Chapter 44 Dutiful Duplicity

[A/N]: Dozo! Here's another chapter! The hell year of 2020 is almost over! Hope you are all doing well!

Note- The second scene of this chapter is one last flashback for the Giri and Tsuru arc, just months before her arrival in Wakayama for her marriage.

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, Fuu, Mugen, Jin, Momo etc. But they own my heart.


Chapter 44 Dutiful Duplicity

Kiichi had only given Giri three days.

It had been more than enough days to come to a decision, yet not nearly enough to see that decision through. Already, the morning of the third day had come and went—as did the afternoon—the time slipping through his fingers. For every centimeter the sun shifted across the skies overhead, the sinking feeling in Giri's gut grew heavier.

They were near the Hinase Peninsula now. Only a few hours more until their arrival.

From the back of their party, there was little the samurai could do but contemplate his choice.

Right in front of him, strolled Fuu and Mugen. Days back in Takasago, something had changed between the normally argumentative duo, though they never said so or acknowledged it. Softer voices, shy glances and so much gentle laughter. At present, they discussed the oyster delicacies of Hinase, of how the first thing they would do when they'd get to town, was eat as many as they could afford.

"Damn girlie. Didn't think you'd be so eager."

"Eh? Why not? I'm starving and Hinase's oysters are famous!"

Mugen grinned, "Well, ya know...oysters are good for the libido."

Fuu's face turned pink, "D-Do you always think with your...your thing before your brain?"

"Well, it's kinda hard for a guy not to, when he's got such a huge-"

She punched his arm to stop him from saying another word.

"Ey, 'least I don't think with my stomach!"

"Yes you do! First your thing, then your stomach...then your brain! Actually, no, first is your giant ego! Your ego might just be bigger than your thing!"

"Well, it is the source of my ego, and I'm glad you at least admit it's big." he snickered.

Fuu was having trouble retorting, her mouth opening and closing like a fish low on oxygen.

"And hey, your ego got bigger ever since your knockers started growin' in." Mugen smirked. "Mind showin' me sometime?"

"I'll show you knockers when I knock you out with my FIST!"

Mugen dodged another of her swings, laughing. "I gotta say girlie, I'm touched ya know me so well."

"I-I'm pretty sure that to be touched, you have to have feelings first."

"Ohhhh, so that's all it takes for you ta' touch me, huh?"

"Wha-" Fuu's cheeks darkened a whole color. "Th-This is what I mean! You're always thinking with your THING!"

Despite her shriek, and another missed punch, she joined him in laughter.

They didn't know. They didn't have the slightest suspicion. Their dreamy obliviousness was a hard thing for Giri to watch. But whenever his resolve chipped, even for a second, he always cast his gaze farther up ahead, passed Mugen and Fuu, passed the guilt eating out the insides of his stomach, inch by painful inch.

There, Tsuru flung a hefty stick for her canine, who bolted off, catching it right in his maw. Just as fast, Otachi sped back to his master's side, dumping it at her feet with a wag of his tail and a playful bark. More gentle laughter.

Everyone was in such high spirits, their chatter filling up the last few days, even when they had so little to eat, and had walked such great lengths in the muck, and the hills, and the too tall weeds.

Three days was just a time too short for these simple, merry moments to end. Giri already knew the fickleness of time all too well; Kameko's death had been the first taste of it.

And now, watching Tsuru and Otachi playing in the distance, he remembered the first time he ever considered how painfully short three days was. Back then, months ago, was also the first time the samurai ever bothered to keep a secret from his lord: a secret that served Tsuru better if she never knew the truth...


The noblewoman strolled the stony paths that bordered Shinobazu Pond, her samurai trailing a step behind her. The great five story pagoda of Kan'ei-ji Temple loomed on the island centered within the pond, its long shadow falling upon the lotus covered water.

Giri hauled around a sizable box in his arms. Draped delicately over it, was a fukusa cloth made from satin silk. A skilled weaver had embroidered upon it, a flock of mandarin cranes ascending a night sky over an ocean of gold and silver thread. Despite the exquisite beauty and dedication that must have gone into the making of the textile covering, his lord paid no mind to the gift or its mystery contents.

"Hime-sama…please do not be mad at your father. He is only doing what he thinks will be best for you."

Tsuru did not answer. Though the tightening of her brow and lips said more than any word could. It was no secret that she did not want to marry, not in the slightest. But the political arrangement could not be staved off forever.

In three days' time, they would depart from the capital, to Wakayama in the west, where the Shogun's daughter would spend the remainder of her days. For that reason and that alone, the Shogun permitted Tsuru-himegimi to roam away from the grounds of Edo Castle, and explore the breadth of the city she'd lived in all her life, yet only explored on the rarest of occasions.

After all, sightseeing around the capitol city today, was not really a frivolous leisure. It was an informal goodbye...

As they drew closer to the garden pond, Giri offered the box to her again, as he had tried to earlier in the day.

"Your father wanted you to accept this gift."

"Why did he not bring it to me, himself?"

Giri knew the reason why. But he refrained from saying so and telling her the truth of the matter.

"Well...your father has been very busy these days."

This much at least, was the truth.

Tsuru's gaze fell to the grassy beds. "He always is…"

Giri tried to feign a smile for her, once again extending the silk wrapped box her way. "Would you like to open it?"

Not even bothering to take hold of the gift, Tsuru had already flitted over to the docks of Shinobazu Pond, hopping into one of the seats of the uninhabited wooden canoes.

Wearily, Giri peered down at the curious box in his arms. From within, came the sounds of clawing upon the inner walls of the box. He did not know how safe it would be to bring the surprise contents of the gift onto the boat. But there seemed to be no convincing his lord otherwise.

He joined her, and set down the unopened present upon the seat of the canoe beside him. Taking the oar in his hand, the samurai pushed them from the pier, and with slow strokes to keep the boat steady, steered them through the still waters.

Again, the box beside Giri fidgeted.

This time, Tsuru noticed.

"Did that…move?"

Giri smiled a knowing smile, "It appears your gift grows impatient."

Eyes aglow with sudden interest, Tsuru excitedly outstretched her hands toward the box, setting it upon her lap. As she pulled back the soft, satiny fukusa cloth, and lifted the lid…

Sparkling black eyes peered up at her. Out from the box, jumped a snow white puppy, tail wagging, pointy ears perked with a curiosity that matched her own.

And in that second, all of the dejectedness, the sorrow and the frustration of the last few days melted from Tsuru's troubled face. She lifted the pup in her hands, unable to contain her squeal of joy, so unbefitting of a proper lady, as he reached forward and tenderly licked her cheek.

"He's adorable!" Tsuru cooed, cradling him in her arms.

"He is a Kishu dog from Wakayama: your new home. They're protective dogs… Now, you will have another bodyguard."

"A new bodyguard! Then...I'll name him Otachi!" she chimed instantly. "He will be my friend and my protector!"

"If only your father was here to see your smile…"

"It was kind of him, picking such a wonderful gift for me… I...I will try my best to talk to him, Giri."

Just as he'd hoped for. Now, he knew he could not ever tell her the truth, for her own good. It was a secret he had to bury.

Giri rowed them further out. Their little canoe slid gently through, parting the emerald film of pond algae and flowering water lotuses that coated the surface. Resting dragonflies hovered skyward, and weary frogs plopped into the waters below to avoid the coming bow of the boat. Tsuru folded her hands on her lap, taking in the aroma of newly arrived spring with a soft inhale; it was so different from the stuffy confines of the castle throughout winter.

Little Otachi grew more and more rambunctious. Like Tsuru in Edo Castle, he'd been caged in a box for a time too long, and bounced around the narrow stretch of the canoe with reckless abandon. She tried to place him back onto the safety of her lap, but the exuberant little dog playfully dodged her reach, and then leaned his paws onto the very edge of the boat.

He lost balance. Otachi plunged into the water.

"Otachi!" Tsuru shot up.

Oar dropped, Giri wasted not a moment to dive after him.

To Tsuru's shock, and even more to her relief, the little dog resurfaced instantly, all on his own, kicking back his legs and taking leisurely strokes. She grabbed the rim of the boat, peering down into the depths for any sign of her bodyguard, but only saw her own worry stricken expression staring back. Bubbles rose to the surface.

A moment later, Giri popped up from the water next.

"Where is-!"

When he turned to his left, he saw how happily Otachi swam across the pond without a care in the world.

He shook his head in a mix of relief and frustration. "A natural born swimmer, I see."

"I-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have let go of him… It's all my fault…"

"We were lucky today… You will have to take good care of him from here on out."

Tsuru nodded. Giri swam closer, and grabbed Otachi by the scruff of his neck, and gently placed him back into the confines of the boat. Inside, the unhappy pup shook off his fur, splashing Tsuru with a good amount of the droplets, as if a punishment for his fun being spoiled.

"Do you think you can row the boat back to shore?" Giri asked from the water.

"Alone?"

"It is not likely I can get back into the boat without capsizing it."

Tsuru grabbed the oar, heavy in her dainty hands. "Um...how do I-"

"You saw how I pushed us through the water using the oar, yes? Just repeat my motion as best you can, and I'll push the boat from the back."

She attempted to paddle...only cutting through the water as if the oar was a dull knife crudely slicing fish. Though it was hard, Giri refrained from laughing at the adorably pathetic way of which she whacked it around, not wanting to discourage her from the task.

"You have to turn it. If you feel no resistance, the boat will not move. ...Think of it like a kite catching wind. The flat side of the oar catches the water."

It was not often that she was given tasks to do on her own. Whether it was Giri or her many handmaidens, most activities were taken care of for her, rather than by her. Now, with the newfound responsibility of a dog, and rowing the boat, Tsuru, for the first time, felt she was given the chance to grow up, if only a little. Tsuru, while feeling awfully helpless, did not want to embarrass herself further.

She recalled how he had dipped his arm down and back as he rowed, propelling the boat forward. She mimicked his maneuvers, and while she thought the manual labor was strenuous, and she was not nearly as efficient as her attendant was in doing so, Tsuru eventually got the hang of it. However, steering and turning the boat was a different story...

"Switch the oar to the other side."

She did so.

Faster than she'd expected, they neared the pier. But Tsuru did not ease up in her paddling, and soon enough, its nose crashed into the nearby shore, tangling into the weeds bordering the pond.

Chuckling, Giri hopped back in to guide the beached boat to its proper landing. When they were docked, he extended his hand, helping his princess onto the pier. Otachi hopped out alongside them. Giri wrung out his baggy hakama pants of the excess water.

Tsuru stared up at him, laughing into her hand. "You look like a kappa."

His thick eyebrows furrowed at the outlandish comment. Tsuru leaned closer, pulling bits of sticky plant life tangled through the pointy hairs of his trimmed down black beard. Embarrassed, he swept his hand through his facial hair to rid himself of any other unseemly algae clinging to his face.

"Oh, there's a…"

A second time, Tsuru held back a laugh. Her hand pulled off another plant convincingly centered on the crown of his head, barely propped against his loosening topknot.

"A lotus pad."

The two shared laughter together. As they departed the park grounds, Tsuru took hold of Otachi in her arms, paying no mind that the rowdy, squirming puppy was wet and muddy, and stained her silk kimono. She looked back at the pond of Shinobazu, and the great Buddhist temple of Benzaiten. She wondered if the goddess watched her now.

"Only three days until I am to leave Edo forever…"

This time, Tsuru did not frown as she said these words. She looked back up at Giri with a smile.

"With you and Otachi there with me...I suppose it will not be so bad!"


How things had changed. How plans had changed. It was a funny thing, how only one simple decision could completely alter the course of one's life.

Giri continued to watch in silence.

In the grove up ahead, Tsuru and Otachi frolicked among the camellia trees. Thousands of the flower heads had already fallen from the branches, carpeting the soil in a tide of red. Otachi bumped her with his snout, and then charged away, the young girl giggling as she chased after him. With every step and bound, their feet and paws kicked up the flower petals. All the while, she sang Lullaby of Takeda, finally having memorized every word, now doubt because of Fuu's help.

From the moment she'd first been given the dog, to now, Otachi had grown a fearsome size. He was protective of her, and loyal, just as Giri had hoped for back then.

To this day, he had not told her the truth; Otachi had not been a gift from Tsuru's father, Shogun Tsunayoshi. Not at all.

To celebrate his daughter's engagement to the young Lord of Wakayama, the Shogun had prepared only the finest dowry: silver baubles, priceless gowns, exotic spices from the mainland. But Giri knew that it was not inanimate objects that Tsuru needed, nor desired. It was simply a friend.

That was why Otachi had been a gift from him. While he hadn't been allowed to travel out of Edo, he'd asked Kiichi to head to Wakayama in his stead, and purchase the dog on his behalf. Giri had wanted to give her one reason to not resent her father for the arranged marriage.

Now...she'd made new friends: Fuu and Mugen. Seeing them all like this, so happy, only made his decision that much harder to bear.

But it was a necessary evil. Giri knew that. He forced himself to know it, kept himself awake the last three nights turning over the thought, and reinforcing it.

On the footpath, Fuu looked back once, easily taking notice of the middle aged samurai's reticence, and the way of which he lagged behind them. She slowed her own pace, until they were side by side.

"Is everything alright, Giri-san?"

He looked over to Fuu, "My lord's birthday approaches."

"Oh! Were you planning on getting Tsuru something?"

"I have a favor to ask...concerning that."

Fuu's head tilted curiously.

"After we make camp, I intend to go into Hinase alone, as I do not want her to see the gift I wish to get her… But, loathe as I am to admit it, I'm uncertain what a girl her age would like."

"Can I come too? I'd love to help pick something out!"

"Well, we would need Mugen to stay behind and watch over her." Giri said.

Without a moment of hesitance, Fuu skipped back to her bodyguard ambling lazily ahead of them. Pinching her fingers around his haori, she relentlessly hauled him back to Giri's side, despite his confusion and more than a few grouses of annoyance.

"The hell?!"

"I need a favor! Please!" Fuu pressed her hands together.

Mugen squinted down at her.

"After we find a place to sleep...Giri and I are gonna head into Hinase before the markets close! Can you stay behind to watch over Tsuru?" she whispered.

"Why can't we just come with ya?"

"Well, Tsuru's birthday is coming up and we wanted to pick out a surprise for her!"

Never one to miss the chance to get under the oh so proper samurai's skin, Mugen sent a lascivious smirk Giri's way.

"Ooooh, so ya trust me alone with your princess, eh?"

Giri's shoulders stiffened at the comment. "Regrettably...yes, I do. You're surprisingly not as depraved as you look."

Mugen's bottom lip furled, "The fuck's that supposed to mean, jack?"

Fuu segued between them, "Please, just this one favor, Mugen? I wanna help pick out the perfect surprise for her!"

Already, Mugen was painfully familiar with how serious Fuu took weird formal customs like gift giving, and especially birthdays… After all, he quickly reminded himself how she went far out of her way just to get the magatama bead for him in autumn—getting thrown into a brothel in the process, and subsequently burning down the whole place… Instinctively, Mugen raised his fingers up, almost touching the gift hanging from the prayer beads. Just in time, he caught himself, before he made the disgustingly sentimental gesture. Instead, he nonchalantly scratched this neck, as if the thought hadn't even remotely crossed his mind. Then, twice, he flapped his hand dismissively at her.

"Fine fine." he grunted. "Bring back somethin' ta' eat then, would ya? Some of those oyster things you were talkin' about, or whatever."

She beamed. Then, Fuu happily skipped past the two men to Tsuru's side, and joined in the singing of Lullaby of Takeda. As a breeze rolled in, the branches overhead wept tears of withering camellia heads, snapped from their stems. Kneeling down, Fuu scooped up two of the fallen flowers in her fingers, and slipped the delicate scarlet blossoms in the fringed strands of Tsuru's jet black hair. The two young women giggled together and then continued on with their chorus.

"How can I be happy when Bon Festival is here?"

"When I have no kimono or sash to wear."

"This child continues to cry, and is so mean to me,"

"As I grow thinner by the day."

"I would quickly quit here and go back,"

"To my parents' humble home over there."

"Man that song is a mood killer." Mugen grunted. "Don't know how they can sing it so lightly."

"Perhaps we can only understand what the greatest joy in our life really is, when we come face to face with our greatest sorrows…"

Mugen glanced Giri's way, with a small "Hah?"

The stoic samurai had already passed him by, saying not another word. A quiet returned as the two warriors walked on, watching as the girls and the dog danced playfully through the grove of fallen camellias.


Deep in the forest, the group had found a long abandoned woodcutters' lodge. It was a rickety worn down cabin, barely a roof over it, as the splintered wood overhead caved in, in a corner. Moss and creeping fungi had already grown in the cracks of the walls and floorboards. Like every other unseemly place they found refuge in, it sufficed. Just as Tsuru had begun to inspect the dusty irori fire pit, Fuu had hopped back to her feet.

"We're just gonna head into town for some supplies. Can you two stay behind and set up a fire?"

Tsuru's head rose. "Just us?" She looked to Giri, confused that he would allow this, when he'd always been so protective

He merely offered her a gentle nod.

"Yeah!" Fuu chimed. "We won't be long! I wanted to help Giri shop, and we may as well make the best of our time before it gets too dark!" She strutted to Tsuru, pulling her tanto from her kimono. "And just to be safe, you can take this."

Carefully, Tsuru took hold of the pink blossom blade in her hands as if it were glass, though her eyes were more drawn to the charms suspended from it by a red string, than by the sheathe itself. Her pasty fingers fiddled with the dog, cat and skull charms, and then the many dice.

"These charms are so cute!"

"You like them?"

Tsuru nodded. "Very much!"

A secret smile formed on Fuu's face; some type of ornamental charm could make for the perfect present for her, easy to carry or wear, and likely not above their means. Though of course, she knew Giri would have no expense spared.

Tsuru pushed the blade back towards Fuu. "I-I'm sure this isn't necessary! Mugen will surely protect me if anything happens."

"Well, it's Mugen I'm worried about. Don't be afraid to use this on him if he's a pervert! Show him the Ultimate Maiden Swordplay of Certain Death!"

Despite saying this, she knew Mugen well enough that he would not only safeguard her on Giri's behalf, he wouldn't try anything on Tsuru either. Giri's protectiveness was no secret to any of them, so she'd loaned the dagger to Tsuru more to alleviate his fears than her own. Always safer to be armed, than not.

But Mugen didn't know any of this reasoning. Her statements had him snarling.

Fuu shuffled over to Otachi, scratching his scalp. "Don't let Mugen try anything on Tsuru, okay boy?"

The white dog tilted his head with a whine.

Just as Fuu made it back to the doorway, a tattooed arm shot in front of her. Leaned on one side of the door frame, Mugen stood there, barring her passage out of the shack.

"Don't let her try anythin' on Giri." he parroted Fuu's words, the insinuation dripping with sarcasm.

It took a moment for Fuu to realize who Mugen was talking to. Momo, perched on Fuu's shoulder, squeaked back at him.

It was clear that Mugen poked fun at her...but the unexpected possessiveness of it, the tiny little possible tinge of jealousy and concern, had Fuu's face heating.

"A-as if I would!"

"I don't know…" He leaned down closer to her face, rubbing his stubble in mock contemplation with his free hand. His other hand and arm however, still obstructed the way out. "Ya do seem to have a thing for tight assed guys who know their way 'round usin' a sword."

Outside the doorway, Giri closed his eyes. "I will assume that is a compliment." He walked away from the shack.

"Don't encourage him, Giri-san!" Fuu huffed, and then leaned up on her toes, far closer to his face than Mugen expected of her. "For your info, I never liked tight assed guys who can handle their swords."

Sticking out her tongue, she ducked under his arm, and then stepped out into the open air, tailing after Giri. Mugen watched, still leaned against the doorframe.

Side by side like that, with their backs turned...Fuu did look like she walked beside Jin. Mugen only realized now, how in the past, that had been an infrequent sight. Whenever they'd been on the road together, she barely clung to Jin's side, as the quiet samurai more often led the way or trailed behind them.

Instead, Fuu talked to him, whined to him, argued with him, all while the samurai sighed and refused to intervene.

Mugen suddenly was left wondering. He wondered if back then, Jin had long since known...

Before the strange thought had a chance to stew in his mind, Fuu suddenly whirled around again, sending him one last shy smile.

"Regrettably, my type happens to be loud, belligerent jerks who can handle their swords."

Mugen's mouth fell open. Blushing, Fuu spun back on her heel.

"We won't be gone long!" she shot over her shoulder.

"Hold up… Regrettawhat?!"

But Fuu and Giri were too far away now. Mugen wished he could rid himself of the stupid grin he wore. He muttered a quiet "That sly little bitch" under his breath, though even when he said it, he still failed to remember how to frown.

In the corner of the cabin, Tsuru giggled.


It occurred to Fuu during their walk to Hinase, that this was the very first time in these last weeks that she'd spent time completely alone with Giri. While she'd said notably more words than he did during the trek, she thought it had been pleasant.

Lit by the gloomy rays of twilight, the town still bustled as if it were midday. They soon found themselves absorbed into the throngs flooding the lanes, with more newcomers filling in behind them. Even as the sun steadily slinked away, voices grew even rowdier, more energetic, as boasting shopkeepers tried to make last sales before they'd close up, and just as impassioned customers negotiated their way into the best deals they could manage.

At some point during their purveying, Giri drifted away from Fuu.

Despite being a small, seaside town, the markets were well stocked. There was a rustic vibe to the stalls. Ceramic wares of earthy hues—summer oranges, deep bronzes, and volcanic browns—filled the stands, all of varying sizes and no two identically the same. Masterful potters, hands calloused and weathered, preached of their craftsmanship, a pride in their work, whether it be usable jugs and cups, or vases merely for decoration. An odor of earth, and sand, and the sweat that went into making the merchandise hung through the lanes, between every other stall. A pungent smell indeed, yet somehow charming in its honesty. Once, Fuu had heard of Bizen's legendary pottery somewhere—probably from one of Jin's rare monologues on their old journey.

A young girl, a skinny twig of a thing, barely thirteen, puffed out her chest as she haggled a potter for a cheaper price on a flower vase. It was a gift, the young girl claimed—a gift for her mother. But the shopkeeper would go no lower than fifty mon. With how persistently she demanded it, it must have been a gift indeed, but one that she likely could not afford.

"Forty mon, take it or leave it, old man!" the girl shot, folding her arms.

Despite her bold words, Fuu saw the desperation in her eyes; the want...no, the need to buy it. It seemed the shopkeeper did too, and wanted those extra ten coins.

"Are you kidding? No deal."

She stamped her foot, "Quit being so stingy!"

Fuu strutted over, hands swaying.

"A beautiful pot…" she said to the shopkeeper. "I'll buy it for thirty mon."

"Th-thirty?! That's even less than what this brat is offering!"

The young girl snarled.

Fuu clicked her tongue, "It's definitely of fine craftsmanship. But don't you think it's a bit...unoriginal?"

"What do you mean?!"

"Almost all of your merchandise has a similar design. Now look over there." She pointed two stalls down. "That merchant's selling an assortment of uniquely shaped vases for only 5 mon more than yours. I'd call yourself lucky being able to sell at thirty mon...let alone forty."

"I'm not gonna stoop so low to cut my prices just because some little-"

"Oh please. I can tell by your stock that you've barely sold anything today! Your wife at home is gonna be pretty pissed off that you're bringing home chump change. And to think… you could've gone home with thirty more mon…"

The color drained from the merchant's face.

Fuu lifted the vase, examining its round curves and its thin neck. "And now that I look at it...isn't the rim a little uneven?

"Wha-That's the style!

"Style?" Fuu scoffed. "I guess if you want to call lazy a style. Aren't you supposed to be an artisan?!"

Dozens of heads swiveled at the sound of Fuu's voice, louder than the beckoning merchants, shriller than the haggling customers.

"Alright alright! Lower your damn voice. Here, I'll sell it to you for forty mon, you little swindler."

Fuu sighed, raising her hands, palms up, by her shoulders. "No deal."

But the little girl jumped forward, just as Fuu planned.

"I'll take it!"

Muttering many profanities, the old potter handed the young girl the vase.

"Thanks old man! Guess you're not as stingy as I thought! I'm gonna put flowers in it for my mom!"

To the fuming potter's surprise, several eavesdroppers heard the child's words of praise, and flitted from the market lane, examining his wares, and inquiring if perchance all of his vases were forty mon. In moments, five more clay pots left his shelves, and his grumbles of annoyance turned into humble bows to all of his newly acquired customers.

The girl happily clutched the flowerpot and smiled Fuu's way. Fuu merely winked, and then headed off to examine more of the markets.

From a nearby stall, Giri finished his own purchases, and saw the exchange. Fuu aiding a child reminded him much of Tsuru offering gold to a frowzy little girl in the Fushimi slums, a month ago. But Fuu's lessons in bartering were more useful, more valuable, helping the child to survive a lifetime of poverty, rather than providing a temporary fix. Fuu was not only a kind woman, but a resourceful one...a rare gem in this cold world.

His hands shook around the goods he bought, as he stuffed them into a burlap bag.

Regrouping with her, he trailed after Fuu as she excitedly pointed to a stand selling smaller wares than of the Bizen pottery. Netsuke jewelry decorated the tables. Leather chords bore clay charms of little tiny animals and hairpins possessed blossoms carved from wood. Fuu looked them over. Most of the netsuke were glazed over by lacquer polish. Others were affixed with multicolored gemstones.

A sunflower hair ornament caught her eye. Brighter than the duller, earthier tones of the other items, the orange dusklight reflected in its glossy golden petals.

She stared down at the corsage. The hair clip could be placed on the side of one's bangs and it had her thinking how pretty Tsuru looked earlier, with the camellias. Giri came up beside her.

"A sunflower?"

"I think sunflowers are hopeful flowers." Fuu said. "No matter what, they always face the sun, looking forward to tomorrow and what it brings."

"Mugen once told me that your father was known as the samurai who smells of sunflowers."

"Yeah… He used to plant sunflowers in his travels. And we had a sunflower field in Uji, long ago."

It matched Tsuru's yellow kimono, and would look beautiful in her newly cut hair. But Fuu knew that sentimentality played a far bigger role in why she wanted to get it for the younger woman. Eventually, her and Tsuru would have to one day bid farewell to each other, when they drew closer to their destination. Her and Mugen would continue west to Hiroshima, while Giri and Tsuru would turn south. It was only a matter of time before that day came.

"Maybe I'm being a little selfish...but…" Fuu shyly scratched her nose. "If you got her this for her birthday...I guess it would be a way for Tsuru to remember me, when we have to part ways someday."

Giri stared down at Fuu. Instantly, he dug into his wallet case, pulling out a handful of brass mon coins to give to the shopkeeper.

"This one will do.

Fuu smiled brightly, taking hold of the floral charm. Already, she could imagine how she'd style Tsuru's hair next, so that the sunflower kanzashi would stand out, resplendently complimenting her cheerful yellow attire.


In the darkening cabin, Mugen and Tsuru had put together a homely fire. Never before had the two been left alone before. He'd already expected them to share little words, as a woman like Tsuru was more opposite to a man like him, than Jin had been. He was more than content with the peace and quiet. She was a shy girl, unlike Fuu, who had the need to squawk on and on about everything from the weather, to how hungry she was.

No, it was not the quiet of being alone with Tsuru that had bothered Mugen; it had been how comfortable Tsuru had gotten, unguarded and at ease, despite being alone with him, save for the company of her dog. Already, she'd untucked her fat coin purse from her kimono, no doubt packed with gold, and placed it on the floor. The tanto Fuu loaned her also sat too far from her reach. Then, she'd pulled out a small book of one of her little stories she liked so much, and busied herself with reading it, paying no heed to the fact she'd left a large sum of money unattended. Mugen's kanji was still rough, but he'd managed to translate the tale as "Urashima Taro: The Fisher Lad".

"Gettin' awfully comfortable ain't ya?"

She glanced up from the engrossing story, "What do you mean?"

"Prim and proper lady like you should be keepin' her guard up, is all I'm sayin'." Mugen yawned.

"I am sure I have nothing to fear." she smiled, and then turned back to the story without batting an eye.

Something about it made Mugen fold his arms. Maybe it reminded him of a younger version of Fuu, so relaxed around two grown men—and killers—so easily trusting of people. If her own bodyguard wouldn't do it, Mugen figured he had to be the one to teach Tsuru a valuable lesson about life.

While the noblewoman continued reading, Mugen got up. When he was close enough to her, he leaned down, and snatched her coin purse right up off the floor. Tsuru finally looked up, not having a moment to react to it. By the drawstring, Mugen spun it around his pointer finger and grinned down at her.

But she didn't look angry at all. "Did you need to buy something?"

His grin faded, "Like I said, you're gettin' too comfortable!"

She still looked confused.

Mugen suddenly remembered he'd done the same thing in Kyoto: snatched a coin purse from Fuu, and ran off to a brothel. He remembered Fuu's confusion then, and then her look of betrayal… Getting quickly disgusted by the memory of it, Mugen tossed the change purse back at Tsuru. She missed catching it with her hands. But she collected the spilled coins.

Sighing, he leaned against the wall with his lanky legs spread out. He cracked his toes, then his tattooed ankles, and clasped his fingers over his stomach. "No matter what people seem like...don't trust 'em so easy. Always keep your damn guard up. "

Tsuru smiled at him from the other side of the dingy shack. "Just because you have bothered to tell me this...shows how trustworthy you really are, Mugen-san."

He grunted. He failed in his lesson.

"May I be honest with you, Mugen-san?"

"Worried you're gonna hurt my tender lil' sensitive heart?" he snorted.

"Please forgive me… It is just...the truth is…" Tsuru looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes. "If not for Fuu, I would have been terrified of you."

Such a thing was to be expected. He knew that well-to-do girls ought to be scared of him, taught by their fathers and brothers to avoid guys like him at all costs, and for good reason! Maybe that was why Fuu always trumped his understanding, bossing him around and dragging him wherever she wanted. Even when they first met, she'd been a feisty, insane thing, not knowing when to hold her tongue. In that way, he realized how alike she was to him.

Since day one, Fuu, despite being a kind and innocent girl, had never been afraid.

"My whole life, I had always been taught to avoid people like you, especially ones with prison tattoos…and bearing a weapon, even though you are not of samurai class. You talk so brashly, and there's an intensity in your eyes that I had never seen before. I would have been too scared to even say a word to you. But Fuu...she is so compassionate, so sweet, and yet...she trusts you, an ex-criminal, more than anyone in the world."

Wasn't that the truth.

Mugen wanted to laugh. But he was having a hard time with it.

"Maybe she's the fool, eh?"

"No. She's...she's wonderful. She knows people's hearts, always trying to find the best in them. And I think with you...she saw something that no one else had seen before."

Tsuru finally looked up at him, the smile on her face having him quirk his brow. He thought Tsuru was a strange girl. Almost as strange as Fuu.

"I am so happy to have met the both of you." she said.

"Still don't know why you chose this. Coulda' been livin' the high life. Most people would kill ta' have the life you lived."

"...But you and Fuu aren't like that, are you. You both value your freedom."

"I don't like handouts. Would rather be starvin' than be fed like a pet."

Tsuru nodded, "A pampered life was the only one I ever knew. But still, I did not want to marry someone I did not love… And I did not want to be separated from Giri… Perhaps it truly was a naive, selfish decision. But it had been the first decision I ever made for myself."

"When ya make a decision like that, ya gotta own up to it. Sometimes, there ain't no goin' back. Life ain't gonna be easy for ya."

"I know… I have made my peace with that. And, if not for meeting you and Fuu, perhaps I would have been scared, or would have regretted my decision. But when I see you two, so...so...free, so content, despite all the struggles you have to face…it makes me feel brave. I want to be strong like the both of you."

Mugen hadn't at all expected the conversation to get so sappy with the noblewoman. He wanted to change the subject. It had him all fidgety, and his gut hurt. This, he blamed on nothing more than hunger; he was still waiting on those oysters Fuu was supposed to buy for them. He just wanted her to hurry back already.

"Well, if you wanna live like a wanted criminal, you better start actin' like it. Hell, with the prim and proper way you talk, you ain't foolin' anyone."

"...I was always taught to speak formally and politely. I fear it is a tough habit to break..."

Mugen smirked, "I bet ya never even swore before, have ya, lady."

Tsuru shook her head.

"Start with somethin' simple… Say 'damn', at least."

Tsuru's mouth opened with surprise. She gulped and then tried. "D...dang."

"Damn! Goddamnit!" he said, the harshness in his voice having the noblewoman visibly cringe.

She attempted to repeat. "...G...God dang it!"

Even Fuu, as kind as she could be, had a mean streak in her, fierce enough to tell guys off that were twice her height and weight. He had to respect her for it… They really were more alike than he'd ever realized.

"Alright, try "Shit!"

"Sh...Sh..."

"Come on, I know ya have it in ya, somewhere!"

"...Shit..." mumbled Tsuru.

The moment the curse left her, she clasped her mouth with both her hands. Mugen however, smirked wider. He could only imagine Fuu and Giri walking in at the worst possible moment—or maybe it would've been the best moment for his amusement—shooting him fearsome glares of disapproval at the crude lesson he'd taught her.

"Louder!"

"Shit!"

"LOUDER!"

"SHIT!"

Mugen slapped his knee, snickering. "SONUVABITCH!" he roared.

"SON OF A BITCH!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

Soon, the humble shack was filled with the nonsensical string of ugly profanities bellowed by Mugen and Tsuru. The flock of birds plucking the straw from the roof for their nests, flew off at the sound of the cursing emanating from within. Otachi rested his chin on the floor, glancing between Mugen and Tsuru with what looked to be mild annoyance. His ears flattened with every new addition to their orchestra of impropriety.

"ASSHOLE!"

"FUCK!"

Soon enough, Mugen and Tsuru were not only swearing, but howling with laughter.

"Feels FUCKIN' liberatin' don't it?"

Tsuru happily nodded. "Damn straight!"


A thick fog had rolled over the lands and the sea beside them. They strolled the lonely beaches of the Hinase Peninsula. All the while, Giri's eyes kept glancing to the south, where in the distance of a mile, stood a large landmass, its forested hills jutting up from the ocean.

He'd purchased several provisions, as well as a small chochin from the markets, tying the ring of the paper lantern to his hakama belt. Fuu carried the sunflower hairpin and the tray of oysters she couldn't wait to bring back to Mugen; she'd even stopped her burning urge to try any, just so they could share the meal together.

Giri took the lead. Though they should have strolled the way back from whence they came, Fuu thought they were going an entirely different direction. She did not voice it or her concerns, as he'd often been their map bearer for the majority of their travels together, and they always made swift time with his aid.

Fuu brushed her thumb against the burnished petals of the sunflower hairpin.

"I hope she likes it…"

"Your father... This sunflower samurai... You said before that you went on a journey to find him?"

She looked up suddenly, the question an unexpected one. Slowly, she nodded.

"So your father abandoned you…"

It was the first time Giri had ever bothered to query any interest in her past. Again, Fuu nodded with a quiet noise of affirmation, though this time her gaze fell to the broken shells scattered over the flaxen beaches.

"Do you resent your father for the choice he made?" he asked.

"In truth I...I hated my father. I wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of him. All my life, my mother told me he was dead. But when I was fourteen, she told me he was still alive. All those years, it was so hard without him with such little money...with no one to depend on, especially when my mother grew so ill."

"Your mother died of illness?"

"Yes…"

Fuu thought of the girl in the market, trying so hard to purchase a gift for her mother. Before, such a memory would have brought her to tears. Now, she only smiled sadly to herself.

Giri thought of Kameko, of the children he could have sired with her, and of the time, short as it would have been, that they could have been together.

He wished he did not think of it at all.

Fuu continued, "But I understand now, why my father had to make that decision. He was a cryptic Christian wanted by the Shogunate, who wanted to help his fellow Christians. To have to abandon the ones he loved...to keep them safe... It was just as tough for him, as it was for us...making a decision he didn't want to make."

Giri stared at the island. His eyes clouded.

"So…while I hated him for so long, I understood his perspective. I couldn't help but forgive him. He only did what he thought would be best for my mother and I. He just wanted to keep us safe."

"I see."

As Fuu looked up, she realized Giri had stopped walking ahead of her. His hardened gaze was still set on the south, where a growing fog had mantled the outline of the nearby island on the sea. She stepped closer to the stoic samurai, her feet crunching on the wet sand.

"Is there something bothering you, Giri-san? You haven't been the same these last few days."

Giri did not answer. The last light of the sun fled.

Fuu drew closer. "Is it about Tsuru?"

He finally looked back at her at his side. "...Yes."

"I know you only put her best interests first. So, whatever it is that's bothering you, I'm sure she'll forgive you for it!"

Smiling, Fuu outstretched her hand holding the sunflower corsage. Hesitantly, Giri took hold of it, placing the gift into the pleats of his green kimono.

"Lighten up! I'm sure she'll love her present." she grinned wider. Fuu reached out her free arm, lightly smacking his shoulder.

It was good natured.

So good natured.

Still, he had barely budged. There was no hint of a smile on his face. His eyes were set so seriously.

"...Giri-san?"

To her surprise, he drew closer to her. Staring down at her, Giri gently rested a palm on her shoulder. Fuu opened her mouth to ask why he looked so pained, so troubled in this moment. She wanted to cheer him up. She wanted to reassure him, even if she didn't know what it was that had been haunting his thoughts these last three days.

Before she could speak a word, Fuu felt the sharp impact of Giri's fist.

It drove into her solar plexus. Air tore from her throat.

With a strangled gasp, the strength in her body gave way. She collapsed into his chest. Her tray of Hinase oysters fell into the sand.

Giri caught the fainting girl. For a time, as the fog fanned out across the ocean's surface, he stood there, holding her against him in the weakening grip of his arm. He closed his troubled eyes.

"...Forgive me, Fuu-san." he whispered into her hair.

From his burlap bag, he withdrew the ropes—bought in the markets—and tied the unconscious girl's wrists together behind her back. Under the cover of the mist, Giri carried her in his hands, until he found the small, unattended ferry vessel on the peninsula. Gently, he placed her into the boat beside him, and pressed the tip of the paddle into the banks to push them away from the shoreline.

He steered them towards the southern island of Kakui. All the while, his fists clenched around the wood of the oars, the tightness of his hands rivaling the clenching of his teeth.


"...You did fine work, Giri. To be honest, I feared you would reject my proposal. To think...you have captured one of the most wanted women in the country. It is quite a feat."

Fuu awoke to the ebbing and flowing hum of the waves on a rocky shore—and the voice of an unfamiliar man. The muffled sounds filtered through a thick wooden door in front of her. As she sat up, abdomen aching and likely bruised, her drowsy eyes adjusted to the darkness of the chamber. The ceiling stretched far above her and an odor of salt and fish hung thick in the air. She glanced out a barred window, her visibility clouded; that thick fog had rolled over the entire unfamiliar island.

"Spare me your praise. Just uphold your end of the bargain."

"Yes yes… But there is still the matter of the vagrant, Mugen…"

Fuu gasped. She crawled forward, using the wall to help her balance to her feet. With her hands bound, Fuu instead pounded the side of her temple against the oaken wood.

"Giri-san! What's going on?!" she yelled through the door.

But neither of the men acknowledged her voice.

"I will bring him here soon enough." Giri said.

"Ah, about that… As I said before, alive or dead matters not to the Shogunate… However, too many of the Shogun's men have already fallen to him. If you bring him here, I will attempt to dispose of him myself...but if you can bring me his head, that will be all the better."

Again, Fuu bashed her head against the door even harder, until it began to ache. "Please, don't do this! Don't listen to him!"

They still ignored her pleas.

"If anyone has the skills to slay him, I know it is you, Giri."

"...We shall see."

"What would Tsuru think, if she found out what you're doing?!" Fuu screamed. "Please, don't... Don't hurt her like this!"

On the other side of the door, the two men remained silent.

"Giri-san, I know you can hear me! Why won't you answer?! Giri-san!"

As Fuu pressed her ear to the wood, she heard footsteps recede, farther and farther away from the building she'd been thrown in. She had hoped it was the stranger who had left… Her heart only sank into her stomach, when it was not Giri's voice who spoke from the other side, but the stern voice of that unfamiliar man.

"It is precisely because of Tsuru that he must do this. It was either your freedom...or hers."

Fuu's eyes widened. She backed her face away from the door.

"I am afraid that this is the path he must take."

Again, she heard footsteps fade from the other side of the door, and knew she was left all alone. Fuu slumped to her knees, her forehead pressing into the cold wood.


Something wasn't right. Mugen jiggled his foot about, the impatience and apprehension he felt, steadily slipping into every one of his nerves. In the long hours that had passed, Tsuru also noticed the shaking of his leg, and the tapping of his fingers on the cabin floorboards. She'd since finished reading her book, neatly folding it back at her side. The little fire they'd built lit up his tensed expression, unveiling more of his thoughts than he cared to say.

"Are you worried about them?" she asked.

"They shoulda' been back hours ago."

"I'm sure Giri will take good care of her! Please...have faith in Giri, just as Fuu has faith in you."

But Mugen ignored Tsuru. After one minute too many, he jumped into his geta, and slung his European blade back over his shoulder. He darted from the shack, with Tsuru and Otachi getting up to follow after him. He'd already begun a fast pace down the forested road, the princess stumbling to keep up.

In the distance, they could see a bobbing light of a lantern, and then the silhouette running towards them.

"Mugen, Hime-sama!"

When Mugen saw it was Giri—and only Giri—growing closer, his pace doubled in speed, the clack of his clogs pounding louder on the dirt.

"Fuu…" Giri panted, as he stopped before them. "She…"

Mugen wasted no time in grabbing the samurai roughly by the collar of his gi.

"Where the fuck is she."

"She was…"

Giri glanced over to Tsuru just behind Mugen, the fear and confusion welling in her eyes. He looked down at the ground.

"Men of the shogunate captured her. They took her and boarded a boat to Kakui Island nearby…"

Mugen's face twisted with rage, his grip on Giri's clothes tightening. "You just let them take her?!"

"Forgive me, I was surrounded… I ran back here as fast as I could. There could still be time!"

Mugen shoved Giri away without another word, and had already broken into a sprint down the southern roads.

Tsuru stepped closer, her hand raised. "You're hurt!"

Giri pressed his palm onto the shallow cut on his arm.

"It's just a small cut. Hime-sama…" He approached her. "You must return to the cabin with Otachi. If I do not return...I fear…" He took the last of his gold koban coins from his kimono, placing them into her palms. It was enough to sustain a person for a year or more. "I cannot involve you in this. We will try to return with Fuu as soon as possible. But if the worst happens…"

"But Giri, I want to help!"

"Go back, Hime-sama. Do not wait more than one day. Do you understand?"

This was too sudden a change. It was true she'd learned to fend for herself, and learned many things about surviving on her own. But to suddenly be faced with the thought of losing him...

Tsuru gave a shaky nod.

Giri turned, and sprinted after Mugen.

For a full minute, Tsuru stood in the center of the road, only Otachi beside her. She spun on her heel, ready to return to the empty shack. But something tugged at her mind, causing her to glance back.

If it were her who had been captured instead, Fuu would have not sat by idly; the brave young woman would have done everything in her power to save her. She looked down at Otachi, who'd begun whining a long squeaky note.

"What should I do...Otachi."

He looked up into her eyes, and barked once.

Already, Mugen and Fuu had gone out of their way to save Otachi from the dogfighting ring, not expecting any reward whatsoever for their valiant deed. This could be her one chance to return the favor, for all the wonderful things they'd done for her, in their travels.

Casting off the last shred of hesitation she possessed, Tsuru turned back to the road Giri and Mugen left on, and found her feet carrying her after them.

The two swordsmen ran incredibly fast. Tsuru attempted with all her endurance to keep up with the tiny dots in the distance. But over time, they grew farther and farther away. Eventually, she grew so out of breath, and fell so far behind, that their red and green silhouettes illuminated by the bobbing lantern faded on the road, consumed by an encroaching fog coming in from the sea. It'd already grown so dark. Thankfully, Otachi relied on his nose and not his eyes, and led the way for her, tracking their scent easily.

Eventually, her and the dog reached the banks of the ocean. Not even a mile over the water, was the shore of Kakui Island. Through the thick wall of fog, Tsuru had just barely been able to make out the stern of the small boat carrying Mugen and Giri over the rolling body of water. Then, they once again vanished. There was no ferryman here or no servant or retainer that could take her the distance. She was so helpless after all. She didn't even know how to swim.

Tsuru fell to her knees, sinking into the cold sand.

She wanted to cry. She could do nothing to aid her friend.

Nearby, there was another unoccupied boat; Otachi had already hopped into it, and began to relentlessly bark at his crestfallen master. When she stayed slumped there, he sprinted back to her side, clamping his teeth around the sleeve of her kimono. To her surprise, she struggled back onto her feet, as he dragged her towards the fishing vessel.

She glanced up helplessly, "...What if I can't row us?"

The dog barked twice again, then whimpered, as if disappointed in her for so easily giving up. Once again, he bounded into the boat.

At present, the frothy tides were steady, from what she could see, only smoothly rolling over one another.

She had to try. Fuu would have tried.

Using the strength of her whole body, Tsuru braced against the slippery sand and pushed at the skip, further and further from the sands, even when the seawater reached up to her ankles, then her thighs. When it barely floated on the water, she jumped in beside Otachi. Taking an oar in each hand, she slowly paddled from the shore, in the direction of Kakui Island, where she hoped Fuu awaited.


When Giri rowed the boat to Kakui Island, it didn't pass Mugen's notice how the samurai's eyes drifted away from the island ahead of them. Instead, his dark eyes lingered on him when he thought Mugen wasn't looking. The short voyage to the island had been a quiet one, only the water splashing against the boat, and the oars pushing against the coming waves. Too quiet.

When they disembarked onto the rocky banks, Giri waited a beat too long for Mugen to get out. Mugen however, waited for Giri to do so first and lead the way.

"So it's here huh? You sure about that.."

"I am. They must have a larger ship docked here that will be headed to Kyushu."

Since he was young, Mugen had always relied on his gut. Living like that, saved him from death too many times than he'd be able to count. And if something hadn't been right before, it was even less right now. After what happened with Sara nearly killing Jin two years, Mugen knew there were few people in this life who he'd bother to trust. Thinking little of the request, Mugen had trusted Giri to watch over Fuu when they went to the markets of Hinase.

Now, he had come to the sad realization of what a fool he'd been in doing so.

As they traversed the rugged beaches, traipsing over the bumpy pebbles and shells, Mugen's keen eyes stayed rooted to Giri's back. Nothing passed his notice; not the peculiar gait of which the samurai walked, or the shiftiness of his eyes. There was a stiffness in his shoulders...and his hand edged all too close to the handle of his katana.

His fists were tightening, his chest pounding. But Mugen forced himself to continue watching, observing, until he could stay silent no more.

"How many guys were there." Mugen asked.

"I...I do not know. I had cut down several of the men. But the rest escaped to this island."

He said this, but Mugen had not even seen one body on the shores of the Hinase Peninsula, nor on the sands of Kakui Island. Mugen also noticed how there'd been no traces of blood on Giri at all, besides the sparse amount seeping from a shallow cut on his arm—a self inflicted injury, no doubt. It was smart of the samurai, to convince Mugen he'd been in an altercation. It however, was not convincing enough.

It had become more than clear to Mugen that Giri was not on edge because of some unseen adversary waiting to ambush them.

Giri was poised to attack him. He was leading him somewhere, and waiting. Waiting to strike.

After some time of being led along the shoreline, Mugen finally stopped in his tracks, his steel lined geta scraping harshly on the rocks of the beach.

"...You didn't want Tsuru to know, huh."

Abruptly, Giri's steps ceased as well, anchoring into the earth.

For a time, the two men stood there, the waves devouring the sand, and pulling the gritty grains back to the ocean. When Giri kept his back turned and did not answer, Mugen raised his right arm, fingers coiling around the brass handle of his bastard sword.

"She was captured, huh. Guess that part a' your story was true… How far were ya gonna take me before you hoped I'd drop my guard?"

Finally, Giri turned around. His hand already rested onto the hilt of his own sword. He only stared at Mugen from the distance of the shore.

There was a sad look in Giri's dark gaze. It disgusted Mugen.

"Tell me where she is." he demanded. "If you did anything to her-"

"She is still alive. The Shogunate wanted her alive."

Mugen's grip on his sword tightened.

"But I am afraid...that your life matters less to them."

In one concurrent motion, the two warriors slid the swords from their scabbards.

"If there were another way, I'd never wish to fight you, Mugen… But my lord's freedom is on the line. It was either Tsuru and I...or you and Fuu."

Mugen let out a quick exhale, the sound stuck between a close-mouthed laugh, and a disgusted scoff. He had heard words like this once before.


Even when he finds the tools of Sara's true trade concealed in her walking cane and shamisen, he does not tell Fuu of her betrayal. He does not tell her that Sara quite possibly killed Jin alrready.

Mugen does not tell Fuu that the Shogunate's agent awaits him on the riverbank. He does not wait for Fuu's return before he heads there alone, to put an end to the blind assassin's life. It is better Fuu does not see. Maybe she will try to stop them, to bring forth reason, when there is no room left for it. Sara's decision is certain. So is his.

One of them will die. One of them has to.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if he would have been ready to say goodbye to Fuu.

"I have nothing against you personally."

On the riverbank, Sara's eyes open. It's as if she sees through him, even when he knows she cannot see at all.

"This is the only life that is open to me. My son's life is at stake."

Under the full moon, Mugen draws his sword, blade glinting as he raises it before him.

"Show me what ya got. I wanna see if you really killed him."


"So you're just gonna swallow the lies the Shogunate fed ya, huh?" Mugen crudely hawked up a large wad of saliva and spat it onto the sand. "Guess I overestimated you…"

"This is the only chance Tsuru has of true freedom. I am sure that if you were in my predicament, you would make the same choice as I have..."

In this, Giri was mistaken; Mugen wasn't foolish enough to believe in the promises of anyone other than the ones he made himself. Even so, he knew that they were both like minded in one way: they would do what they had to do for the woman they protected.

"...Don't hold back on me, then."

The samurai smiled sadly, raising the blade. His fists squeezed tightly around the top and the bottom of the hilt.

Mugen and Giri charged at one another, the clash of their blades ringing through the forest, in time with the sharp surge of the waves against the shore.


Across the narrow strait, the roiling ocean had tugged and swayed the boat, steering Tsuru off her designated course. While she did manage to row to the bank of Kakui Island, it was far from the point of disembarking that she'd hoped for.

Despite her disorientation, Tsuru found it a small success, being able to row the whole way alone. With a wobble, she stepped out from the fishing vessel, treading onto the gritty sand. Otachi hopped out beside her, sniffing the foggy air. Tsuru withdrew Fuu's tanto from her kimono and placed the object near her dog's snout.

"Can you find her, Otachi?"

Another sniff, and Otachi meandered along the sands of the island, until eventually darting into the dark thicket beyond the shore, as if he'd caught a whiff of something. Tsuru ran after him. A white pall hung over the forests of Kakui Island, cloaking her visibility in uncertainty. In the thick of the mist, the trees around her stood out as little more than dark, knotted silhouettes. The further a distance Otachi ran ahead of Tsuru, the more the encroaching fog swallowed him up. Then, the patter of his paws hitting the softened soil faded too, until there was nothing but the sound of Tsuru's own breaths and her unsteady steps.

"W-wait!"

She stumbled upon the footpath, calling out to him desperately. The fog was so dense, so heavy, that Tsuru tasted the cold moisture in her mouth, clinging to her tongue, tinged with the flavor of saltwater. Her legs quivered. A loose root snagged on the strap of her zori. She stumbled.

As Tsuru hit the ground, her hands braced onto the dirt, scratching her palms and fingertips open, so much that blood seeped from the scraped skin. It stung tremendously. Hissing back the pain, she tried to pick herself up, only to realize how badly her whole body shook. Lost in this web of mist, Tsuru realized she had never been alone like this before in her entire life. She'd depended on everyone...could do nothing on her own. She did not know how Fuu managed this at all, at her age.

Her breaths grew unsteady, labored. She was panicking. What if she could not find Fuu. What if she could not find anyone. What if she'd stranded herself here.

Soft pads on the trail drew closer.

As she looked up, there stood Otachi, emerging from the ghostly cloak over the forest. He trotted back and licked her sore hand. Then, just as quickly, he darted ahead again.

That's right…she wasn't entirely alone. Back on her feet, she followed after him. This time, he never wandered too far ahead, always making an effort to circle back to her.

Minutes felt like they'd strained into hours. The longer Tsuru navigated the lonely island, the more she thought her soul had been set adrift in a hazy purgatory. Everything about the scenery looked the same in the dense mist as it did ten minutes before. Gnarly trees. Sharp cliffs. Winding deer paths. At one point, Otachi halted in his stride, ears upraised. His head turned one way, then another. But he did not move.

They were lost.

But this time, Tsuru took a deep breath, clenching her hands, forcing back her unease. Tsuru wanted to learn to be strong, to not give up, to persevere, just like Fuu. If she kept calm and collected, she could catch her bearings. Onward she walked, deeper into the thick vegetation, even when the trail narrowed down so much that the pointy branches pricked her shoulders and cheeks as she eased through them. The whole way through, Otachi stayed beside her.

Tsuru felt something soft brush up against her ankle. She'd almost jumped, thinking it to be a spider or a snake, until she looked down, and heard the familiar squeak. A flying squirrel peered up at her.

"Momo-san!"

A moment after his arrival, the rodent scampered ahead on the narrow deer path. Otachi broke into a sprint after Momo, with Tsuru following as fast as she could behind them. Further and further, deeper into the heart of the island, they ran.

While the scenery still blended together into an ambiguous white, Tsuru's eyes caught something through the veil: high up in the distance emanated a fiery light. Towering over the coast, a great bonfire cast a halo around the murky air. As she drew closer still, she saw this bonfire was the peak of a lighthouse, likely to prevent ships crashing into the rocky crags of Kakui Island's shore. Otachi had stopped running, tail raised, as he peered at the building from behind a refuge of scraggly bushes. The short furs along his spine bristled with unease. Momo squeaked twice, bouncing on his little haunches.

Two samurai of the Tokugawa clan—judging by the hollyhock Kamon on their clothes—guarded the entry of the lighthouse. There would be no way she could get past them like this.

Before Tsuru even had the chance to think up a plan, Otachi burst from the bushes, barreling at the two men. Before the men registered the appearance of the beast from the fog, his maw clamped down on the leg of one of the samurai. He hollered in pain, clutching his bleeding calf.

"Where the hell did that thing come from?!"

Just before the samurai drew his blade, Otachi let go of his grip and bolted away, his white coat blending in easily with the cloudy surroundings.

"Is that a wolf?!"

Once again, Otachi appeared, growling from his misty refuge. The samurai swiped their blades to attack the beastly dog, slicing through nothing more than layers of fog. Otachi stalked their moves, growling from some unseen place, charging when they least expected. Repeatedly, Otachi did this, until the men knew they could not stand by and ignore the animal.

"Kill the damn thing!"

The two guards hurried in pursuit.

In that moment of distraction, Tsuru darted to the entrance of the lighthouse. She struggled to lift the giant wooden bannister barring the door closed. Gritting her teeth, and straining her untrained muscles, Tsuru mustered all her strength to lift the massive beam. Inch by inch, she raised it. Finally, she got it high enough over the metal hooks. It fell to the ground with a thunderous rumble, just barely missing smashing her toes. She burst into the lighthouse.

In the center of the room, Fuu looked up. Her eyes shined with both surprise, and relief, at seeing the younger girl in the doorway.

"Tsuru-san! Wha-what are you doing here?!"

"Momo and Otachi helped me to find you!"

Tsuru ran behind her, using Fuu's tanto to slice through the bindings on her wrists.

"...Where...Where is Mugen...and Giri?" Fuu asked.

"They've come to the island to rescue you! I...I haven't seen them yet though. They're probably still looking!"

Tsuru smiled, and then handed Fuu her tanto.

Fuu clutched the blade to her chest.

Her heart tensed.

Tsuru didn't know.

"Tsuru-san, about Giri-"

"We must find them!" Tsuru's steady hand clasped around Fuu's trembling one.

As Tsuru tugged her to standing, and pulled her from the lighthouse, Fuu fought back tears. Though she tried to think of what to say, of how to explain, the sad words could not find form in her mouth. How could she possibly tell Tsuru the truth of Giri's betrayal, when she loved him so, when he was the person she trusted most in this world more than any other?

Fuu could do nothing but hope that they would reach them soon, and stop a fight between Mugen and Giri…before it was too late. She could only hope Mugen had not killed Giri.

She could only hope Giri had not killed Mugen.

Fuu's hand clutched tighter onto her tanto. She suddenly feared what she was truly capable of doing. She wondered if she too could betray Tsuru's trust, just as Giri had, if it meant protecting Mugen—or avenging him. Already, she'd stabbed Inuyama to save Mugen months ago...

Quickly, she shook away the dark thoughts and her welling tears, willing herself to believe that it was not yet too late. But if Tsuru had not clutched so tightly onto her hand as they ran through the suffocating mist, Fuu was certain she would have already slipped and fallen.

~To Be Continued~


[A/N]:

Shinobazu Pond (不忍池)- While it is now found in Ueno Park, Tokyo, Ueno Park was originally the site of Kan'ei-ji Temple dedicated to the Buddhist Goddess Benzaiten. This temple has a strong affiliation with the Tokugawa Shogunate, as it was built there to protect Edo Castle from attacks from the Northeast. Kan'ei-ji Temple also is the burial site of the real Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (Tsuru's father). The pond surrounds the small island where the temple is located. Shinobazu Pond has long since been portrayed in art and literature due to its romantic atmosphere, found in many ukiyo-e paintings. The lotuses that grow there are affiliated with purity.

Fukusa Cloth (袱紗)- During the Tokugawa Era, gift giving entailed placing a satin silk cover on top of a box or tray that housed the gift. These silk covers had beautiful, intricate pictures woven into them, and it was polite to examine the cloth before opening the gift. For wedding gifts, Fukusa Cloth often depicted cranes, tortoises or Jo and Uba, which all symbolize long life, marriage and prosperity.

Oysters- As Mugen said, oysters are indeed a known aphrodisiac, as they improve dopamine levels which improves libido. They are also high in zinc, which increases testosterone. Hinase was renowned for their oysters (before being merged into the larger city of Bizen) but there still is the winter Hinase Kaki Matsuri dedicated to them. There is a Japanese saying that one should eat oysters in colder months, as the oysters have more meat and a better taste then. So, since the chapter takes place in early May...thematically, Mugen and Fuu are very unlucky and didn't get to eat any (though Giri was the real cause).

Kappa (河童)- Literally means "river child" but is a Japanese demon/imp. They are usually green in color, with a turtle shell, webbed hands and feet and a water dish on their head that houses their life energy. While sometimes they are considered mischievous, and other times full on malicious, they can also be considered honorable. For example, if the water on the dish on their head is drained and a human refills it for them, it is believed the kappa will be indebted to this human for the remainder of its life.

Bizen Ware- Renowned pottery developed in the Tokugawa Era, from the Bizen Province (modern Okayama Prefecture). The Meiji Era nearly saw this form of pottery lost.

Shout out to those in the Discord server, who always give me early feedback, ideas and inspire me to post ahead of schedule. Viva la banana! XD

The next chapter and finale to the Tsuru-himegimi arc willl be out incredibly soon. I hate leaving things on such large cliffhangers. So keep an eye out! I promise it will be posted before January 1rst. Follow, Favorite and Review your thoughts if you enjoy this long story!

End of Chapter 44