; he felt the tremors against his back, and the tears soaking the collar of his kimono.
"I don't want Gigi to cry alone. Please, let me stay with you, Gigi…"
Tears fell upon the paper.
There, on that porch, Giri gave in to a moment of weakness, one that had long awaited, ever since he'd left Kameko behind. He did not bother to wipe his eyes or to cover them in the crook of his hand. He let the silent tears turn to stifled sobs. He let his once stilled shoulders shake violently.
All the while, the little girl clutched onto his back, crying with him, so that he would not be left to grieve alone.
While something died in him that day, perhaps...something had been born in him as well. That was the day he—a man with nothing left—made his compassionate lord his one and only purpose in life. And he regretted not a day since.
Giri stared into the brook, the water bubbling by. The orange sunset reflected on its surface.
"Oi."
Today was April 30th: the tenth anniversary of Kameko's passing. It was strange that, all these years, he'd not thought of it until now.
"Oi!"
Maybe it had been that vagrant who reignited the memory: seeing a young swordsman trying so desperately to push away a woman...even when the decision haunted his every waking moment
"YO! Are you deaf?! Ya got a bite!"
The wood of the fishing pole creaked in his grasp. Giri raised his head from where he'd peered at the surface of the creek, realizing only now, that a creature below the depths, had bitten the bait and tugged relentlessly on the line. Mugen stomped up to him, pulling the makeshift pole from his loose hold, and tugged up the fish hanging off the end.
The fat carp wriggled and flailed, harshly slapping its body on the hard banks of the stream. It hopelessly stared up at Giri with one unblinking eye. He merely grabbed it by the tail fin, throwing it into the basket nearby, where it slowly suffocated. During his bout of zoning out, Mugen alone had managed to fill up their crude straw basket with seven other unlucky specimens.
"Fuck, dude. Wake up. The damn thing coulda' dragged ya into the water."
"Forgive me. I...I was lost in thought."
Mugen saw the dark, deep rings pillowing Giri's eyes. The samurai had been keeping watch the last few nights.
"Ya really should make time to sleep, old man." he remarked, though he knew the samurai was not that old at all, being only in his mid thirties.
The two men carried back their spoils to their campsite. Along the way, Giri stopped once and turned back, his tired eyes scanning the tree line on the other side of the riverbank.
There was a deep silence. A familiar presence.
When Mugen called for him to hurry up, Giri turned back to his side.
"...Do you have the sense that we are being watched?"
"Hah?"
"Perhaps it is my imagination but...the last two nights, Otachi had growled at something in the dark. When I investigated, there was nothing there."
"Think we're bein' followed?"
"That is what I fear. At any rate, keep your guard up, Mugen. The Shogunate has eyes and ears everywhere."
Lower and lower, the sun descended, brilliantly casting a fiery pink light across the horizon. The two young women and the white dog strolled under the shadows of the trees, examining the patches of light that still remained in the dense forest. Together, Fuu and Tsuru scoured the dry forest floor, scavenging for stray tinder and any edible mushrooms they could find. Every time Tsuru happened upon a curious bundle, Fuu meticulously inspected the capped heads, determining whether they were safe to eat or poisonous. She watched, fascinated as the older girl plucked more from the ground, delicately placing them onto Tsuru's handkerchief.
Tsuru bent down, investigating a peculiar yellow mushroom popping up from the dirt, its broad, flat cap shaped like that of Giri's kasa hat. Otachi trotted beside her, sniffing it. She'd only just began to pluck it, when a frenzied Fuu darted over, staying her hand.
"Ah, not that one! That's a tamago take! It'll get you really sick."
In the short weeks they'd traveled together, Tsuru felt she'd learned more from Fuu, than she'd learned in the sixteen years locked in Edo castle: how to start fires, how to sew, how to fish, how to determine different types of vegetation, from the edible to the medicinal. Fuu was a surprisingly resourceful girl. It was little wonder that she'd been able to survive on her own for so long, without a family. She wondered if a girl like Fuu ever even felt lonely. If she did, she doubted Fuu would ever show it, and carry on with a brave face, as she always did. Fuu always put more consideration into checking in on everyone else of the group, keeping the mood bright.
"Mugen's been acting weird…"
Tsuru glanced up suddenly. It was just like Fuu to notice something like that.
"You think so?" she tilted her head. "He seems perhaps...more...quiet than usual?"
"That's exactly it!" Fuu exclaimed, bending down to clasp another piece of lumber. "It's like the closer we grow, the more he closes himself off again."
"Have you thought of anything to open him up again?"
"...Open him up?"
Tsuru brought a finger to her chin. "What about telling him honestly how you feel?"
The carefully balanced log on the very top of her pile slipped from Fuu's arms, falling upon her exposed feet. The painful impact caused the girl to not only yelp, but to lose her grip on the rest. One by one, the collection of twigs and logs tumbled from her arms, all across the grass. More than a few unladylike profanities were muttered as she scrambled to regather the bundle of wood.
Otachi scampered over, picking up sticks in his mouth, as if to aid her in the endeavor. She thanked him with a tender scratching behind the ears.
"...I don't think...I'd be very good at something like that." her shoulders slumped.
"I too feel I am not brave enough to confess to Giri...but I do not want to wait around forever." Tsuru sighed. "Sometimes I wish there were some magical elixir I could drink, like a truth serum, where I could summon the bravery to say everything I want."
Fuu looked at Tsuru, squinting. "Have you ever...drank alcohol?"
"Alcohol? Only small amounts, at formal occasions in Edo Castle."
"Well, they say alcohol loosens the lips… I mean, I'm not really good at handling my liquor so…"
"Maybe...maybe we could go out drinking tomorrow! All four of us! We can use the alcohol to both confess our feelings!" Tsuru said excitedly, ten notches too loud.
Fuu brought a finger to her lips. "Shhh!"
"Forgive me." Tsuru clasped her mouth. "I do hope the chance arises where we can confront them privately."
Fuu tried to feign a smile for the excited noblewoman, even when her stomach sank at the very thought of a confession. The two women shuffled back to their little campsite deep in the woodlands, their arms overflowing with the collection of twigs and fungi they'd managed to procure.
"We're back!"
Giri welcomed their return with a tip of his head, while Mugen said nothing at all. Using his tanto, he set to work fashioning skewers from the twigs Fuu handed him. Tsuru meanwhile, helped Giri tend the fire as they conversed over what she'd learned today from Fuu. In silence, Fuu and Mugen charred the impaled fish over the flames, until their slippery skin grew a crisp gold-brown. Tsuru passed around their collection of mushrooms balanced in her sky blue handkerchief. While it wasn't the most enticing of meals, they were all content in eating something, since their departure from the last town.
"Yo Giri," Mugen sat criss-crossed, biting down into both his fish at once. "What do ya say me an' you hit up the Red Light District in Takasago tomorrow?"
Fuu's body bristled. She contained a boiling string of words, choosing instead to bite down harder on the carp kebab. After feeling a sharp jab in her throat, she was sure she'd accidentally swallowed down more than a few jagged pieces of fish bone.
Giri tossed a twig into the fire. "I am not interested."
"Shit, what a wet blanket. Even Four-Eyes was more fun."
"Women are a distraction I do not need."
"Well, suit yourself. I'll be sure to have a good time for us both." he flopped onto his side, ungraciously scratching at his stomach beneath his shirt.
It must have been the smog of the bonfire, blown her way by a capricious breeze, that had Fuu's eyes stinging. At least, that's what she'd have liked to believe.
"While I hate to be a bearer of bad news..." Giri said. "It is highly unlikely Takasago has a brothel of any kind."
Disgruntled, Mugen looked up from where he was propped, a clear scowl on his mug.
"Why's that?"
"Takasago is known as the town of 'happy marriage'."
"There's a thing as a happy marriage? Feh! Any guy who thinks so, must be fuckin' whipped."
Fuu thought herself to be such a fool. Months ago, in the Autumn, she'd actually believed Mugen the type to run off and marry that Yatsuha woman... She realized there was no woman in this world who could change him. Silently, she finished the last of her fish, flicking the stick and the remainder of the bones into the fire. She clasped her hands together, kneading them, as if in a trance.
Tsuru saw this. Unlike Fuu, she'd lost her appetite some time ago, choosing to pick the fish bones clean with her fingers, and tossed the meat Otachi's way. With a wag of his tail, the white hound happily gobbled up the remainder of the scraps. She too threw her own skewer into the flames, and then stared directly at Mugen.
After a moment, he noticed.
"What."
Tsuru's lips thinned."...You should not say such an awful thing."
Giri and Fuu looked up. It was a rare thing for Tsuru to speak her mind, and to the intimidating and lawless Mugen, most of all.
"Marriage can be a beautiful thing, bonding a man and a woman for a lifetime." she went on.
Fuu wanted to stop the noblewoman from speaking further. Giri on the other hand, did not know how to stop her.
Mugen let out a disgusted snarl. "That's the problem, ain't it. Why waste yourself on one chick, when you can have plenty? It's like eatin' the same gruel every night."
...He had to say these things. He had to. If he didn't, she'd never give up on him.
Tsuru shook her head vigorously, the locks of black hair cascading against her pale cheeks. "A man without family...is a man who is alone in this world. Do you not think so? I think the older he grows, the more he will regret such a lifestyle. It is...it is a sad existence."
"Oh yeah? I'll take the advice of the same chick who ran away from her engagement, abandoned her family and her fiancé, and put her bodyguard through all this shit for her." he spat, then motioned between Tsuru and Fuu. "Chicks like you two do nothin' but burden guys, do ya. And then ya preach about what's best for 'em."
Tsuru looked down at her hands, the same as Fuu. Fuu was ready to defend the noblewoman, though whipping a mushroom at his face seemed a more appealing option. But she wasn't the first to speak up.
"That's enough, Mugen."
The two dejected women looked up across the fire again. Giri had spoken, his authoritative voice steady and leveled.
"You know as well as I do, that we are here on our own volition. The only burden we bear...is the burden we've placed on ourselves."
He knew this was true. Of course, he knew.
"Yeah… Shows what fucking idiots we both are, don't it."
With that, Mugen turned his back on the party, and that too all bright fire that would've revealed his expression to them. None of the three made any other effort to speak another word to him, and he was glad for it.
Tsuru scooted closer to Fuu, if only to alleviate the discomfort on the older girl's expression, and the tense wringing of her hands. "I once read a little bit about Takasago. It is called the 'town of happy marriage' because of the Shinto shrine there. This shrine celebrates two separate tales of love."
Fuu looked up, surprised.
"The first is the tale of the the old man and old woman, Jo and Uba. No matter how far the married couple are separated, their hearts are one. Even in death, their souls find one another...for life is all too brief and their love transcends it."
"Ah, I've heard of them! It's a Noh play. No wonder the story is called Takasago. I had no idea it was named after that village."
"Indeed! Takasago Shrine is said to house the wedded Aioi Pine Trees holding their souls. But this same shrine is also dedicated to two another Kami: Susanoo-no-Mikoto and Kushinada-hime."
Across the fire, Mugen's eyes steadily opened, though none of the three could see with his back facing them.
"Eeeeh? Susanoo?" Fuu's eyes squinted. "But...isn't he the Kami of Storms? My mother used to tell me 'Whenever it rains, it's nasty Susanoo, making the other Kami cry'."
"Nah broad." interrupted Mugen, causing the two women to jump. He'd rolled back over their way again. "He's the Kami a' the ocean. The pirate crew I used ta' sail with had a saying, when the ocean acted up: 'There goes Susanoo, bangin' a bitch too hard again and rockin' the waves."
Giri squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. Fuu's face scrunched up in disgust.
Tsuru however, giggled into her fingertips. "Well, I suppose you both are correct. He is the Kami of both storms and the ocean. Different regions view him differently. Almost all views of him are negative, believing him to cause tsunamis and typhoons. He is considered the younger sibling and enemy of Amaterasu: Shintoism's patron Kami of the Sun. But...Susanoo is actually a Kami of love and marriage as well."
"Eh?! That...doesn't make any sense… How could such a nasty God be a God of love? I thought he was disheveled, and wild, and cruel."
Tsuru-himegimi smiled. "Would you like to hear the story I read as a child?"
Fuu smiled and nodded eagerly, while Mugen flopped back onto his side, propping the side of his face in his palm. Giri merely folded his arms into the confines of his green kimono sleeves.
"As you said, Susanoo-no-mikoto was a cruel Kami, born from Father Izanagi…and a sibling to Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi. Unlike them, he was believed to be corrupted by the land of the dead, for he was violent and temperamental. He hated his older sister Amaterasu, who he considered his rival. There are many stories of their disputes and duels… Well, after one insult too many, he was banished from the Heavens. This is where most tales end…"
As the wood cracked in the flames, embers flew towards the night sky, dancing like mating fireflies on a midsummer night. Against the heat of their bonfire, the balmy Spring air felt soothing enough to feel like summer.
"But there is more to his story, which Takasago venerates. After he was banished, Susanoo wandered the lands alone, hateful and spiteful, especially furious that Amaterasu would always be better than him. She would rule and he would not. But deep down, I think he was very sad…and lonely. No one in this world loved him…not even his own kin."
Mugen stared into the darkening charcoals. Fuu saw how the glowing flames reflected in his steel gray eyes.
"One day, in his lonely travels, he came across an old couple, weeping and holding a young girl between them. Curious, he asked why they cried. The old couple told him...that seven of their daughters had been devoured by a fearsome serpent: Yamato-no-Orochi . Now, the time had come for the serpent to devour their very last daughter: Kushinada-hime. Never one to turn down a fight, the brave and violent Susanoo said he would face the serpent...but he would want something in return."
"Monster slayin'?" Mugen smirked. "Now this is a story."
Fuu squinted, "I bet he didn't put a single thought into protecting their daughter…"
"Actually, quite the contrary. Susanoo felt compassion. It was the first time he ever cared for the plight of another. He asked the couple to hand over their daughter, so he could keep her safe. Using some of the heavenly power he still possessed, he transformed Kushinada-hime into a comb temporarily and hid her in his hair. This way, she would be protected and not eaten by the serpent before he found it and slew it. Then, he set off to slay the beast. Upon its discovery, Susanoo shared the last of his sake with the creature."
"Fuck... I could use some sake right about now. If Takasago ain't got a brothel, they better have a damn bar."
Over the campfire, Tsuru glanced over to Fuu, a secretive smile playing at her lips. Immediately, Fuu came to an understanding as to why: Tsuru still hoped they could go drinking together...so the alcohol would help them to confess.
The princess continued, "As the great serpent grew intoxicated, Susanoo cleverly slew it, chopping it into pieces. From its tail, it is said Susanoo acquired the legendary blade: Ame no Murakumo. It is a sword that symbolizes virtue and heroism."
"Wait...isn't that sword one of the three treasures of the royal family?"
"The very same." intervened Giri. "He did not keep it. It is said that some time after defeating the serpent, Susanoo paid a visit to his long time rival, Amaterasu, and gave his sibling the blade as a gift. Amaterasu then passed down the sword to the first Emperor of Japan."
"Wow...it seems like he changed a lot, reconciling with the sibling he hated so much…" Fuu tilted her head. "Wait so...this still doesn't explain how he became a Kami of marriage and love."
"Well, Susanoo was not yet repaid by the old couple for saving their daughter. Can you guess what he asked for?"
"A meal? He must've been starving after all that fighting..." she inquired.
"No."
"More sake?" Mugen ventured. "I'd be pissed wastin' it all on a damn snake."
"No." Tsuru laughed. "He merely asked for Kushinada-hime's hand in marriage. And of course, her parents said yes. She was overjoyed to marry her savior. The two are said to have traveled across Japan for some time together, until they settled in Izumo Province. There, he built her a beautiful palace."
He yawned. "Shoulda' known the story would get all fuckin' sappy. Man, I lost a lotta respect for the guy."
"...Well, that is the story of how the Kami of the Ocean and Storms, became the Kami of Love and Marriage. It is one of my favorite stories and the oldest tale of redemption that I can think of. Kushinada-hime was the first person to see him as more than a wild, troublemaking God, but as a hero. She was the first person in his life to love him. And that changed him. It changed him so much, that he even had the desire to reconcile with the sibling he hated so much."
Fuu's eyes found Mugen's in the light. From where he was propped up on his sleeping mat, he stared up at her, and she wondered, if he had been staring for some time. Quickly, he averted his gaze back to the flickering flames of the fire, and she back down to her now neatly folded hands.
"Maybe..." Fuu smiled to herself. "...I've heard this story before, somewhere."
Their campfire had long since extinguished, though the soothing, sweet aroma of the burnt cherry wood still hung over their campsite. Fuu awoke from a brief, dreamless sleep, finding that the sky overhead was still as dark as it'd been when she'd passed out. Glancing nearby, she thought how adorable Tsuru looked, hugging Otachi in her sleep on the straw mat. Even Giri, as on guard as he usually was, snored quietly in the other mat. When Fuu's eyes traveled across their makeshift encampment, she realized the last sleeping mat, farthest from the rest, had the threadbare blankets pulled aside, and its lone inhabitant missing.
Eyes adjusting to the blue moonlight, she crept quietly from the straw bed, and tiptoed around the sleeping forms of their traveling companions.
At the brook nearby, his lanky silhouette showed under the soft, azure glimmer. Upon the banks, Mugen reeled back his arm and threw something into the water. She could hear the faint splashes of it hitting the slow moving surface, in succession. As she drew closer, she realized he'd been skipping rocks. She watched in amazement, as they bounced and careened along the gently flowing creek, making four ripples, before plummeting deep into the water.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, slipping beside him.
Mugen answered only with a grunt. He crouched down, picking up another flat stone and whipping it. This one bounced five times, then sunk. She made an astonished "uwaah", and then crouched down herself, scouring along the rocky bank. After some mild success of feeling around for any similar flat stones, she picked up a small handful. Fuu pitched back her own hand, tossing one into the water.
It didn't even skip once, sinking with a pathetic plop.
Mugen snorted under his breath. She huffed, and tried again. In silence, the two carried on this way, whipping the rocks in the darkness, one after the other, disturbing the reflection of the moon.
After some trial and error, and observing Mugen's movements, she flicked her wrist in just the right way.
"Ah! Eight! That's a record. Beat that."
Mugen didn't answer her, nor make a move to chuck another rock into the creek.
"...You know, you haven't been talking a lot these last few days. It's even more frustrating than it was trying to conversate with Jin." she said. "...What's wrong, Mugen?"
"Why's something always gotta be wrong?"
"Well, you've been acting differently...so…"
"I have? Or you have?"
"I…I'm acting the same as I always have! Nothing's changed, really." Fuu huffed, her cheeks puffing out. "I'm just the same girl you met three year ago. So…if something's the matter, you can tell me."
To his surprise, she stepped forward, as if she planned to reach out to him. Just as quickly, he stepped back. Seeing her with that disheartened expression, as they stood alone on a riverbank together, Mugen wondered if Jin once saw an identical view, two years ago.
Their last fire together has extinguished. Only ashes and expired promises now... Tomorrow, she will find her Sunflower Samurai on Ikitsuki Island. Tomorrow, he and Jin will repay their debt, and finally, they will face one another, blades in hand, and victory in their minds. It's something that feels unreal, to have come this far, after all this time, only for it to finally reach it's end.
He has not slept yet. He blames the anticipation of the fight, the itchiness of his fingers preparing for the drawing of his blade that shall come by the morrow.
But if that were the case...it fails to explain why his burning desire to kill Jin is steadily fizzling out.
Mugen hears Fuu creep up from her straw bed, tiptoeing between the space where him and his rival lay. When she makes it to the edge of the riverbank, she crouches down, and looks as if she stares into the mirror of the water.
Moments pass. And more. The more that do, the more he thinks he will get up, approach her, say something to her. Maybe say nothing at all. Maybe grab her wrist. Maybe make her look at him.
This might be their last night together. Forever. Tomorrow, he might die. Tomorrow, he might kill Jin...and she will never be able to forgive him for that. In a momentary lapse of his thoughts, he thinks, this is worse than dying.
Another sound of straw popping from across the ashy pit, alerts him to the fact that Jin has awoken too. Quickly, he shuts his eyes, feigns sleep. As the gentle footfalls of the samurai recede from their dead campfire, he finds that his eyes reopen, just so slightly.
Of course Jin doesn't hesitate to go to her. He never has. Mugen watches, frozen, as Jin takes the initiative, steals the moment, all because he could not bring himself to approach her first. Fuu offers a tender smile and stands when she sees the samurai beside her. At the distance, he cannot hear what they whisper to one another in the dark, in the softest of voices. And he's glad for that. He tells himself he is, that he would rather not know the sappy, romantic things they whisper. And yet…
His curiosity grows.
All he can hear for certain...is the tender syllable of her name leaving Jin's mouth. It's something he's rarely ever heard Jin say. It's something he himself, despite the year they've traveled together, has never once uttered. Maybe tonight would have been the night… Maybe…had Jin not gotten to her first.
But it's far too late to think of that now.
Fuu's head perks up at the sound of her name, as she faces him. He asks her something. She looks away, raises her head to the sky.
Jin says something else.
Then...he swears that he hears Fuu say his own name once, strange and out of place that it is. Her voice cracks, and she approaches Jin.
She hugs him. Presses her face into his chest. Wraps her arms around his back. Clings to him.
Yet still, all he can do is watch. Jin places a hand on her shoulder, resting it there for a time too long for him to want to see. And they just...stay like that, embracing, unmoving.
Why is she crying?
He can only watch, and force himself not to wonder what it is they've shared in a moment he's not a part of.
It is strange. Their duel, long promised, long awaited, shall come tomorrow. But deep in his chest, he feels that right now, he's already lost.
To this day, she didn't know he'd been awake then. And to this day, he still wondered what words had been exchanged between them. And why...why...even after they embraced, why had they not continued traveling together? Why had Jin not stayed with her. He did not understand it. None of it made any sense.
"Mugen?"
The sound of his name snapped him back to the reality of the present—of Fuu here, now, staring up at him. Standing on the riverbank, so similar to then, he wanted to know. He wanted to ask. But he held his tongue. With the way she looked, he thought Fuu might try to embrace him, just as she'd once done to Jin, way back when. He thought that if she did, he would not be ready for such a thing.
Rather than that, she only reached for his arm, taking hold of it gently in one of her hands. Her thumb brushed against one of the teal bands on his wrist, the sensation soft and gentle, and growing far, far too familiar lately.
Mugen ripped his arm away from her grasp.
"What the fuck are you doin'?"
Startled, Fuu brought her hand back to her own chest, cradling it in her open palm.
"Your… Your tattoos." she whispered, voice faltering. "You still haven't told me the story..."
Before, he'd never even wanted to bring up the memory, and never bothered to share such a thing with anyone. He moved on from it, like every other bad experience he'd faced. It'd been an adversity, and a hard fought one. Not even Koza and Mukuro had known the tale, though he was sure they'd had their own, the way they too concealed their wrists and ankles, as he once had. He'd gotten the ink stained into his flesh long before even meeting them. The people who did know the contents of the tale firsthand, were all dead and gone anyway; he'd made sure to kill most of them, himself.
"You're better off not knowin' how I got 'em."
"...Why?"
"If you knew half the shit I've done, you wouldn't ever think a' me the same. Hell, if I told you some a' the stories of the way I lived, you wouldn't even be able to sleep at night."
"That's not true. I want to know…"
He stepped closer, his dark shadow veiling her from the gloomy blue rays of the moon. "You wanna know how many people I killed? Go ahead and take a wild guess."
"Mugen…"
"Or would you rather know what me an' my crewmates used to do ta' the people we didn't kill?"
Her lips quivered.
He laughed dryly. "...'Course you don't."
One stone remained in his palm. Mugen turned to the banks. Rather than drop it, or flick it against the surface of the water, he whipped it so hard, it didn't even skip once. At the impact, a surge of water gushed up into the air, before the stone sank deep into the dark depths.
"You're better off not knowin' shit about any of it."
But he knew that wasn't true. If Fuu heard the story of his tattoos, she'd probably empathize with him. Knowing her, maybe she'd even cry for him, like the foolish girl she was. Before he could change his mind, before she'd break him down as she always did, he turned away from her, walking back to their campsite, leaving the girl there, frozen.
It was better she didn't know who he'd been before he met her. Because…then she'd really know who he'd become, because of her.
On the way back to their campsite, he passed the samurai sitting up in his bedroll, likely having awoken to take over the night watch.
"...You are choosing to tread a hard path." Giri said.
Wordless, Mugen slumped into his sleeping mat.
"I know you think that what you are doing is the best decision. Maybe it is… Maybe it isn't. But whatever you choose...your heart or your duty...do not give a half hearted attempt at either. Your indecisiveness will only hurt her that much more."
Again, he pretended to ignore the samurai, throwing his haori over his shoulders.
Morning arrived slowly and midday arrived slower, with so few words spoken in the group. Today, Fuu was the most out of sorts. Every step of the way, she stared at her feet.
Only yesterday, Tsuru had wandered if a girl as strong as Fuu ever felt a hint of loneliness. The way she looked now, reminded her of the time the seventeen year old cried after they'd seen Love Suicides at Sonezaki and Mugen must have said some brash words.
Of course she did... Of course even a cheery girl like Fuu needed a good cheering up from someone else too.
So it was Tsuru who talked the most in order to invite conversation, and brighten the mood, as Fuu had so often done for them these last weeks. Along the road the travelers frequently passed short, stone wayside markers. Etched into their smoothed down surfaces were the tiny caricatures of an old man and woman. Tsuru excitedly pointed out the carvings, explaining that they were the daigoji statues of the Kami Jo and Uba, whom she'd mentioned the previous night. It was not hard for her to tell that Fuu tried to feign smiles for her.
By dusk, they finally made it to the little town of Takasago. Mugen wasted no time in drifting from the group to the only tavern he could find. It was Tsuru, not Fuu, summoning more of her newfound bravery, to tug along Giri and Fuu to follow him in.
"Hime-sama… I do not think it is wise that you drink…"
"Drinking alcohol is one of the few things I have yet to experience on this journey. My father and mother would never let me. If you were chaperoning me, I am certain such a thing would be fine!"
"...If you insist. But only a few drinks."
Inside, Mugen had already found a seat in the corner. Much to his annoyance, Fuu, Giri and Tsuru clambered into the open seats across from him, shattering any hope he had of a quiet moment to himself.
An attractive server somewhere in her mid twenties approached them. Just Fuu's luck that she had to be well endowed in the chest area...
Mugen smirked up at her, "You workin' all night, sweetheart? Lady like you should make time for a break."
Fuu rolled her eyes.
The bartender laughed into the back of her hand, and then leaned down to him. Her arms pressing onto the table squeezed her breasts together. "...If you're trying to hit on me...I'll have you know, I only bother with men who can hold their sake."
"Well babe, guess you're in luck."
"Yeah, right." came a snide mumble.
Mugen side-eyed the girl seated across from him.
"What was that, brat?
Discomfort building, Tsuru and Giri merely looked between each other.
Fuu's eyes met with Mugen. She smiled, far too deviously. "Don't you remember what happened in Kyoto?"
Immediately, his face shifted into a scowl that Giri and Tsuru determined to be murderous. If looks could kill, this was the face. They glanced between each other again. Though, they said nothing.
To sate their traveling companions' curiosities, Fuu raised her hands to her shoulders, shaking her head in mockery. "One time, Mugen got so drunk, that he was all over me, groping and kissing me like a drooling dog!"
Under the table, Otachi whined, scratching at Fuu's kimono.
"No offense, Otachi-san." she patted the dog's head.
"Listen, you stupid little bitch, I can handle my liquor just fine."
If it were not Fuu sitting across from him, Giri and Tsuru thought Mugen to be angry enough to flip the entire table on them. The thickening tension weighed down so heavily on their shoulders, that briefly Tsuru regretted her decision in bringing them into this place at all. Only Fuu, despite the awful name he'd called her, didn't seem the least bit daunted.
"Suurree. I bet even I could drink you under the table!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Mugen leaned back in his seat, scoffing. "You're all fuckin' talk."
"Then face me in a drinking contest! And then we'll see who's all talk!"
Mugen stared at her wide-eyed. But Fuu was certain.
"Yo bartender. Bring us a round of shots of the hardest liquor you got, would ya?"
The lady nodded with a seductive smile.
Glancing between them from under the wide brim of his kasa hat, Giri noted the invisible daggers flying between their deadly leers. "...Just who do you expect will be paying for this…" he muttered.
Tsuru giggled, "Let them have their fun! We may as well have a few drinks ourselves!"
The first round of shots appeared on the surface of their table far too soon.
As she stared at the unassuming sake choko, Fuu thought herself childish for desiring to keep up with him...as if she was trying to prove herself. She'd never been good at handling her liquor. Slowly, she lifted it, her mouth hovering just over the rim of the little porcelain cup. When Tsuru had suggested the idea of them drinking in order to become more open with their confessions, this hadn't at all been what she'd thought it would be like...
"What's wrong, girlie? Chicken out yet? Shoulda' known."
To shut him up, she downed it instantly. Flavored with the sweetness of plums, the taste and texture of the rice wine was remarkably smooth, even with the subtle sour aftertaste. She easily was able to empty her glass and even licked her lips to allow the flavor to linger. For the first time since making the challenge, she thought the contest couldn't be all that hard if the liquor tasted like fruit juice. Not to mention, she hadn't face planted into the table yet! She'd definitely gotten better at handling her alcohol.
Not one to be beat, Mugen downed his own cup.
Tsuru and Giri however, took small little sips, watching the battle raging between Mugen and Fuu with a mixture of amusement and unease.
When the second round was brought to them, most of the restaurant either saw or heard Fuu and Mugen's rancorous boasting amidst their drinking battle. Two customers in particular, eyed Fuu up.
"Fuu-san, those boys have been staring at you!" Tsuru nudged in the direction of the two young men. "They are not half bad looking at all…"
Fuu looked over to their table. The one waved to her.
Tsuru glanced at Mugen through the corner of her eye, holding back giggling at the way he so tightly gripped onto the sake choko. Hopefully, he wouldn't squeeze it so hard, it'd shatter in his fist.
"Hmm… That tall one is awfully handsome. He seems so strong." she went on. "Which would you choose?"
Brief contemplation flashed over Fuu's face. But she merely rolled her eyes, "I'd choose whichever of the two can buy me enough food to make me full."
Fuu knew that no one could manage that. Mugen knew as well. It still didn't make his grip on the sake cup loosen any.
By the third shot...Fuu's face had turned incredibly red.
"Feelin' it yet, girlie?" he smirked.
"Not even a l-little!" she stuttered.
"Liar. Your face is as red as my haori."
"Well, your face is as red as a BABOON'S ASS!"
The princess gasped. The ex-pirate sneered. The samurai merely tipped the brim of his hat down over his eyes, to hide his annoyance and embarrassment. By now, they'd drawn the curious eyes of most of the ramshackle tavern.
Unlike Fuu, Tsuru took careful consideration into each tiny sip of the liquor. Even so, her pale white cheeks had also begun to flush with signs of inebriation. Only Giri turned down the offer of a third shot, choosing to keep his spatial awareness at its sharpest while sober.
As Mugen and Fuu were amidst some new argument, Tsuru took hold of Giri's hand on the bench beside her, squeezing. "I...I think I have had enough to drink. Maybe we should leave them with some time alone." she whispered.
Giri nodded. They took careful measures in getting up from the seat, tiptoeing around the table, while Mugen shot out a belligerent remark, and Fuu countered it with an equally annoying whine. From under the table, Otachi rose and stretched his front paws, before trotting after them.
So focused on each other, the two didn't even notice.
As Mugen and Fuu lifted the fourth sake cups to their lips, their eyes stayed fixed on each other. Whether it was because of the battle, or because they didn't know how to look away, neither knew.
At this point, he took slow sips of the sweet yet sour brew, if only to slow her down too. Unfortunately, Fuu gulped as much of the alcohol as she could get down, once loving the sweet flavor, and now resenting the burn, and how each shot made the lanterns shine a little brighter, and the lightness in her head spread down to her toes.
Even at the different speeds of which they drank, their gazes didn't break.
Mugen wiped off some of the sake on his lips with the back of his hand.
Her eyes narrowed. "That's cheating. Drink every drop, cheater."
He raised his hand back to his mouth. With a slow slide of his tongue, he lapped off the residual liquid from the side his wrist, to the base of his thumb. All the while, his eyes stayed on hers.
Heat blossomed throughout Fuu's body. Any moment, something in her heart could easily come undone.
She was the first to break off the stare. Of course, Fuu mentally blamed the alcohol for making her feel so fuzzy, but deep down, knew it'd been those stormy grey eyes on her all along.
Five shots in, Mugen suddenly realized Giri and Tsuru had abandoned them some time ago. And Fuu was yammering on about something or another. By now, he could finally feel the beginning of a pleasant buzz hitting him.
"You know...you're just a big, giant jerk." Fuu leaned her chin on her palm. "Seriously...why do you need to hit on any girls, when you have me around?"
Mugen's eyes widened. "So what, you want me to hit on you?"
Before Fuu had the chance to answer, the two men across the bar approached their table. One filled the space that Giri and Tsuru had left, while the other flanked Fuu's opposite side.
The taller one leaned towards her. "Welcome to Takasago, beautiful."
She waited for Mugen to say something, anything, to get the creeps off her back. Much to her dismay, he called over the bartender again, saying some flirtatious words that in the haze of her intoxication, she had a hard time hearing.
"A pretty girl who likes to drink is rare in these parts." said the guy on her left.
"Is this man here, bothering you?" the other on her right asked.
At that, Mugen glanced back over...only to notice how intently the guy was staring at Fuu's chest. Not only Mugen noticed that, apparently. All of a sudden, the red faced girl slammed her sake cup on the table, rattling all the other bits of porcelain.
"Yeah yeah! I KNOW! Flat as a board! SOOOORRY, for not being a big breasted COW, moron!" she slurred out, voice rising and falling at the oddest of intervals.
One of the men still had a hand on her shoulder. To his surprise and horror, she grabbed it, twisting back his fingers in the opposite direction they were meant to go, until he winced and retracted his hand from where it'd rested on her.
Then, she teetered towards the other man's face, snarling.
"Say, why don't you just go bother the bartender or something! Can't you see I'm in the middle of the BATTLE OF MY LIFE?!"
Mugen stared at her, incredulously. The broad was hammered already!
Both of the men's jaws dropped. They then eased away from the table, scampering off to the other side of the tavern to try their luck elsewhere.
"Can you BELIEVE those guys? I guess they must have some balls, coming up to me, when I'm clearly sitting here with you."
At six shots in, Mugen knew enough was enough. This stuff was way too strong for an amateur lightweight like her.
He reached across the table to swipe away her sake cup. Yet despite her clear levels of drunk, Fuu managed to snatch it to her side. With one swish of her arm, she threw it back, and slammed the choko on the counter so hard, it easily could've shattered.
"Girlie, I think ya had enough…"
"No! ANOTHER!" she raised her empty glass.
The bartender came back over, pouring a fresh new cup, and sending the very annoyed Mugen another coquettish smile.
After seven shots...Fuu's face thudded onto the surface of the table.
Nursing his last drink for the night, a buzzed, though still very much composed Mugen shook his head, with a small chuckle. He admired her spirit if anything, taking it this far, even if it only brought him trouble. Digging into his pocket, his fingers brushed against only a few measly coins. They were short...by a lot. Giri only had paid for their first three rounds and left him to cover the rest!
"Bastard…"
The bartender collected their porcelain cups. Slipping her tongue across her lower lip, she tittered to herself, "Looks like your friend here couldn't handle her liquor. I doubt she'd be able to handle you either."
"Nah, ya got it all twisted. She's the one who's hard to handle."
"Well…my shift ends in a few minutes." She leaned down by his ear. "So, how about you ditch the deadweight and come back to my place? It's just down the road."
Instantly at her words, he clambered from his seat. The bartender, pressed her hand upon his forearm, squeezing gently. The vagrant spilled out the pathetic contents of his pocket onto the table with little tact or care, knowing full well it wouldn't cover the tab.
The bartended tugged on his arm.
To her surprise however, Mugen shrugged her hand right off of him and pushed passed her. She watched, eyes widening and lips upturning, as he maneuvered around to the other side of the table, where the girl in pink still had her nose and cheeks pressed into the wood after faceplanting there.
"Sorry lady, but she's more than enough for me ta' deal with tonight."
Mugen shook Fuu's shoulder. Grumbling, her face tilted slightly to face him, though she'd yet to open her eyes.
Annoyed, he pinched her right cheek between his thumb and finger, tugging none too gently. "Wakey wakey, sunshine."
Although she didn't bother to open her eyes, her brow crinkled together, as she absentmindedly swatted his hand away.
"Mmm… Five more minutes…"
"Come on. You don't want me ta' ditch you and go home with this cow, do ya?"
Immediately, Fuu, eyes wide, shot right up to sitting straight. "I'm awake!"
He almost laughed at her intoxicated honesty.
That cow comment had the bartender gasping and huffing, before swiping for the coins dumped on the table. She made a fast retreat, the harsh stomps of her steps hard enough to crack the floor.
As Fuu stood, she nearly fell back over, had her hands not caught onto to corner of the table. Mugen, not bothering to help her up, walked towards the exit with his companion swaying a step behind. But then the bartender re-emerged after having counted the coins.
"Hey! This isn't enough! You still owe me for four rounds of shots!"
In one second, Mugen grabbed Fuu's arm, tugging her from the bar. But Fuu was an inebriated mess, who couldn't make it a few feet without falling. Walking two steps straight seemed too much a challenge for her, with the way she wobbled on her heels, and eventually stumbled onto her knees. He practically had to drag her limp body along the cobblestoned road, all while the shouts of the bartender and the other workers gained on their heels.
"Fuckin' hell. You're too slow!"
When they turned a corner, Mugen hastily unslung his sword sheath, pressing it horizontally against his lower back.
"Hurry up and hop on!"
As if it were something typical, she clumsily climbed on top of his back without question, even though he'd only given her a piggyback ride once before. Fuu shimmied on top of the sheathed blade with her legs on the sides of his waist, while Mugen rested his hands on the sides of his sword.
Mugen broke into a run, Fuu drunkenly mumbling out half sentences in his ear, while she hugged his shoulders.
"Where were those two stayin'?"
"I don't knowwwww. Why don't you go ask them?" Fuu slurred.
"Son of a BITCH!"
After leaving the tavern some time ago, Giri and Tsuru strolled to find lodgings for the night through the unfamiliar streets of Takasago village. They thought they'd heard some shouts in the distance, though the sound eventually died, and a tender quiet returned that could only be found in the countryside.
While the plum sake had been enough to warm her, Tsuru knew it hadn't been the three shots that allowed her bravery to edge higher. It had been Fuu. Ever since they'd first met in the carriage outside of Wakayama, the noblewoman thought her to be a very pretty woman, yet quirkier and more different than any woman she'd met before. She could not have asked for a better female role model to have in her travels. Speaking her mind, defending people she didn't even know…it was little wonder that a lawless vagabond like Mugen would grow attached to Fuu. It made her curious as to why they ever separated at all. Tsuru couldn't even fathom being separated from her own bodyguard for such an extended period of time. She thought, in a small moment of unrest, that this made her too reliant on him.
She quickly shook away the thought. Tsuru needed to know how Giri truly felt about her, once and for all.
Raising her shivering hand, she reached forward to Giri, who walked just a pace ahead of her. Her fingers took hold of his forearm, just below his elbow, halting his stride.
He turned around, "Yes, Hime-sama?"
A step closer, then another, Tsuru left little space between them. All the while, her hands rose up from his arm. Gently, she pressed her palms to her bodyguard's chest. He looked down at her hands on him, and then at her face, where her wine colored eyes sparkled in the dim light.
She stood on her tiptoes, lashes lowering. Her lips parted, tilting closer to his mouth.
Without any hesitance, Giri grabbed the young girl by the shoulders, squeezing, and then pushed her back from him.
"Stop this, Hime-sama. You're intoxicated." he said sternly.
"...I am not. I...I just want you to look at me...not as your lord, but just as a woman."
His eyes widened. Everything about the situation was inappropriate to him. Again, she raised her hands to touch him. Before that could occur, Giri lightly caught them in his half-closed fists.
"You know not what you say."
"I do, Giri. ...I have feelings for you." she smiled shyly up at him, even when his mouth had turned to a thin line. "I have, for a long time. So, please...please tell me what you think of me."
Rather than pull her closer, or hold onto her hands, Giri lowered them back down to her sides and gently relinquished them from his grip.
Giri knew what she wanted to hear: an answer that was impossible to give. There was no way that the thirty five year old samurai could view Tsuru-himegimi—a woman he'd known since she was an infant—in the way she desired. While it was true that she had grown to become a beautiful young lady during the sixteen years of his service, his mind could not see her in any type of passionate state.
Staring down at her even now, through his eyes, a faint remnant of the past still remained: a little girl, reaching out her arms so he could pick her up.
"Giri..."
And when she whispered his name, through his ears, a vague shard of the past still remained: the voice of that same sweet little girl, shouting out an excited "Gigi!" with that funny little lisp.
"Though you are my lord, and I would do my utmost to make you happy...I am afraid that this is one thing I cannot give you... I cannot return these feelings. While you mean the world to me...I can never love you in such a way."
Tsuru's face tensed, knowingly. She lowered her gaze to her feet. Even when she'd expected such a solemn answer all along, it didn't stop the welling of her eyes.
"Forgive me... Please...please forget I said anything."
Giri placed a palm on her shoulder.
"Let us get to an inn. You are probably exhausted..."
Behind him, every step of the way, he knew Tsuru cried, though she'd hid her tears behind her kimono sleeve. Giri allowed her the privacy in this moment. It broke his heart to hurt the girl he cherished more than any other, in such an awful way. But despite all the things he'd do for her without question, this was the only thing that he knew he could not give.
When he paid for their stay at the inn, and they looked over their sleeping quarters, Tsuru silently trudged across the room, laying on her futon without a word. Giri knelt formally on the floor nearby.
"...I had never meant to cause your feelings to grow in this way. But, I believe...it is not romantic love you bear for me...but attachment. You have been around so few men throughout your childhood, that I cannot blame you for your feelings being clouded and confusing."
Though Tsuru doubted his words...she hoped with all her heart that Giri was right on the matter. Otachi laid beside her, licking her open hand, if only to provide her what little comfort he could give. She pet the top of his snout.
"Giri?"
"Yes, Hime-sama?"
"...Do you still think about her?"
Giri's jaw set tightly. "...Who?"
"Before you were in service to my family...there was someone...wasn't there. Someone you loved once."
He averted his gaze to the floor of the inn. He had not known his lord to be so astute at such a tender young age; Kameko had passed away when Tsuru was only six. But maybe back then, on that day he'd received the final letter, maybe she'd known why he'd lost himself in a moment of weakness.
A soft exhale left him, "I have not thought about her...in many years."
This much was true. His lost love had not even crossed his mind until yesterday. After her death, he'd thrown himself into his work and his duties to the Tokugawa family; maybe it had helped him move on. The only thing that he had allowed to matter to him then, was protecting and nurturing Tsuru. With no child of his own, the princess became the closest thing he'd ever had to one, and likely would ever have to one.
"In truth, I…" he started.
His sad eyes still stared at the black strips of the tatami rug, as if trying to lose himself in a moment of the past, but not being able to find the way there. Seeing Giri look so disheartened, made Tsuru's heart feel even more pained than in the moment he'd rejected her.
"I...cannot even remember what she looked like anymore."
Even romantic love had been exiled from his heart. It was a distraction, and would have only caused a burden he could not bear. It would only draw him away from his duty.
"Strange...isn't it. Perhaps...I had forced her from my memory. But...that is all distant history now. She passed away a decade ago."
"...Do you ever regret that you couldn't be with her?"
"Maybe once, I did, when I was still young." he chuckled, and then looked back up at her. "But now, I am happy I was there to watch you grow up."
Giri shuffled over to Tsuru, grasping the edges of the quilt at the foot of her futon. He pulled them over her and Otachi, who'd snuggled at her side. With much care, he tucked in the edges of the blankets over her shoulders, just as he'd done for her so many times, when she had just been a little girl.
"Forgive me, Giri… Forgive me for what I did. I didn't-"
"There is nothing to forgive." he smiled down at her, brushing a stray piece of black hair from her pale cheek. "Hime-sama, one day you will meet a young man around your own age. He will be intelligent and kind and good to you. He will make you feel ways that I could never make you feel."
"...I am in no rush to meet that man." she tried to smile back. "For now, I want to stay like this, traveling together. Even after what I said...you won't leave me, Giri?"
"I will always stay by your side for as long as you'll have me there."
Tsuru crept her hand from under the quilts, outstretching her pinky finger towards him.
When he interlocked his own pinky with hers, she sang a silly childhood rhyme he'd once taught her many happy years ago.
"Yubi kiri genman, uso tsuitara...hari sen bon nomasu, yubi kitta!"
"Pinky promise, if you tell a lie...drink one thousand needles, and cut off your finger!"
Seeing their fingers intertwined, Otachi also shuffled from the blanket, placing his paw over their hands, as if to officially seal the promise. For the first time in a long while, Giri and Tsuru's serious expressions faded. They broke into pleasant laughter together, the soft sound of it filling up the whole inn room.
Lost. Completely lost in the dark. A shabby town like Takasago should have had only one inn, but all the lanterns of the village were burnt out, and Mugen couldn't tell a mere house from a bed and breakfast. He was too damn tired for this shit, and the annoyance of being lost, hiding from the law, and toting around a ridiculously drunk girl had gradually whittled away his buzz. As he carted Fuu along, the houses on the cobbled road grew more sparse, until the only notable landmarks they passed were little more than those stones they'd seen on the road to Takasago earlier. Deep within them, were the carvings of two figures—an old man and woman—contentedly smiling up at him. Mugen scoffed.
Eventually, he found himself staring up at the weathered, brown torii at the entrance of a Shinto Shrine: the first building he'd seen in some time. Peering first to his left, then his right, he traversed through the gate of the Kami, Fuu still in tow.
Whatever Gods this place venerated, they must have held them at high regard. Despite being in a seemingly unremarkable town, the shrine grounds were fairly large. In the corner near the entrance to the shrine, there was even the stage of a Noh Theatre, though seemed to not have been in use for some time. Unlike on the roads, the stone lanterns on the grounds lit his path that otherwise would've been darkened by the numerous bamboo stalks and bending trunks of the slanted pine trees.
Without any warning, he unceremoniously dumped Fuu from his back, and slung his sword back over his stressed shoulder. Fuu tumbled to the dirt.
"OW! What the HELL, Mugen!"
"Shut up." he spat.
Mugen hopped up the steps of the shrine altar and roughly jostled the brass handles of the hall of worship. Some vicious shakes later, it became apparent that the doors had no intentions of budging; it was locked up tight. Once, he even kicked the door with his heel, though it barely shifted, then descended back down the small stone flight. He tried several of the other surrounding buildings on the grounds, storage rooms, charm shops, and whatever other purposes these places served that he didn't care to know. None opened for him. All the while, Fuu still sat in the same place he'd dropped her. Now though, she merely giggled at him, as he swore harder and paced faster. Her head swayed from side to side.
If they slept out in plain view, chances are some policeman would notice them, and remember the report of bill dodging. Not to mention, they could get arrested here just for loitering or trespassing. He scanned the general vicinity one last time.
Mugen approached a distant building to the right of the main altar. Again, it was locked. He'd almost given up. Almost, but not quite.
Nearby, was a slatted wooden fence. Sacred rope made from rice straw and white shide streamers, cut in the shapes of zigzags, draped around the fence posts. It did not surround a building, but rather circled an enclosure. Inside, a pair of tall, yet old aioi pines stood, their trunks strangely intertwined around one another, as they ascended to the starry skies overhead. Paper notes tied in ribbons had even been hung on some of the branches of the trees, likely containing wishes and desires scribbled onto them.
He stomped back to Fuu, snatched her by the arm, and tugged her along to the set of sacred trees.
"Mugen…" she whimpered.
Still, he tugged her up, even as she stumbled drunkenly behind him.
"Mugen, stop."
But he didn't hear her.
"Stop! You're hurting me!"
That had him halt in his stride. Immediately, he released her arm. Fuu rubbed onto her bruising wrist.
Mugen looked away, scoffing and went to try the wooden gate. Even if it was locked, they could easily hop over the waist-high fence. Regardless, the gate swung open for them without incident.
"Hurry your slow ass up, before someone sees us."
He watched her tipsily teeter into the little fenced yard with the two trees, before closing the gate behind them. Though open, and the fence barely passed his head, they'd be able to hide here, under the coniferous canopy, at least until the morning. With a sigh, Mugen took a seat against the intertwined evergreens, tucking his chin towards his chest, and his hands under his elbows. Fuu tripped on the thick, scraggly roots jutting from the grassy mound, until a beat later, she fell beside him.
"Dumb broad. You're fucking lucky you got me around when you're wasted! You were just beggin' for a guy to come along, like what he sees, and take advantage of ya."
"Mm… Is that why you brought me here?"
"...What?"
"You know. Like at the stable." she giggled drunkenly.
"...Stop."
"Tonight, I thought you'd...
"Stop talkin'."
"...finally have your way with me."
"SHUT UP!"
The yell boomed across the entirety of the shrine grounds. Fuu fell silent, as did the insects chattering in the branches overhead.
Maybe he'd been harsh. But it was better that he was.
It was better this way. It had to be this way.
Her hands squeezed onto her kimono, wrinkling up the blue pinwheels embroidered into the pink cloth.
"It's not...fair."
Before Mugen even had the chance to raise his head, a flurry of intoxicated clumsiness in the form of a girl lunged his way. A batter of fists collided into his chest; they were so light and weak, but the pressure of each strangely stung.
"Notfairnotfairnotfairrrrrrr!"
"G-girlie!"
"All those times… You kiss me whenever you want. Touch me all you want! How come you can do whatever you want to me, but I can't say one sentence?!
Fuu continued pummeling him with her little fists. With every pathetic assault, her kimono and juban slipped from the loosened knot of her red obi, cascading down the soft slope of her shoulder. He watched as her movements slowed. But then, she eased herself all the closer to him, climbing over his legs, and attempted to seat herself on top of him.
Mind reeling, Mugen tried to back away, only feeling his haori rucking up and his back catch against the barbed bark of the tree trunk.
"It's just...just not fair. You're so cruel to me...and then you do all these nice things for me! You're driving me absolutely CRAZY, you big, dumb JERK!"
She'd somehow managed to seat herself on his lap. Rather than continue colliding her knuckles into his chest, as the effort proved futile, she instead gripped onto the hems of his shirt, tugging and pulling until the fabric threatened to fray.
"What the fuck are ya-!"
"It's my turn! Finally! I'm...taking advantage of you." she slurred.
The words nearly made his eyes bulge out of his head. He watched her lean in to him, her mouth nearing ever closer. Glossy. Wet.
Both his hands found her shoulders.
"Cut this shit out, woman!"
As he pushed forward forcefully onto her shoulders, Fuu hung onto his shirt with such a surprisingly fierce grip for a drunk girl. Sooner would the fabric rip than he could pry her off.
So when he attempted to stand, while harshly shoving her onto the grass behind her...she had made sure to tug him down with her...
"Ah!"
A small thud later, her back fell upon the ground, the two kanzashi sticks clattering from her hair. Just before he'd fallen, his hands left her shoulders, bracing onto the grass on each side of her head to avoid the impact of his body crashing upon hers. His body hovered right over her, knees pressing into the outsides of her thighs.
He kept his weight off of her. But her hands...her hands still clutched onto his shirt.
"You're drunk."
"Don't care."
"Let go of my damn shirt."
"Don't wanna."
He bared his teeth, outright growling at the frustratingly unreasonable woman below him, as if such a ridiculous thing could scare her, when she wasn't even scared he killed people in front of her. She stared up at him, brown eyes sparkling, and innocently nibbling on her lower lip, until it grew a ripened red. Flushed brilliantly, Fuu's cheeks revealed how much she'd had to drink…or maybe what the compromising position they were in, did to her.
Once again, as if spiting him, Fuu's clothes had slipped from her collarbone, exposing the soft contours to the moonlight. Damn kimonos. They came loose when he didn't want them to, and were a chore and a half to remove, when he wanted them off. Her red collar has parted so much down her chest, his eyes unintentionally drank in the sight of the top of her bindings. Mugen felt himself gulp down saliva and opted for looking away.
"...Why are you pushing me away again?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"Please...look at me."
But he couldn't look at her.
"...Did I do something wrong? Did I do something you hate?" Her fingers squeezed tighter on the fabric of his shirt. "Please, tell me...what is it about me that you hate so much."
That particular statement shot his eyes back down to her. It nearly had him laugh; tough, bratty Fuu would never say such vulnerable things normally. Or maybe...these were things she stopped herself from saying normally. The alcohol threw away all her inhibition, until little more remained but doubt and vulnerability.
"Girlie, you're really goddamn hammered. You don't even know what the hell you're mouthin' off about."
"Then...you're scared…"
"Oh yeah? What the fuck am I scared of, then, huh?"
"Me."
Wind rustled through the pine needles overhead. The white shide streamers tied to the gate flapped against the wooden slats. The breeze billowed through their hair, and upon their sweaty skin.
Mugen stared down at Fuu.
"You?" he sneered, but really, it sounded more like he'd choked. "Woman, you can't even fucking hold your liquor and ya think I'm-"
"Not just me… Of us."
He couldn't even remember what he wanted to say.
That was what it was. He was afraid. Afraid something would happen to her. Afraid it would be his fault. Afraid he'd have to live with that guilt. Afraid he'd ruin her life. Afraid of feeling things he'd never even remotely contemplated before he met her.
Mugen wished he could remember what it was like to not feel these ridiculous emotions. Anger suited him so much better. He also wished he could think of something fast enough to stop her from speaking. No word came to mind.
"...Why?" she whispered. "Why do you act like nothing is happening between us?"
Her eyes stayed fixed on his. Even though her brown eyes were once glazed by intoxication, he thought for a moment, he saw the faintest hint of clarity. They pinned him to her, even harder than her grip on his shirt did.
He gritted his teeth. "And what is happenin' between us? Do you even know?!"
"...Kiss me and maybe we can find out."
The wind stilled.
Only her breathing played over the immensely suffocating quiet. Mugen realized that the reason he couldn't hear his own breathing, was because, for too long of a minute, he'd been holding it in. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for that answer. Her hands still clutched onto his white shirt, wrinkling it up into two bunches.
"Fuu…" he exhaled. " I ain't gonna-"
"You told me before...a kiss doesn't have to mean anything. And you've kissed other women for less… So why not me?"
"...You ain't other women."
Mugen wondered if he was more inebriated than he once surmised. But he couldn't regret his answer long.
Because Fuu tugged him down.
It happened so fast. He didn't even have a chance to lock his elbows. Or to pull back. Drunk Fuu, somehow, had caught him by surprise, caught him unaware.
Caught him with a kiss.
His mouth opened from the surprise of it, giving her just the opportunity to slip her tongue right in. Softly and with much inexperience, she caressed the insides of his mouth. The bittersweet taste of sake coated every wet crevice that he unintentionally tasted. And here...he wondered with much regret, if that night in Kyoto, when he kissed her twice, this was what it'd been like for her...
It was so sloppy. Desperate.
How bad it tasted. How wrong it felt. It wasn't like her at all. None of this was right.
As quickly as he could manage, Mugen pushed himself as far up as possible. She moaned out a protest into his mouth just before their lips separated, the thick string of saliva still clinging between their tongues.
Her cheeks flushed, and she breathed so heavily, that every inhale and exhale made her kimono loosen all the more. Below him, Fuu looked so vulnerable...yet so willing.
It made him want to vomit.
"Mugen…"
Even now, she still had yet to relinquish her grip from the fabric of his shirt.
"Mugen...I…"
"Let go of me."
Hearing those words made the strength leave her hands; her fingers finally loosened from his shirt, falling defenselessly onto the grass by each side of her head.
Mugen slipped off of her, pushed himself from the ground, and teetered to his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.
Fuu, despite her drunkenness, somehow found a way to sit up straight. Her hands went to pull up the collar of her kimono that had since slipped all the way down her shoulders, her fingers gripping onto it tightly, as if somehow his cold words caused her to freeze.
Mugen turned his back on her. Now was the time to run away.
"I-I'm sorry…" she stuttered out suddenly. "I just...I just wanted to kiss you for a while... I thought the sake would give me the nerve and...now I'm drunk...and I k-keep messing up. I don't even know how to-why I'm...I don't...I don't know why I'm even trying. I'm so...so stupid."
He didn't want to hear another word.
Drunk Fuu only spoke truths, so many buried truths. But he knew it would be better not to hear such things, no matter how long he'd wondered, nor how much he'd hoped. It made pushing her away, and denying himself, that much harder.
And even though he was a little buzzed, he gritted back the insane desire to pounce back on her, kiss her again, touch everything she'd given him access to, because he'd already made up his damn mind! They couldn't do this!
Five steps later, he reached the gate of the sacred twin pines that had concealed them. Just as his hand lingered upon the latch, Fuu mumbled out more words that he could not for the life of him ignore.
"If it's like this…I wish you never found out… I wish you would just look at me the same as before!"
Same as before? As if he looked at her any differently. She'd always been Fuu to him.
She hadn't changed at all. Tough, bratty, bossy Fuu.
The Fuu that didn't take shit from anyone. Not even him. The Fuu that had a louder mouth, and more bravery than most of the pirates he'd sailed with back in the day. The Fuu that always got herself in trouble, and half the time managed to get out of it, even without his help. Fuu was a brave fucking chick. The fact that she could barely fight and could easily get hurt, just showed all the more, how brave she was for jumping into things she couldn't handle.
But she was more than all that. Fuu understood and cared for people. Cried for people that no one else bothered to remember. Helped people that didn't even know they needed help, until she met them. Changed them.
She was the girl that turned his whole life on its fucking head.
But this Fuu right now, vulnerable, and crying was the part of her he hated most of all. Because the most times he'd seen her like this...had all been because of him. Crying because he was cruel to her. Crying over his injuries. Crying all the times he nearly died.
"I'm just…" she muttered to herself. "...not enough. I'll never be enough…"
His hand drifted away from the gate.
It clenched into a fist.
Not enough…?
Mugen turned back around, and looked down at her from the distance.
Furious.
Her shoulders shook. When a tear fell upon the back of her hand, she drunkenly tried to contain her sobs, only causing her to hiccup outrageously. She'd buried her face in her hands.
"I'm sorry…" she sniveled. "I'm so sorry for burdening you, Mugen."
Not enough?!
His feet moved back on their own, before he could even stop himself.
How stupid was she. That wasn't the problem at all.
Not enough?
No.
She was too much!
Once, he thought the sting of today would ensure her the happiness of tomorrow: a tomorrow with Jin. He now saw that pushing her away wasn't worth seeing her like this at all.
"You drive me fuckin' crazy, woman!"
Shit. Now he was yelling at her. As if that would make the situation any better.
Slowly, Fuu uncovered her face, revealing the puffiness of her eyes, the liquid coming down her nose. She was a mess. It felt like he wasn't looking at the seventeen year old Fuu at all. It was like seeing the Fuu of two years ago, just entering womanhood, whiny and crying over the most trivial of matters.
"I'm sorry Mugen...I'm really sorry. I didn't…"
But the words were slipping out. And he couldn't stop himself anymore. He just couldn't handle it.
"You frickin' moron! You really don't got a goddamn clue what you do ta' me, do you?!"
She looked up suddenly, "I...I always make you want to leave!"
She always made him want to come back! No one ever made him feel like that. No one.
Running a hand through his unkempt hair, his fingers gripped the locks and squeezed until they might tear out, up to the point where he threw his arm back to his side with a swear.
"I ain't ever left for long."
Then she locked eyes with him again. The image of a crying child instantly faded.
"You have!" she shouted.
He looked down at her, eyes widening. The seriousness in her voice had him bracing on his geta.
"I waited. I waited and waited on that beach...and you never… You never showed up!"
"What beach? What the hell are ya mumblin' about?!"
Fuu, lost in her intoxicated babbles, went on, never stopping to explain. "You didn't follow me. I was so stupid, waiting around for a whole year…and you never even...you never even bothered to look for me."
Mugen was finding it harder to breathe.
"I thought for sure 'He'll come back for the dumplings. I still owe him, after all.' but...but you didn't. Even back then...I wasn't enough for you."
Honesty fell off of every syllable, even more than tears fell from her eyes. She swiped at her face, but the droplets still gushed free.
"If you hadn't shown up in Edo, I'd still be waiting there for you, right now. And now even nine months after that...it feels like I'm still waiting...when you're right here, right in front of me. I can't...I can't take this."
He didn't really know what to say to that. Drunk Fuu was something else. A whole whirlwind of emotions that he'd never seen before. Tears, laughs, smiles, yells. She was everything in one. The whole bundle.
Maybe, if Jin were here instead, he'd crouch down and embrace her. He'd hug her tight. He'd place a hand on her shoulder, or caress her back.
But he wasn't Jin; far from it, in fact. He wanted to kiss her. And yet, she was so drunk that such a thing just didn't seem right. So all he did and knew how to do, was give her one long, stupefied stare.
There was still so much she didn't know. How he'd run himself ragged, looking for her. Stopping in random roadside teahouses. Eavesdropped for any info on a girl in a pink kimono. It'd been she who threw him away, back then, with only a half assed promise that they'd one day meet again, if the fates were generous. That's what he'd always thought and believed and resented.
It even made him want to believe in fate and all that other mystic gibberish.
Now...he was the bad guy, for not chasing after her? He didn't know what to say. So he said nothing at all.
Instead, he drew closer, and sank back down against the base of the tree, the anger sucked right out of him. He was a damn fool. Couldn't even last a week of pushing her away. It was too late for that. He'd allowed it to go too far, got addicted to the girl, just as he'd always feared. Maybe that was why he'd always treated her so cruelly on their first journey; it kept her a safe distance away.
"You're a real piece of work, ya know that?"
Slowly her sobbing eased into gentle, spaced out hiccups.
"What are you...doing?"
"If I don't stick around, some guy'll come along and take advantage of your drunk ass. Remember?"
"...So you'll stay with me tonight?"
"Only if you stop cryin' and go ta' sleep."
But he knew that if she kept crying, he'd have even less of a reason to leave.
"I'm sorry… I'm always crying…like a stupid kid…"
"Give yourself some credit. You're pretty fuckin tough. Hell, I don't know any other chicks who can handle gettin' picked on by a dick like me. I bet most woulda' turned tail and ran away by now."
"...You're not a dick." she hiccupped again. "You're...youre…"
"An asshole." he snorted.
The next hiccup was laced by a laugh. When it died down, she shyly glanced to him again. "Mugen… Can I come closer?"
"It's better ya don't." he muttered. "I'm one of those bad guys who'll take advantage of ya."
"...You are?"
"Yup. And Four-Eyes ain't around anymore ta' stop me."
Mugen squeezed his eyes shut. He'd meant it as a cruel joke...but wondered how much truth hid in it. He'd been tempted enough to kiss her. If she kept goading him, he'd have to fight that temptation again.
Many seconds passed, but he'd heard no sound from Fuu. She must have not moved at all. When he opened his eyes, she was still sitting up, eyes still welling up.
Mugen groaned, lifting his hand.
"Oi, drunkie…"
She finally looked up.
Twice, Mugen curled his pointer finger, beckoning her closer.
Her eyes glowed. This had been what she wanted...after all.
Again, he shut his tired eyes, if only to prevent any temptation at seeing Fuu crawling forward on all fours, while that pink kimono came loose again. As she padded closer to him, he still heard the silk rustle of fabric, and her knees gently shifting along the dry blades of grass. Mugen expected her to take the space against the tree, beside him. What he did not expect, was for her to crawl between his spread legs. Too late to move now...
The lightness of her body pressed into him. When the drunk girl nuzzled her cheek against his chest, he felt something burning or breaking inside him; he couldn't tell exactly what the feeling was, nor did he want to dwell on it.
"So warm..." she whispered.
"...Go ta' sleep."
This whole thing was remarkably too intimate.
Only a few nights ago, he wanted to say "fuck you" to Jin. Sickening as it was to him to consider, Mugen thought it was not a curse, but an apology that was owed—maybe even a word of gratitude too.
This journey to find him, long and challenging as it'd been, afforded him time with Fuu. Because...that was what it was, wasn't it? He'd bought borrowed time.
It was like that time two years ago, in Hamamatsu; he gave Jin the money to buy that Shino woman. He could've gone with him to the brothel, had himself a good time with a lovely lady, neglected his responsibilities as a bodyguard, as he so often did. Instead, he sent Jin off with the money alone, a generous act, unforeseen before. But while he'd done it because he felt a bit sorry for him, there of course, was another motive. After all, he'd always been such a selfish man.
With Jin gone working for the eel stand, he'd gotten time with Fuu, holed up in their little inn room together, day after rainy day. When he went with the Shino woman, that meant even more time. He had just lounged around, and dragged her to the gambling hall with him, and slept easy, knowing she had slept close by…
Had it truly been that early? Had he been trying to buy time with her alone, since way back then? Thinking it had him scoff it off...even when the sinking feeling in his gut called his bluff.
Now on this new journey, he had nine months of it: nine fucking months of borrowed time, of Fuu all to himself. He'd gotten to her before Jin did, beaten the man in a race. And what did he do with the victory?
Made her scream? Made her cry?
Once they reached Jin, things would undoubtedly change between them. He knew that. And he could accept that. At least, he hoped he could. But for now, he wouldn't dwell on it. He'd be like he used to be, living in the moment, in the present, regardless of the consequences. Maybe that made him a fool. Or weak. Or both.
Mugen hadn't realized how much he'd contemplated, until he heard Fuu softly speak in her slumber, loosening the tightening of his brow, and the tightness in his chest.
"You couldn't take advantage of me, Mugen. Even if you wanted to... It's just...not...possible…"
"Dumb broad…"
Mugen lifted one of his arms, ready to place it around the curve of her waist.
The pale moonlight poked through the pine needles. The tender light shone upon the rings on his wrists, the faded ink a constant reminder of his past, of what he used to be, yet also a constant reminder of his future, and the way the world will always perceive him. Instead of resting his arm over her, he lifted his hand to pull up her kimono over her shoulder, and settled for leaving his arm at his side.
That gentle light also fell over her face against his chest. Her breathing had finally steadied.
He watched as she smiled, the way she gently released an unfeminine snore, and how she mumbled out two syllables in her sleep…
"Mu...gen…"
Staring down at her, he realized then and there, that he didn't want to waste another second of this borrowed time.
As Tsuru gently slept beside Otachi, her bodyguard crept from their inn room, sliding the shoji door closed. He descended the porch deck, breathing in the night air. Giri had been glad to not drink like the others; he could not afford to dull his senses with intoxication. How he envied the laxness of youth...
After all, he knew that someone had been following them for some time now.
Giri's fingers drifted over the hilt of his katana.
And he also knew, the very moment he stepped outside, that their frequent stalker hid underneath the porch deck...and had begun to creep behind him.
At the same precise momemt, the two men drew their weapons.
Giri placed the sharpened blade against the dark figure's jugular.
At the same time, he felt the pointed tip of a crossbow bolt jammed against his chest. One press of the trigger, and it would go off.
A draw. Neither moved to deliver the killing blow.
...If he had a crossbow, Giri wondered why the man hadn't just stayed beneath the porch, and discharged the bolt from there. While he could've deflected it if he were quick enough, it would've at least given the attacker a better chance.
Only when Giri notice his masked opponent's dark eyes, did he immediately know the reason. A ghost of his past had come to knock on his door this evening.
The man chuckled, "You never disappoint, Giri."
The crossbow retracted from Giri's chest first, easily allowing him the opportunity to cut down the figure in black. But he didn't take it, instead, lowering his own weapon down to his side.
"Kiichi… So, it really was you, tracking us."
"And I must say, you're a tough man to find. You move fast and cover your tracks well."
"...The only thing that is keeping me from cutting you down, is the favors you did for me long ago. So speak quickly, before I have a change of heart."
"I thought I'd inform you on the state of Edo and Wakayama… The princess' disappearance has been covered up, and the wedding postponed. They claim that it is her health."
Giri thought this would happen. If word got out that the Shogun could not keep tabs on his own daughter, the people's reflection of his leadership would shine poorly.
"...However," Kiichi went on. "The Kishu branch of the shogunate knows the truth. They still want their wedding to a trueborn daughter of the Shogun, be it of a concubine or not. And they grow impatient. Shogun Tsunayoshi, had another daughter to an unfavored concubine. She'd been raised in luxury but is unknown to the public. However, she is still a true born daughter to him."
"...Yae-himegimi? She is but a child of eight!"
"A child of eight that is the shogun's blood. To cover up Tsuru's disappearance, they intend to change Yae's name to Tsuru. And Lord Tsunayoshi has agreed to adopt the daughter of Lord Sukenobu. She is just a baby, but will be renamed Yae."
"...People will notice their striking differences in age...that the years don't match up."
"That is why the princesses will live sheltered lives, away from the public and other clans. Only the Tokugawa family will know of this. Eventually, the ages of Tsuru-himegimi and Yae-himegimi will be blotted from the pages of history...until the real Tsuru-himegimi, only daughter of the Shogun and his wife, will forever be forgotten. Only one thing will be known. The Tsuru-himegimi of history will have the most extravagant wedding in the history of the Shogun's rule; a decoy, in a sense."
Kiichi reslung his crossbow over his shoulder, all of the previous tension fading.
"This is what was set into motion, by you running away with her. I gave you time to turn yourself in, and to allow Tsuru-himegimi to come home. That time grows short. Soon, she will not be able to return to her old life or the marriage."
"...She does not want to return."
He nodded solemnly. "...I thought as much."
"You did not come here to exchange information and pleasantries, Kiichi."
"No. No, of course not." the ninja shook his head. "You know as well as I do, that even though we have no use for Tsuru, the Shogunate will continue to hunt you down to the ends of the earth. Her father wants her safe, and wants you punished for your betrayal." Kiichi sighed, folding his arms. "...And if I cannot return her, they will have my head."
Even now, Giri's hand squeezed over the handle of his sword. "And you know I will not hand her over so easily."
"Well, that is why I hope we can compromise. ...Give me something the Shogunate wants, something more valuable than a princess who betrayed her family and has run amok with her feelings.… Then, my reputation will be upheld, my life spared and you and the princess may live freely."
The proposition shocked him.
"...And what is more valuable to you, than her?"
"Do you know who you're traveling with?"
Giri stayed silent, even when he felt his stomach drop.
"That woman is the only daughter of Kasumi Seizou, a key conspirator for the Asakusa clan in Shimabara. While her father is dead, we have reason to believe she possesses the locations of many kakure Christians still hiding throughout Japan. Her information is vital to stamping out the last of the Christian faith. The Shogunate wants her alive. As for her bodyguard: alive or dead. It matters not to me. He is too dangerous for me to face in open combat..."
Giri had thought as much of Mugen the very first time they'd met. Yet, all his bad opinions of him had long since changed, ever since seeing his interactions with Fuu. The man's honor rivaled that of most of the samurai he'd known in Edo, so it was no wonder that his skills with a blade did too.
"If you do not believe the threat he poses, then let me tell you, she possessed another bodyguard: Jin Takeda, who slew Senior Guard Captain, Kariya Kagetoki. Did you not know him personally?"
As far as Giri knew...Kariya Kagetoki was the most skilled samurai belonging to the Shogunate. They met briefly, on occasion, when he had met with the Shogun's council…
"For a man of his talents to be slain... I...I had no idea..."
"According to records, Jin of the Takeda clan was slain in a duel against his fellow student, Hojo Yukimaru. However, the vagrant known only as Mugen, is believed to be just as skilled... We know only that he and Fuu are headed west. Do you have any idea where?"
"We're headed to Hiroshima!"
He remembered Fuu saying something like that. Tsuru had told him that Fuu intended to meet her old bodyguard. He wondered if this Jin was truly dead, and Fuu and Mugen chased a dream. Or, if perhaps the two knew he was alive while the government did not.
"No… I have no idea. They appear to be wandering aimlessly, as far as I can tell."
"I see. ...Regrettably, I had already let Mugen and Fuu slip through my fingers before… On the road from Wakayama, I had not known at all who they were and passed them without a second thought. I hope to not make that mistake a second time. So, I am proposing a trade. A woman for a woman. A man for a man. Give me Mugen and Fuu, and I shall let you and the princess free, avoiding my capture time and time again."
Giri's eyes flitted about, unsteadily, his breathing having gone astray. "You expect me to believe you'd follow through with something as outlandish as that? You're the Shogun's favorite pet. Always have been."
"...We have known each other a long time, Giri. You know I bear no ill will towards you, and especially not to our princess."
Giri wanted to believe this. But...
Kiichi drew closer. In response, his hand on his katana only tightened in its grip.
"I will give you three days to come to a decision. Either you have a three days running start ...or you can ensure her future by delivering Fuu and Mugen to me. I will be waiting on the uninhabited island, just south of the Hinase Peninsula. That way...we will not be interrupted by any of the Shogun's other soldiers."
His breath caught in his throat, as the ninja placed a hand upon his shoulder, squeezing, just as he'd done all that time ago.
"You are a good man. As good as they come. And in the end, we both desire what is best for her. I have faith that you, more than anyone, will take good care of her, like you have all these years. ...But if a life free from the Shogun is what our princess truly desires, a price must be paid."
The oniwaban agent retracted his hand, and walked passed Giri. In this moment, he'd fully exposed his back. If Giri wanted to, he could have cut down Kiichi then and there. But something deep inside him halted the advance.
Memories of Kameko. Memories of how Kiichi had been the one to check up on her for him. Memories of how he'd delivered all those letters.
"I hope that the next time we meet, it will not be as enemies, Giri."
As the winds shifted, Kiichi vanished into the darkness of the night.
Chilled, Giri stood there in silence, before finally sheathing his blade.
He'd always known that the Shogunate would forever follow their heels, that living on the run was such an impossible fancy. And with Kiichi at the helm of the hunt with his network of spies, it was only a matter of time before they'd be found again.
All those promises Kiichi so readily spilled out could be well spoken lies. But with all his heart, he wanted to believe the man. He hadn't shot him with the crossbow...had exposed his back so easily, had not attacked them in the last three nights that he'd been stalking them...
This could very well be their only chance at freedom that they had left.
A proud rooster parading around the grounds of Takasago Shrine crowed a jarring song. Fuu awoke with a start. She peeled her crusted eyes open, and painfully took in the bright morning light cascading down on her from beneath a pine needle canopy. ...She'd slept leaned up against something.
Her bleary eyes came into focus bit by bit, making out a line of x's upon the object serving as a hard, yet warm pillow: a cross hatched shirt. It steadily rose and fell with shallow breaths. Upon realizing it was a him and not an it, that she'd snuggly slept against, her face changed all sorts of colors. However, she couldn't even back away; a tattooed arm was wrapped around her lower back, pinning her to him.
Fuu's memories of the previous night were so fogged up, that all she could remember, was that she'd had far too much to drink, and she must have been crying. Even now, her face felt the aftermath, eyes sore and crusty, and nose stuffed. Her face might even still be swollen. Most troubling though, she didn't know how or why they ended up in such an intimate arrangement, sleeping like this...
Thankfully, Mugen was still asleep, so it wouldn't do any harm, to just close her eyes, and snooze for but a small moment longer, a moment that would fade and never come again. So she nestled deeper against him, inhaling his familiar scent of the sea that blended well with the aromatic pine trees hanging over them.
Another caw of the rooster, shriller than the previous, jolted Fuu from nearly dozing off again. When Mugen fidgeted and let out a groan, she held in a breath. His arm easily unwound from her waist. If Fuu could find that stupid bird, she'd make sure to clamp its fat beak shut.
"...Girlie. You up?"
Fuu chose not to answer. If she could, she'd keep laying against him. Sooner or later though, he'd feel her pounding pulse, or hear the unsteady canter of her breaths. So, wordless, Fuu leaned back and followed the long trail of cross stitches on his shirt, the beads of the magatama necklace, all the way up, until finally, their tired eyes met.
"...We really gotta stop wakin' up like this."
Quickly, she pushed away from him, scrambling onto her knees in the space just between his spread legs. Fuu closed her eyes and braced herself. Any moment he'd chastise her, berate her. He'd drifted so far away this last week, and at this point, she was afraid she didn't know how to pull him back to her again.
"Ya sleep well?"
Fuu opened her eyes. Blushing, she nodded once.
"Least that makes one of us." Groaning, he hunched his sore back away from the trunk of the sacred pines, snapping his neck from side to side. "Shit, my back is stiff as fuck."
"S-sorry…I didn't-" Fuu cradled her temple. "Ah...my head."
It felt like someone had bashed her skull in with a rock. As she swayed to sitting straight, the sharp vibration of sound caused her to unscrew her eyes. To her surprise, Mugen laughed at her. Not a snarky grunt, or a chuckle, but an actual laugh.
"That's called a hangover, girlie."
"I-I know what it's called!" she snapped.
She watched the look on his face shift. Unlike all week, he did not look angry, annoyed or frustrated. Mugen looked remarkably contemplative. Fuu never thought Mugen the type.
"...You sure ain't a fun drunk."
Fuu pushed a small laugh from her lips. "I must have said some embarrassing things...huh."
But he didn't answer. He just stared at her, intensely. Far too intensely.
"...Wha...What is it?"
"I did look."
Her heart rate sped up. But she didn't really understand what he meant. Had he seen an indecent part of her body while she was drunk? Before she could reach any conclusions, Mugen continued, though his gaze averted from hers, down to the grass and fallen pine needles at his side.
"...Didn't start out that way. At first I thought you'd just turn up, like a fuckin'...I don't know, a weird dream I couldn't get out of."
The veil over her memories of the previous night began to pull back, bit by bit, word by word. She'd told him the truth. She'd told him she waited on the night of their separation—and every night since then.
"But then a month went by. So I asked around for a clumsy chick in pink at teahouses. Used ta' check the bars of brothels. Thought I might see your face there. ...Even thought about goin' back to that damn crossroads, and startin' from scratch. But by then, it woulda' been too late. You were long gone."
His tired eyes finally shifted back to hers.
"...After six months...I…"
Gave up. But he didn't say it.
"...Guess I finally woke up to reality."
He also chose not to say how, in the year they'd been apart, he'd drank more, had sex more, picked more fights: a lukewarm attempt at trying to revert back to a simpler time. To what it was like before he met her. No matter what he did, something still always felt off.
"Mugen...are you…"
He ripped a blade of grass from the ground, chewing on the stem. "Forget about it. Don't really matter now, does it..."
It did matter. To know that… To know that, more than anything...
Mugen's head perked up to the musical sound of Fuu's giggle.
"...Then… Right now, is this another dream?"
He turned away, nonchalantly rubbing the base of his neck. "Feels more like a nightmare I'm stuck in, if ya ask me."
Fuu laughed suddenly. She laughed so hard, that she had to cover her face to hide the fact that she was crying before him yet again, just as she must have last night.
He cocked his brow. "What's so funny, broad?"
When she uncovered her face to reveal her teary chocolate eyes gleaming in the sunlight...she also revealed a smile.
"All this time, I never knew you searched for me. You must have...really wanted your one hundred dumplings, huh."
The grass stem nearly fell from his lower lip. But he closed his mouth before it slipped out.
"Yeah."
But he never got his one hundred dumplings. Not even now.
"An' I never knew ya waited around for me." he added. "Guess you really wanted ta' pay me back."
"Yeah…"
But she'd never paid him back. Not even now.
Fuu blinked first, with the sudden urge to cover her blushing face again. Instead, she made an attempt to play it cool, by righting her hair, and tucking her two fallen kanzashi hair pins back into the space between the bun and tail.
"S-s-so um, yeah, okay. I said some embarrassing stuff. But… I-I didn't... do anything embarrassing, did I? It's a little foggy…but…"
"Trippin' over yourself, nearly startin' a fight with a dude at the bar, bawlin' your eyes out…to name a few."
She visibly cringed, shoulders rising, teeth clenching. "Um...did I...d-did we…?"
"Kiss?" he said, all too bluntly.
Fuu's head shot up. She should've known he'd be grinning like a madman.
"We sure did. Well...ta' be more accurate, you kissed me."
The loud rooster crowed another announcement of the sunrise...only to be interrupted halfway by the most ear piercing squeal, echoing across the entire grounds of the shrine. Surely it was not a sudden breeze that had shaken the aioi pines above them. Her embarrassment had him in stitches. A second time, the loud rooster attempted to squawk, only to stop midway, startled by the new bout of laughter.
That hadn't been a dream, after all. Not only did she admit that she waited for him for a year, she kissed him too? This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. At that admission, she couldn't stop herself or play it cool any longer; she buried her face in the palms of her hands to hide her expression of utter horror and the redness in her cheeks that rivaled the effect of the sake last night.
"Man, never thought I'd be the one gettin' takin' advantage of by a drunk girl."
Mugen hopped to his feet, still grinning down at her.
"What's that make, four kisses between us now? Your tongue technique can still use a little work..."
"AH! Stop TALKING!"
Fuu hopped to her feet too, reaching out her open palm. Briefly, she weighed the options of sealing his mouth closed or outright slapping the man. It didn't matter though, since he ducked underneath the coming blow with another snort and slipped into his geta.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd want lessons from Mugen-sensei after all."
Fuu's heart thumped.
"Ew, GROSS Mugen! Don't call yourself that!" she stomped after him.
"Well, when ya graduate the kissing course, maybe Sensei can teach you something a bit more...challenging."
It thumped again, harder.
"PERVERT PERVERT PERVERT. Stop calling yourself sensei, WEIRDO." Fuu screamed, her little fists battering Mugen's back.
Even still, he didn't ease up his snickers. "Maybe I should open up an all girl's school. Damn, I'd be rakin' in the dough!
"NO GIRLS ARE GONNA WANT TO ATTEND YOUR WEIRDO SCHOOL, PERVERT!"
Suddenly, as they made it out to the yard of the shrine, he stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face her. Fuu's nose crashed into his chest. As she leaped back to look up at him, Mugen only closed the distance.
"Y'know…"
"...Eh?"
"I'm fine with havin' just one student."
For some reason, she thought this was Mugen's way of saying, he wanted her to be...be his...his...
"For now at least… Maybe eventually, she'll invite some cute friends. Ya think Tsuru will wanna learn?"
But of course, he ruined it.
Fuu opened her mouth in disbelief. "N-Not from a jerk like you! Be happy you have a student!"
"...Ooooh, so you do wanna be my student."
"N-no wait! That's not-"
Before Fuu realized what was happening, Mugen had approached her, leaning down so close, that she could feel his hot exhale on her sensitive skin. Today, Mugen didn't have her pinned to anything: not a wall of an abandoned stable near Takatsuki, or the rocks of the Arima hot spring. Even still, she found herself unable to back another inch away from him.
"Damn, girlie. At this rate, we may as well move on to the intermediate course soon. So many things I can teach ya how to do."
She could almost imagine Mugen holding up one of those ridiculous price charts he used to make on their old journey to find the sunflower samurai, in an attempt to charge her for any time he beat up a pervert or thug on her behalf. Fuu dreaded to wonder what these new courses were all about...
"H-hah! Don't be so cocky. Sometimes the student can teach the sensei a thing or two..."
"Oh yeah?" he grinned wider now.
"Mhm!" she nodded vigorously, her ponytail bouncing. "I was locked in a brothel twice, after all. And even though I didn't do anything there, I did hear things from the courtesans, you know. Maybe I could... test them out."
He stared down at her. "You're an awfully brave little chick...sayin' stuff like that."
Even she didn't know why she was saying these things. It was like Mugen's flirtatious words coaxed out a part of her even she hadn't been aware of… It didn't help that the guttural sound of his voice made her insides melt.
"So tell me...what can a lil' virgin like you possibly teach me that I don't know about already."
He was right. This wasn't her…saying things like that. She postured harder than a criminal at court. She could never be like the experienced women he'd been with before.
But...now she knew. He never searched for those women, like he'd searched for her. This changed everything.
All Fuu had to do...was be herself.
She cupped her hand around one side of her mouth, as if planning to divulge some dirty little secret.
"...Come a little closer...and I'll tell you."
Mugen was floored. His eyes widened And hell, he really, really, really wanted to know what the heck the daring girl wanted to tell him about. Though he hesitated at first, he leaned down towards her. She moved towards his ear.
"Relax, you big jerk." she whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. "Your heart's beating so fast…"
What was she doing to him?
Mugen awaited. But rather than whisper another all too daring word, her mouth drifted away from his ear. He felt her warm breath sweep across the three faded marks on his cheek, where once, two years ago, Denkibou's claws slashed him across the face. At that time...he'd been on his way to save her from Umanousuke.
Without any further warning besides that gentle breath…
...she pressed her lips on the spot of the faded scars. Just a sweet, innocent little peck.
So different than that sloppy, drunken kiss last night. So much more like Fuu to do such a thing.
The piece of grass stuck in his mouth snapped right in two when his incisors unintentionally bit down on it. It felt like his heart stopped.
Only when she pulled away, did it start beating again.
Her eyes batted shyly. "That's called...a kiss on the cheek." she told him. "It's used to show gratitude...and affection."
In the end, she had managed to teach him something new. Out of all the women he'd been with before, not one had ever bothered to do something as simple as kiss him on the cheek before.
Quickly, Fuu shuffled away with a noticeable stumble in her steps, in an attempt to dart a safe distance from him.
"Oi!"
Of course, he moved faster, and caught her by the wrist, though she didn't face him just yet. She wanted to hide again. Flirting was not her forte at all.
"...Look at me, Fuu."
She remembered him saying those same words, weeks ago, before that abandoned stable. Then, the rain interrupted, saving her from revealing a long buried secret. When she looked up despairingly to the skies, there was not a single sign of rain, only blinding sunlight that would reveal all too much. Gradually, she turned to face him fully. Her eyes slowly met with his.
There, she saw he was frowning...but no anger resided in his stormy eyes. Though, they showed such confusion, and that same intensity of earlier.
"What the hell are you… What the fuck are we even…"
Fuu watched Mugen stumble over his words. Here she thought, she'd been the inexperienced one.
"...Are...Are we what?" she whispered.
"Just what are we doing."
Fuu's eyes danced across his features, and then averted down at the red straps of her zori sandals. "I...I don't know."
When she raised her chin, their eyes meeting again, Fuu offered another smile. "But...that's okay, isn't it? Things aren't that much different from before. At least, not for me."
Mugen opened his mouth to say something. Before he could, they heard a familiar bark in the distance.
That morning, Otachi had happily scouted ahead of them, easily picking up the scent of Mugen and Fuu.
Before Tsuru could run after her dog, Giri halted her with a hand upon her shoulder.
"Hime-sama… There is something I wish to discuss with you…"
Confused, she turned around, looking up at him with sad maroon eyes; regrettably, she remembered all the details of last night and knew it had to be about her confession. The thought of it had her head hang shamefully.
"I cannot help but feel responsible for your disappearance. If I had known your reasons, I never would have taken you so far from home."
Her eyes darted back to his again, lips falling open. "Giri…"
"If you wish to go back, and you wish to go through with the marriage, there is not much time left. Please tell me what you truly want, before it is too late."
"...Why...why are you saying this?"
His grip on her shoulder tightened. "Because I do not think you realize the severity of the actions you've committed… The Shogunate will continue to hunt you. If they discover that you left on your volition...I can only fear the punishment you would receive. For that reason, I am willing to turn myself in, to tell them I kidnapped you, so that you may return safely and be married to Lord Tsunayori, as planned."
"Please...stop it. Do not say another word."
His hand retreated back to his side.
"...Have you already forgotten the promise you made to me last night? Do you think I will stand here and listen to you suggest that you will hand yourself in, only for me to be pulled back into a future I do not want? They would execute you! Do you think I could ever allow that to happen?!"
Tsuru's journeys from the castle had truly changed her, revealing a confidence and an honesty. Giri could not help but think it had been Fuu's friendship to have been the reason for it. This only pained his heart that much more.
"Giri, I was serious when I left. While it is true...the thought of us being separated was what drove me to make the decision, it was something I had contemplated for a long time. Running away was a choice I was and continue to be certain of."
"If this is the future you truly desire...sacrifices will have to be made."
"I am willing to sacrifice anything, except you, Giri. I value your life as much as my freedom. I do not want anything to ever happen to you. And..." Tsuru paused. "If I return...I would...I fear I would have no reason left to live." Her eyes had turned glassy, but the words were firm. "Do you... Do you understand what I am saying?"
He stumbled over a breath. She meant suicide. Not until now, did Giri truly understand how passionately she desired to maintain her freedom. Giri bowed down to her.
"Yes... Yes, Hime-sama. Forgive me..."
"Please, do not ever suggest I go back again."
"If that is your command, Hime-sama."
As he rose, Tsuru gave a weak smile, and then spun on her heel to chase after Otachi. Giri stayed paces behind, watching her back.
If Tsuru was serious enough to want to take her own life, that left him with only one, grim choice to make.
Eventually, the figures of the vagrant and the waitress came into view, just strolling out of the torii gate of Takasago Shrine. A yipping Otachi had already found them moments before, circling and herding them back into their ragtag group.
At the sight of them, Tsuru excitedly broke into a sprint. Even though things had not gone well with her confession to Giri, she didn't want to tell Fuu of it. After all, she didn't feel as sad as she thought she would. Moments beside them all like this, filled her with a happiness that she'd rarely ever experienced in Edo Castle with her father and mother. Right now, Tsuru felt that they'd grown to become more than simple friends.
They were turning into family.
And when Tsuru looked at Mugen and Fuu—a tender "accidental" brush of the hand, a "rude" bump of the shoulder, just like how it was before—she realized that last night, something wonderful must have occurred between the two of them. All because of a little bit of sake... She felt just a little swell of pride, knowing she had some hand in helping.
Her and Fuu immediately struck a conversation, Tsuru subtly teasing Fuu, causing her face to redden and Mugen to snicker. All the while, Otachi happily bounced around them. Even Momo crept from Fuu's collar, gliding between the shoulders of the travelers.
From the all too short distance away, Giri watched.
His clammy hands shook until he had to tighten them into fists. It was too late.
Maybe in some other lifetime, him and Kameko would've lived happily.
Maybe in this lifetime, Mugen and Fuu could.
Alas, these fanciful possibilities were not a part of Giri's duty...nor did they align with it. For Tsuru to have any chance at a free life, there was no room left for pity, compassion or sentimentality. Traveling companions they may be now, Mugen and Fuu would soon become only a small page in their story.
No doubt, Tsuru would have to bear the pain of losing them, when that moment inevitably came. But he would make sure Tsuru would not know what he'd be forced to do on her behalf. He would have to bear the heart shattering weight of guilt...alone.
If wearing the mantle of the villain ensured his lord's future and happiness, he'd wear it, and wear it proudly.
~To Be Continued~
[A/N]: ...
Mugen's Price Chart (Manga Reference)- reference to an adorable Fuugen scene in Chapter 5 of the manga. In the scene, Fuu cries at seeing a mother and daughter. Mugen grabs Fuu's cheeks, turning Fuu's face up to look up at him. He tells her he'll "beat up whoever made her cry"…and then ruins the romantic moment by whipping out a price chart for his services: Ume Punch Course for 100 Ryo, Take Kick Course for 1000 Ryo, or a Matsu Kill Course for 1 Gazillion Ryo.
Mugen has an all new price chart drawn up...ahem.
Mugen: So girlie… about those courses… *holds up a poster with a grid *
Fuu: E-EH?!
Mugen: *points to first box* Twenty dumplings for a kiss…
Fuu: Wha-
Mugen: *points to next box* Fifty dumplings to cop a feel...
Fuu: *ears steaming*
Mugen: *points to last box* One hundred dumplings for you to put your mouth on my-
Fuu: *slaps him across the face* What am I, a prostitute?!
Mugen: Wait, what. I'm the one who gets the dumplings!
Fuu: WHAT!
Tsuru pretty much covered a LOT of what's in the author's notes here. But here's some more.
Yubi Kiri(指切り)- Pinky Promise, but literally translates to "Finger Cut Off". The song Tsuru sings is the actual rhyme. While it is common nowadays for everyone to intertwine their fingers for a promise, especially children, the idea of a pinky showing devotion has two likely origins. In the Tokugawa Era, on rare occasion, there were courtesans who would cut off their pinky fingers on their left hand as a way to show their specific devotion to a client, and may imply willingness to commit Shinju (lover's suicide). The other reason, is Yakuza practiced cutting off their pinky fingers as punishment for breaking an oath.
The Tale of Takasago (高砂)- originally titled the Aioi Matsu or the Wedded Pines/Twin Pines. This legend that takes place in Takasago tells the story of Jo and Uba, a long married elderly couple who show the auspiciousness of a healthy marriage. It is believed that the Aioi Matsu that grow intertwined on the grounds of Takasago Shrine have the Kami of Jo and Uba residing in them, and sprouted when the shrine was first established over a thousand years ago. This shrine was later dedicated to Susanoo-no-mikoto and his wife, Kushinada-hime as well.
Yup, the trees Mugen and Fuu slept under...were these same trees symbolizing a happy marriage.
Takasago Noh Play- The Noh Play about Jo and Uba takes place in the Spring time (It's Spring in this currentt chapter). This play's genre, coincidentally happens to be what is called "Mugen", which is "Supernatural Noh". It's a homonym of Mugen's name, though uses different kanji and has a different meaning than his name which is canonically both "No Illusions" and "Infinite", based on the Roman Album and Episode 18.
Susanoo-no-mikoto- Kami of the Ocean, Storms, Love and Marriage. Tsuru explains his story extensively in the chapter. Worth noting, that Susanoo's detested rival and older sibling, Amaterasu is his exact opposite and foil. Amaterasu is the Sun Kami and is said be benevolent and calm. Susanoo is the Rain Kami and said to be wild and erratic. ...Sounds a lot like Mugen and Jin. Amaterasu is also separated from her lover Tsukuyomi (similar to how Jin is separated from Shino).
I am actually convinced Mugen canonically is a symbol of Susanoo. Too many parallels can be drawn between the two.
Mugen Symbolism of Susanoo- There is a bunch. Identical Personalities. Both have a rival figure that they reconcile with. There are symbolic references to the ocean and storms in Mugen's whole backstory shown in Episode 14, as the Ryukyuan Islands are often hit by typhoons, which are tropical storms. Fuu was with the old teahouse couple when Mugen first saved her from the magistrate's son…
If you would like to see the post going into extensive detail, you can find it on my Tumblr, ryukyuan-sunflower as "Mugen: The Embodiment of Shintoism's Redemptive Delinquent, Susanoo-no Mikoto".
Mugen and Visual Symbolism of Susanoo- After making that post on Tumblr, a beloved reader of mine, Ladroone discovered more information that further cemented my theory. Susanoo can be represented by a triangle, like the triangle on Mugen's old haori. His old tsurugi sword (known as Typhoon Swell in the PS2 videogame) has a cloud motif on the hilt. And finally, the sawtooth pattern of his sword sling is a Japanese art symbol of snake scales. This could mean that Mugen's sword is in reference to Susanoo's blade, "The Sword of Gathering Clouds" that he got from killing the serpent. More proof is the fact that he broke this same sword, upon reconciling with Jin, in the same way Susanoo gave up his sword to Amaterasu to reconcile with his sibling and rival. There is also another story, where Susanoo and Amaterasu break each other's objects in a contest and both come up with a draw. COINCIDENCE? I think not.
Tensions run high. If there is another lockdown and I'm temporarily unemployed, all my energy will be going to another chapter. Thank you so much everyone, for your continued support! Favorites, Follows and Reviews are always loved. What are your thoughts on this chapter? Any favorite moment? Please let me know whatever you were thinking while or after reading!
End of Chapter 43
