Finding the Four-Eyed Samurai WITH YOU?

by Fenrir's Lockhart

A year passed since the trio parted. But even as their lives relapsed, the memories of that fateful journey never faded for Mugen or Fuu. A chance reunion in Yokosuka "forces" the duo to travel together again, to find a certain samurai. Throughout their misadventures, something is subtly but surely changing between the former waitress and pirate. Or maybe it was there all along...

50. Chapter 48 The Path to Providence

Chapter 48 The Path to Providence

[A/N]: Yoi kyuujitsu wo! Happy Holidays everyone! Here is a gift for all you lovely people to close off 2021!

Note of Interest-There are major references to Cowboy Bebop in this chapter: specifically the last dialogue between Spike and Faye. Samurai Champloo is officially considered the spiritual successor to Bebop. And I strongly believe it is largely the positive mirror to Bebop's negative. Upbeat Hiphop versus Somber Jazz. And Mugen and Fuu reference SEVERAL of Spike and Faye's most iconic scenes, but always with happier outcomes. Director Shinichiro Watanabe even subtly confirmed both Spike and Mugen's feelings for Faye and Fuu in an interview. To quote: "Spike and Mugen aren't very straightforward in expressing themselves. For example, even if there is a girl they like standing right in front of them, they don't pursue her directly. In fact, they do the opposite, they ignore her almost." Watanabe then went on to say that he believes Spike "likes Faye quite a bit". (Mugen REPEATEDLY ignores Fuu in the series. Mugen is a damn womanizer who comes on to every woman he interacts with, so this statement does not make sense unless Watanabe means Mugen isn't direct in his feelings for Fuu). More information will be heavily detailed in the ending notes.

More major developments with Mugen. To quote what lovely guest reviewer KeeblrElf said about last chapter, this new chapter is Mugen being "the most dangerous cinnamon roll ever". Couldn't phrase it better. I also want to thank KeeblrElf for providing inspiration for a paragraph of this chapter! While not identical to the "fantasy sequence" in your review, I hope that you enjoy how it is written!

I was glad to see last chapter was received positively despite its darker vibe. Hope you all enjoy the duality of both dark and light in this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, Fuu, Mugen, Jin, Momo etc. I ship Fuugen harder than Mugen can throw a fucking baseball. But unfortunately, that isn't enough qualification to own the rights to this masterpiece...

---

Chapter 48 The Path to Providence

Once her broom leaned back in the same corner she'd found it, Fuu brushed the soot from her hands, blew a strand of hair from her face, and smiled.

Three hours after sundown, she'd finished cleaning the Shinto shrine's hall of worship. It was not much to speak of, truth told. While she'd removed most of the dust and debris, and washed down the altar and the floors, there were so many holes everywhere that, on several occasions, Fuu almost fell ankle deep into the foundation of the building. And there had been nothing to use for bedding. But she hoped her efforts would make Mugen a little comfortable, or would be appreciated by whatever Kami the shrine housed...or once housed. She even plucked wildflowers growing outside and arranged them into some cracked vases on the altar table.

Despite her wakefulness, and her incessant desire to find more to do, Fuu forced herself to take a well deserved rest.

Propped against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, she waited.

Waited as the nocturnal bugs chirped. Waited as a red fox yipped and yowled somewhere outside.

By then, half of the candle flames had guttered to dying flickers. Unfamiliar shadows shifted throughout the altar room. And a more familiar uneasiness swept through her, as cold as the salt breeze that breached through the drafty, splintered walls. That cold uneasiness settled deepest in the pit of her gut.

She kept time with her heartbeats. When those heartbeats grew too quick and too numerous to count, Fuu knew what she had already suspected.

She had waited far too long for Mugen's return.

Momo had also been gone for some time, off doing whatever it was that flying squirrels did in the dead of night. For the last month, he'd been leaving more and more, taking longer to return each time. Her pet had probably gotten luckier with foraging than Mugen had. Though, she doubted he'd share.

Sighing, she looked up at the sky through the gaping holes in the ceiling that mirrored the cavernous fissures dotting the floorboards.

After too many stars counted, too many constellations deciphered, Fuu jumped back to her feet again.

She paced the room with arms folded. "He definitely wouldn't be picking a fight with those pirates… Not while he's still healing."

Then her hands balanced on her hips. "He definitely couldn't have already killed someone…"

Then her fingers scratched furiously at her scalp.

Who was she kidding? Fuu knew him better than that. He'd definitely do something dangerous!

"Dammit, Mugen!"

Two pitiful laps around the room later, and one near tumble into another hidden hole in the broken floor, and Fuu was resolved. They always rivaled each other in stubbornness, after all. Sure, he'd told her to stay put, out of a want to keep her safe. But Fuu had a keen suspicion that he hadn't listened to her at all either.

So, after blowing dust off the chochin lantern she'd found, and igniting a flame inside, Fuu set off from the sacred grounds, into gloomy darkness.

---

This was what he was built for. What he was bred for.

Steering close to the ship, Mugen used the grappling rope the pirates had left inside their skip to scale the dark hull. Naval boarding came easily as breathing, after so many years of experience. He'd just never suspected that, one day, he'd find his old pirating skills useful to sneak aboard a pirate ship.

He vaulted over the railing, landing on the main deck.

A rattling dice game, the steady shhhhk of a blade gliding along a whetstone, the lewd talk of the girl in the captain's quarters and their plans for her—all of it ceased in an instant.

"You again…"

"...Where's the cap'n?"

Seven to one. Long odds. Just how he liked them.

Their sharp eyes flickered to the red stains in his clothes and the red splashed upon his arms. Wouldn't take them more than five seconds to realize it was the blood of their dearly departed bastard of a captain. So he wasted no time.

Mugen whipped his tanto dagger. It flew across the length of the ship and lodged between the eyes of one of the archers on the aftdeck. The impact sent him plummeting down the ladder, legs and arms flopping about like a ragdoll, until he fell completely still on the floor of the main deck. A thick, black puddle pooled around his face.

Six.

The rest of the crew could only gape in horror, but Mugen bounded forward, and swung at two of the men. They barely stumbled away from the slices. The sharp rings of drawn steel echoed around him. Music to his ears.

"Should'a killed you in the bar!" screamed the pig-eyed molester, nocking an arrow.

With a hum of the bowstring, it sailed towards him, but the sea wind tore at the trajectory.

The arrowhead scraped the side of his jaw. Save for a slight tickle, Mugen didn't feel it. He swiped off the bothersome line of blood with the back of his hand and charged in grinning.

Arrow after arrow whizzed past. Into the fray, Mugen danced and dodged around them, hacking and slicing, kicking, and skidding on his geta, as he maneuvered across the length of the starboard. The damn archers had become a nuisance, but the other pirates impeded the way. Once he slid to the stern of the ship, he ripped his tanto out from the forehead of the first dead man, wiped it clean, and sheathed it at the back of his waist.

Quickly, he mounted the ladder to the aftdeck, swerving on each side of the rails during the climb to dodge the arrows shot down at him. His sword batted away those he couldn't avoid. Once Mugen hiked himself up, the second archer found himself gutted before he'd even gotten the chance to fumble for a melee weapon. Mugen planted his foot on his belly and kicked the skewered rogue off his sword and over the taffrail, who went screaming all the way down into the briny depths.

Five.

The last archer had already scrambled down the ladder, back to portside. Mugen leaped off the aftdeck in pursuit, steel enforced clogs crunching down on the head of another pirate standing below. It knocked him onto his face. But the lanky rogue nimbly rolled to safety into the center of the ship.

Mugen swung at his neck. His sword nicked into the wood of the main mast, stuck an inch too deep.

Just as the pirate popped back up behind him, Mugen crouched under the blow, and redrew his dagger. It slashed open the exposed artery at his thigh. The man crumpled down to one knee. The wound gushed fast across the deck. He moaned a dead man's song, and never rose again.

Four.

Another knife slashed at his back, and he didn't waste that invaluable second to bother pulling his sword out of the mast.

His eyes met with familiar little black pupils, burning bright with mad rage. The last of the three archers. The first man he'd almost killed in the tavern. Mugen cracked a smirk. The pig-eyed pirate's quiver had run out of arrows to pluck.

"Well," he said, twirling his beloved tanto around his fingers, and settling into a backwards grip. "Looks like I'll be findin' out if you do squeal."

The hulking pirate sneered and raised his karambit knife.

"And I'll be seein' that all the stuff about Tarama Island is a steamin' pile a' shit." snarled the swine.

He reversed his hold on the curved dagger, mirroring Mugen, and thus they began the dance of men with the intent to butcher one another. They circled each other slowly. Then, they feinted one another fast. Quick little lunges. Bluffed swings. Steps that deceived. Testing each other's reactions. Testing each other's speed.

The pirate slashed at Mugen's belly, forcing his chest to lurch forward to dodge it. But Mugen left no opening as he swiped overhead. The pirate leaned away. All the others stayed a safer distance, for now, but Mugen never let them leave his peripheral.

For a boar of a man, his opponent had good footwork. Viper quick, the crescent steel flashed around Mugen's face. Mugen bobbed and weaved under the strikes, slashing back. Forward, backward, forward. Slash, and miss. Slice, and miss.

As Mugen backstepped, his wooden clog slipped in the puddle that had drained out of the corpse at their feet. The karambit lashed out. This time, Mugen couldn't sidestep it.

The tip of the steel carved a line into his forehead. Just a graze. Still stung like hell.

Blood seeped down the shallow cut, obscuring the vision of his right eye. One of the other pirates got in his blind spot.

Mugen ducked and felt the cold rush of wind as a blade passed over him. As he rose, he shoulder tackled the unwanted interloper away. It sent the man crashing into a round wooden table that obliterated into a thousand splinters under his weight. A spiral of dice, coins and hanafuda cards sailed through the air. Bought Mugen enough time to turn to face the swine and the knife again.

But not enough time to dodge the coming blow.

The karambit drove into Mugen's shoulder.

He didn't feel much. Not at first. Too much adrenaline flowed through his veins, buried down the pain. Mugen swung again, and the bastard caught him by the wrist midblow, shoved him hard, until his back and head smashed into the ship's main mast.

Mugen saw dots. Blinking white speckles fluttered before his eyes.

The moment his body registered hitting the mast, felt the vibrations traveling through all his muscles, all his nerves, the feeling of the curved knife gouged into his flesh suddenly took hold in all its intensity.

Acute, burning, teeth grinding, swear inducing pain.

Growling, Mugen struggled to grab the pirate's arm, but his hand felt slippery with sweat and blood.

The pirate prised the knife out again, reeled it back. Mugen squirmed enough to make him miss his mark. But the strike still landed.

It carved through muscle, into the upper left of his chest. Missed his lung. Barely.

The second stab burned a hell of a lot harder than the first. He thrashed violently, yelled loud enough to deafen. It hooked in deep, dragged out a gush of blood once the swine ripped it out again. He moved for a third decisive strike—to the throat.

Mugen got a tight grip on his wrist. With all his strength, he forced the pirate's fist away, as the curved point hovered and shook at his neck, thirsty for another taste.

He could hear the other three crewmates hissing and shouting around them.

"Kill the fucker!"

"Cut his damn throat!"

"Finish it!"

But Mugen and the swine were kept at a standstill. They each had their daggers pointed at each other's throats now, held back only by their hands wrapped around each other's wrists. Muscles strained. Spit dripped from their jaws. Like starving wild dogs, they snarled at each other, sharp teeth gritted and bared. While their arms pushed, their legs entangled, too close to kick, so they scraped shins and crushed toes instead. The pig eyed pirate leaned so close, he smelled his foul, sour breath smacking him in the face. He saw every little bead of sweat prickling from his dirty pores, saw all the black nose hairs peeking from the flaring nostrils of his fat snout. What a bad way to go.

But it wouldn't be as bad as seeing Fuu crying over him again.

Gradually, Mugen felt his strength gutter out, his muscles losing the will.

The pirate's fist drew so close now, the side of his palm fell in line with Mugen's mouth. Inch by inch, the karambit edged closer, so close to Mugen's jugular, he could feel that cold press of metal on his sweat drenched skin.

The pirate's snarls turned to a deep, abrasive chuckle.

"You know what I'm gonna do after I shove this knife into yer' throat?"

Mugen didn't, couldn't answer, straining for all he was worth to push his wrist and knife away, straining to push his own knife closer to the knob of the swine's jugular.

"I'm gonna find your pretty lil' bitch." the pirate grinned, a feverish glimmer in his pin black eyes. "An' when I do, I'm gonna—"

Mugen bit down on his hand. Sunk his teeth deep enough to draw blood. Hard enough to make him flinch. Long enough for Mugen to stab the tanto into his throat.

He made a squealing, choking sort of gasp, and coughed a spatter of pink saliva onto Mugen's face. Slowly, his grip on his knife diminished. One shove and he fell backward, burbling out meaningless babbles while he clutched frantically onto his pierced throat. There was no hope of stopping the flow that fountained out of it.

Mugen spat on the swine's face.

Good fucking riddance.

Three.

His chest and shoulder ached, the two stab wounds he suffered seeping aplenty down his chest. At this point, he couldn't tell if the harsh, tangy taste in his mouth came from biting the man's hand, or happened to be rising up from his lungs.

But, in spite of all the pain, Mugen couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed that bout, far more than killing the others.

'Get treated a beast long enough, and you might as well become one.'

He circled to the other side of the mast, and with a hard clench of his teeth, ripped his sword out from the wood it had imbedded into. He sheathed his tanto. Hard to hold both now. The European sword, ever a comfortable weight, suddenly felt very heavy hefted onto his shoulder. But he ignored the dizziness in his head, and the blood soaking into his eye, and approached the last remnants of the crew.

They wasted no time to circle him.

"B-Bastard!"

One of them thought he'd have better chances facing a wounded man and charged forward, swinging and roaring.

Mugen slashed him down the middle. The man's mouth drooled blood while his eyes drooled tears, as he tripped past and crumpled face first onto the deck.

Two.

The moment Mugen's gaze locked on one of the remaining men, the pirate fell backwards, feet squeaking against the wooden planks as he shuffled away on his back and elbows. Like the dead swine, Mugen recognized this chubby one too; he'd been the other guy who threw the girl into the boat—the one who mocked her pleas for mercy.

"Wait! Just wait!" he cried, holding up his gaudily adorned hand.

One by one, he prised and twisted the rings off his fat fingers.

"Here, you want gold?! Here!"

He hurled a handful of them at Mugen. The jewels and tarnished metals rattled and rolled against the deck boards, clinking against the wooden teeth of his geta.

"You can take the fucking gold! Take all of it!"

Mugen stepped over them.

"Your weapon."

Instantly, the pirate threw an ornate sword at his feet, the blade and curved guard clanging noisily against the ship boards. His last living crewmate only watched, fingers shaking around his weapon but made no movement to intervene, or to surrender.

"T-Take anything you want!"

Mugen kicked the blade away with another screeching rattle, but never sheathed his own sword. He drew closer, shrouding the plump, whimpering pirate in his shadow.

"Wh...Why? I put down my weapon!"

"Never said I'd let ya live if ya did. Just helpin' me save a minute of my time. Thing is…what I want most…is your life."

Still, the cringing fool held out a quivering hand in front of him, though it did nothing to slow Mugen down. His trousers suddenly grew darker by a shade, and the foul smelling liquid that puddled between his spread legs indicated to Mugen that the coward had just wet himself.

"Please! Please!

The more he wheedled and pleaded, the higher his voice rose to a screechy pitch. When the women they kidnapped begged them to stop, begged for their lives, did they ever show a hint of mercy? Doubtful.

"Please, please, please." Mugen mocked.

And he slit the man's throat. Didn't so much as flinch as the blood sprayed.

One.

The last man who had watched all his crewmates slain to bits, had backed towards the railing, his sword point still raised at Mugen, even as it trembled in his grip. He must have been the youngest of the crew by some years—maybe only a teenager still, with a whole life ahead of him.

"A-Are you him?" he asked.

"Depends who him is."

"Karasu… The Ryukyuan they say is on a crusade, killin' all the pirates off in the east."

"Nope."

"Then…is this about that woman we took?! I-I didn't touch none a' the girls they captured! I swear it! I didn't touch none of 'em!"

Maybe not. But truth or lie, he'd have watched as the others did. Never moved a finger. Never left.

"I-I didn't have much a' choice! You know what it's like, don't you?! You have to do what you have to, to survive!"

Mugen stopped. Stared.

He'd been in these crews. He'd worked beside people like this. How many villages and ships had they plundered? How many people had they slaughtered? How many times had he watched as they committed the worst kinds of atrocities and he'd done nothing to stop it?

"Me and you…maybe we ain't much different, huh?!" the pirate blathered on. "So, just let me walk away and I'll never hurt anyone ever again!"

There was some possibility, tiny as it might be, that this young man spoke earnestly. After all, despite all the odds stacked against him, Mugen had walked away from such a life long ago. Escaped that hellhole. Escaped Mukuro's gang. Tried to make something better of his life.

Found something worth fighting for.

…But was there not a tithe to pay for one's sins?

Someday, Mugen knew he might have to pay too. Right now wasn't his time though. And right now, that was all the difference between them that he needed.

He closed in, blade ready. The hopeful, desperate eyes of the young pirate darkened over. He turned to jump over the side of the ship. But Mugen moved faster. He grabbed him by the collar. Stabbed him right through the back. His sword pierced all the way through, up to the cross guard, the length of the blade poking out of his chest. Blood trickled down the fuller of the European steel, down the bronze hilt, across his tightly clenched knuckles.

"...Maybe you're tellin' the truth." Mugen whispered, as the air fled the pirate's lungs in one long gasp. "And maybe me an' you ain't much different. But we all gotta pay 'fer our past sooner or later."

The man could make no reply but a wheeze.

"Who knows." Mugen said, sliding his sword back out. "...When it's my time, maybe we'll cross paths in the same corner a' Hell."

Once that last corpse sagged from his hold, crumpling onto the deck, he flicked his blade clean and sheathed it. He wasted no more time with the dead.

Mugen barged, good shoulder first, into the captain's quarters, breathing heavily, veins surging with adrenaline and pounding in his eardrums. That heady battle high had barely waned at all.

A muddy smear of piss yellow light dyed the room, spilled out of moth eaten paper lamps that hung from cords of twisted rigging. Dingy as it was, Mugen had to squint to see past the deep shadows of the disgustingly showy cabin. It was a crowded space, filled to abundance with all its robbed cargo and pillaged memorabilia, and with a stagnated odor that reeked of old sweat.

The floorboards creaked behind him, and he knew instantly that their hostage had to be there. Once he turned, he could just make out her frail, shivering silhouette, hands behind her back. He approached her fast, drawing his tanto to undo the binds they must have put her in.

An arm's length away, he didn't see another blade in the dark. Not until it was too close, and too late.

He felt it though. Felt it lodge deep into the side of his gut.

It was not a hot, burning pain like the other two stabs he'd suffered.

No, this one was like a shard of ice. A cold chill running through his stomach.

Blood oozed off the dagger. Spots of it fell onto the floor between them, drip after drip.

No, not a dagger. Rather, it'd been a shoddy excuse for a weapon: a long fragment of pottery broken off from one of the pirates' looted vases. But it hit deep.

His hand shot out instantly, and grabbed onto the wrist that wielded the ceramic tooth stuck under his ribs. He squeezed on that wrist, squeezed tight enough to bruise. Thin. Bony. Breakable.

The girl's wrist.

She squeaked once he caught and crushed her wrist in his fist, and thrashed to escape the hold. He didn't let go.

"You...fucking...bitch." he growled, low and deep.

Just like the monsters she feared.

In that second, a darker corner of his mind, the part that knew he'd just been stabbed, wanted to inflict pain on this newfound enemy. A payback. An eye for an eye—and then some more. That had been his way, all his life.

He still had his tanto in his left hand.

But, once he saw the panic and fear flashing in the watery eyes staring up at him, once he saw his own reflection there, dark and monstrous, the thought drifted away as quickly as it'd arrived. She was only a slip of a girl, barely a woman, acting in what she thought to be self defense.

As his adrenaline diminished, his cognition returned. But so did the pain. No longer icy. White hot, coursing through the wound.

He roughly shoved her away from him. The girl skidded backwards and collapsed on the floor, tears slipping from her welling eyes. Mugen clutched onto the offending piece of pottery, and ripped it out of his abdomen. Bad decision. More blood gushed out on the floor.

"FUCK."

He whipped it against the nearest wall, fracturing it into a dozen bloody pieces. The girl flinched. She backed away on her hands and feet, until her back hit the wall, and a little, broken mewl slipped out of her.

Instead of approaching, as she had seemed to expect, he only stood in the middle of the cabin room, a hand pressed to the side of his stomach, a growing spot of red soaking through his once white shirt and splashing warm against his palm.

"Get outta here."

The sniffling girl only stared up at him, frozen and confused, and still just as afraid as ever. He'd seen that look before, said these words before, but under very different circumstances.

"I said GO!"

With a stumble, she picked herself up and darted out of the cabin. Briefly, on the deck of the ship, she stopped and took in the massacre: all the corpses sprawled about, the decks slickened with blood that shined in the moonlight. Maybe that scared her even more. She never looked back to him. Never thanked him. She did not understand. She only continued to run, heels slipping in the bloody puddles.

Smartly, the girl had slid down into one of the empty skips and unfastened it from the hull on her own. From the starboard, Mugen watched her paddle out for shore, and as the burning aches in his chest and stomach continued to spread, he cursed himself a fool that he didn't have her row him back too. At least these new wounds overshadowed the less recent cuts and bruises he'd suffered fighting Giri. That was about the best thing that came of it. Or the only good thing.

He took off his samue jacket, and wrapped it tight around his torso in the hope that it might hinder the bleeding. Maybe she did graze an organ. Because it barely stopped, soaking right through the cloth.

Blundering around the ship like a drunkard, Mugen collected the few baubles from the corpses, and a bottle of sake, tying it all up in a small sack. He tossed his spoils down into the skip he arrived in, and leapt down from the railing. As he landed on his feet, the last of his strength fled completely. He lost balance, lurched onto his side and toppled right on the worst of the wounds.

"Shit."

That stale, coppery taste flooded his mouth again, and he leaned over the boat, and spat out a whole mouthful of red into the sea. He licked his teeth clean, curled his tongue and spat again. The rusty tang still clung to the roof of his mouth. Couldn't get rid of it.

Once he'd unfastened his boat from the ship, his hands lost their strength too. Mugen rolled onto his back, one palm clasped on his stomach, the other limp at his side. He stared up at the dark night sky and all its flickering stars.

Fuck, but he was tired. Didn't feel much like moving anymore. And he was cold. Every ocean breeze ran a chill through his clammy skin that felt thinner than paper.

Well, he never expected to pay his tithe quite like this. But maybe there was some karma to this. Destiny was one cruel bitch, after all.

"...Always knew playin' the hero was overrated shit."

Overrated. But he had been playing that role for a long time, all the same. Turned out it suited him far better than being a pirate had. Who would have thought? Mukuro and Koza surely never did.

Ever relentless, the ocean waves rocked the shuddering boat he laid in, uncomfortably jostling his battle worn body, and tossing salt into his open wounds. One last way to spite him. How he fucking hated the goddamn sea.

But Fuu never did.

She loved the sea.

No matter how cruel, or unpredictable, or painful it could be. Maybe she just had a habit of loving the wrong things.

Or maybe she saw the best in what no one else could.

As his vision blurred and the night turned to an inky smudge, his mind fled back to the past—to an old memory.

He thought he had already worn this one out with use long ago, wrung it dry until all the color had bled out of it. How many times had he played it over and over on the worst days, before they'd reunited, played it so many times to the point where he thought he'd been sick? Sick or not, that memory still brought a smile to him every time.

After so long with no need for it, the recollection suddenly seemed so fresh. So sweet and tempting a drug. Strange how just a dumb little memory could dull the pain better than a puff of opium...

---

The wind carries the sharp scent of salt. Bound west, they press on through the tapering trail in the wilderness of the peninsula, Mugen at the helm. It's rare for him to take the lead, but he happens to know a shortcut through the Ise Bay. Despite his reluctance to cross the sea, the sooner they can make it to Nagasaki, the sooner he'll be rid of the brat for good.

His sworn enemy treks some paces behind, steady and quiet and boring as ever. Until he's not. He hears Jin's even footsteps suddenly cease and then hears him speak, which is quite a rare thing.

"...Let's rest."

"Hah?"

He looks back. Jin looks back too.

There, down the forest path, huddled among the spidery ferns, is that annoying little blob of pink. Now this...is not a rare thing.

"Mouuu… I can't take another step…" Fuu mumbles. Then she waves her fist accusingly, shouting in her whiny damn voice that always makes his spine stiffen and his teeth grate no matter how much he's tried to train himself to brace for it. "We're lost because SOMEONE wanted to take a shortcut!"

"Aw, quit your bitchin'! We're doin' fine!"

"Take a look around! What makes you think we're doing fine?!" she whines.

"I can smell it. It's the sea."

"...The sea?"

"Yeah. It's right up ahead."

A big smile suddenly spreads across her face. "Really?!"

Her brown eyes glitter, got that little shine in them that she sometimes gets when something excites her. Like seeing food sizzling at a market stall. Or seeing a wild, possibly rabid, animal in the forest that she wants to pet. Or when she spots a fancy kimono or a scrap of jewelry she knows she never can afford. Still, that sparkle never dies out when she can't have all those things she wants. As if just seeing is enough.

He wonders what gives him a glint in the eyes like that.

Killing people? Probably that.

All of a sudden, she's on her feet, running right past Jin, and right past him. She sprints up the steep incline, never stops, even when she's breathless. And the moment she bursts from the bushes, hears the cries of the seagulls and the rush of the tides, she makes the happiest shout he's ever heard.

"The SEAAAAAAA!"

Down the cliff path, Fuu stumbles and trips on rocks, slips across the sands, and leaps right into the water.

He and Jin don't rush to follow her.

Mugen stares out at the bitter, blindingly bright ocean that reflects the sun's glare, watching the girl twirl among the glistening tides, pink kimono sleeves flowing around her waist. She's…she's laughing.

It's…wrong, seeing this. No one should be that happy frolicking around in a giant puddle of misery. But she makes it seem the most natural of things.

"I thought ya couldn't take another step, you little flake." he grunts.

Jin, as ever, has nothing to say.

Fuu rolls up her kimono to her thighs, kicking up splash after splash.

"I swear…" he sighs.

And for a moment, just a little seemingly insignificant moment, his brow eases, his heart calms. For just a moment he thinks maybe there is some bit of goodness in this world.

Until he catches something—someone—in the corner of his eye. The tight furl of his brow returns, his muscles stiffen, bracing himself as the past comes flooding back, sharp as a knife in the ribs.

---

That had been the first time in his whole damn life that the ocean actually looked beautiful to him.

Now, a forgotten, childish, innocent part of him wished he'd joined her then—wanted to splash water at her, dunk her head first into the cold sea, laugh when she'd yell at him and wave about her fists. He wouldn't even have given a damn what Jin thought of it now. Bastard would have just adjusted his glasses. Made a little "Hm." Or maybe, just maybe, he would've smiled at them. Mugen could only hope for that. Not that his hopes mattered. That chance had passed him by.

Back then…that part of him had been dead and buried. As if to remind him, his reunion with Koza and Mukuro had come moments after.

But, in that fleeting moment before, as he watched Fuu happily dancing on the shore, as she caught his eyes once as she twirled, he had not hated the ocean so bad. How could he possibly hate anything that made her laugh like that?

Right now, more than anything, he wanted to hear that laugh again. That annoying, high pitched, pig-like...hilarious, wonderful laugh.

Mugen gritted his teeth tight, felt a sting filling his eyes as the ocean spray surged.

"...Fuck this shit."

He sat up, even when his body screamed against it, took up the oars even when every muscle in his hands and arms begged to fail.

Waves sloshed against the measly skip, sending him adrift, away from the anchored ship. They were calm now. Not assaulting the boat. Not fighting him, as the sea often did. Mugen squeezed so tight on the oars that the wood stuck to his palms, sticky with drying blood, making certain that they would not, could not be dropped until he hit shore. Every row worked his core, and made that stab wound throb and burn. Steadily, carefully, his arms kept pace with his heartbeat. At first.

Mugen looked back, only once. Saw something on the dark horizon.

A figure, cloaked in black, stood on the surface of the water. Watching him.

That…couldn't be right.

He blinked.

And the vision was gone, leaving only rolling waves under a starlit sky. Unsettled but undeterred, Mugen returned to rowing. The longer he carried on and the closer the shore grew, the faster his arms worked, and the harder his heart pounded.

---

Fuu treaded quietly through the seaside village. As she peeked around the corners of the straw huts, and listened for the grating voices of the pirate crew, she heard nothing but the constant tides and that keening wind. All of the village had fallen as hushed as when they first arrived. Still no sign of Mugen anywhere either.

That cold uneasiness had returned to her gut, stronger than ever.

It was as she passed the barren streets, and crossed to the lonely beaches, that Fuu saw a small figure running—more like slipping—across the shoreline. She recognized her instantly: the young waitress from the tavern. Dark bruises dappled her paper white skin, and her black hair hung free, matted strands sticking to her tear soaked cheeks. Three times, she tripped, her sand caked legs quivering like that of a newborn deer.

Fuu sprinted to her side.

The waitress sobbed so hysterically, that she had to grab her by the arm to get her attention. At the slightest touch, she yelped, slapped her away, and fell backwards into the beach again.

Fuu held her hands up, her paper lamp bobbing in her grip. "Hey, it's alright! I won't hurt you."

Then she withdrew a handkerchief from her kimono sleeve, and reached out to dab off a line of dried blood from her broken lip. This time, the shaking girl did not pull away.

"Th-The pirates!" she whimpered. "Th-They… He-!"

More blood covered her small, shaking hands. Fuu wondered then, if she had just killed someone to escape them. And Fuu was suddenly reminded, with a stabbing sensation to her chest and gut, of the time she had to stab Inuyama through the back to save Mugen's life, and then left her only living relative behind because of it.

Even in self defense, to take a life—to wear the weight of another soul on your conscience—was a cripplingly heavy burden. It was one Fuu still had not shed. Maybe she never would.

She tucked her handkerchief away, and squeezed onto one of those blood soaked hands to help her up. Soothingly, Fuu rubbed her back once the girl seemed capable of standing on her own. Many years ago, her mother used to do that for her, whenever she'd caught her crying.

"It's alright. You're safe now."

Though it had been said in an effort to provide some comfort, Fuu wondered if she really was safe. There was no way she could've killed eight men on her own. The rest of the crew must have been searching for her even now.

"The- The man! He-"

"Let's just get you home first, okay? Quickly."

Shakily, the girl nodded. Fuu helped her to walk, the swinging lamp lighting their way along the beaches and through the dark, silent streets.

---

Mugen hadn't bothered to moor the boat anywhere, beaching right onto a rocky section of the shore. The keel drove into a bed of broken shingle with a hard, bumpy lurch. As he tumbled off the side of the boat with more than a few curses, his clumsy legs tangled in the sweeping surf. Back on his feet, miraculously, he crawled for land and got to limping. He tightly crushed his stinging gut with one hand to staunch the blood, and dragged along his bag with the other.

At the head of the village, someone stood right in his path, blocking the way.

Mugen expected a figure in black. It was not.

It happened to be that same brave soul who attempted to stab the captain in the back, had he not intervened. That boy who couldn't be more than seven years old.

"You!" he squeaked.

Mugen couldn't tell if that came from a place of fear, or of rage.

Lo and behold, he still held his big kitchen knife in his far too little fist. He thought the boy brave. Stupid, but brave. Or stupid for all his bravery. Maybe that made them similar. He'd been eight years old the first time he killed a man, after all.

After that giant ordeal, he had little desire to put much effort into fighting anyone else off—and certainly not a child whose head barely passed his hip. So Mugen dug into his pocket, his bloodstained fingers grazing the prize that he didn't feel much like holding onto as a keepsake anyway.

"Here, kid."

He flicked the speck of gold off his thumb. It caught the moon rays, twinkling brightly as it flew the distance. The boy opened his hand, fumbling to catch what he thought to be a coin. When he uncurled his little fist, and saw the bloody gold tooth sitting, root up, in his palm, a squeaky yelp escaped him. He jumped and nearly dropped it into the sand. But as he settled down, and stared at it, and the realization sank in that his dead brother had been avenged, he squeezed that piece of gold tightly in his fist, and looked back up to Mugen with bright, wet eyes.

"Tell your village that the rest a' their stuff is on the ship anchored to the east." Mugen said, passing the child by.

"You're… You're a hero, mister!" sputtered out the boy.

Mugen stopped right in his tracks, his muscles tensed to the point of pain.

"...Don't believe in heroes, kid. Or you'll just wind up disappointed."

The boy said nothing else as Mugen limped on, his hand clutching harder on his side, a wince infecting each of his strides.

---

"Otou-san!"

Once Fuu had brought the waitress to her run-down hut, the girl's father burst through the shabby, torn cloth over the doorway. She flew into her father's chest. The old man clutched his daughter tight, gathering her in his frail arms that shook just as hard.

Though the scene was a touching one, and she could not be more happy for their reunion…a small shard of Fuu wanted to yell at that father, wanted to slap him, wanted to demand why, how could he have just let them take his daughter away? How could he be such a coward?

...Maybe that was her old self speaking in the back of her mind. That bitter shade of her, once bitter at her own father, thinking him a coward for abandoning her and her mother.

The spiteful thought proved a brittle thing though, when she glimpsed the dark swelling of the father's eye and temple, and the scabby abrasions flecked across one half of his face. She realized then, that he had tried. What else could this untrained fisherman, well past his prime, realistically have done besides die in a failed attempt to save his daughter?

It was as Giri once said. His words hit like a punch to the head.

"That is naïve… Do you truly believe every fate is inescapable? Do you believe that every person can sustain themselves, and protect the ones they love…"

Fuu blinked at the ground, cursing her absence of wisdom, her unrealistic optimism. No matter how hard you fight...there is never a guarantee you'll win, or save the ones you care about. Her mother's death had introduced her to that reality. Her father's had solidified it. And Tsuru's reviewed the harsh lesson in all its entirety.

The father gently grabbed his daughter's face in both his weathered palms, stared at her bruises, then pulled her close again.

"Nagisa… Forgive me…I couldn't protect you. But…how? By what miracle did you manage to escape them?"

Only then did the girl pull away from her father. She looked back at Fuu, but could not keep her gaze fixed.

Shoulders shaking, she fought back another gush of tears. "That man… He...he killed them all. He saved me. But I didn't know. I thought he'd joined the pirates! And, I was so afraid… I…I didn't know!"

Carefully, Fuu stepped closer.

"Who." she asked.

Even when she'd already suspected. Already knew.

The girl's eyes clouded, tears falling. "The man you were with! In the tavern! But, I didn't know what was happening! There was blood all over him… And… And he had a knife in his hand. And I…I-! Oh, Kami…please, forgive me!"

Had her father not gathered her back into his arms and held on tight, the wailing girl might have collapsed.

"I stabbed him!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "I stabbed him in the stomach and still...he let me go, told me to run. Please forgive me! I didn't know… There was so much blood… So much…"

It was Fuu's turn for her hands to shake.

At that moment, every part of her wanted to hate this girl. She had just wasted all this time on helping this stranger, while Mugen bled out somewhere? All of a sudden, she wanted to drag the girl from the safe embrace of her father, claw at her matted hair, and scream into her bruised face: How could you? How could you? How could you do this?!

But she held her raging emotions and rising hatred in check before it all boiled over.

"I didn't know… I didn't know…"

She kept on repeating that phrase like a prayer. To absolve herself of the blame. Or the guilt. The more Fuu heard it, the more her hand twitched with the desire to slap her to get her to stop. And the more she couldn't bring herself to do just that; she knew the girl had only been afraid. But still...

How could she not hate the person who just stabbed the man she loved?

How could she hate someone who did so by accident, who was too stricken with fear to understand?

This was the harsh world she lived in. These were the cruel dilemmas it made. Fuu could only stand there, frozen, every action she thought of making, every thought she had, all choked up inside her that she couldn't so much as move or speak, let alone breathe right. Her eyes darted around, heart pounding in her ears.

"I need…bandages." she managed to say. "Disinfectant. A new sewing needle. Thread. Anything you have. Please."

When they didn't move instantly, Fuu lunged forward. Not with clawing, or slapping. She grabbed onto the girl's shoulders, squeezed so hard, shook her so violently that she might have even caused a little pain. But this time, the strangled sob that Fuu heard did not come from the girl at all.

"Please!"

---

The branches of the oaks and cedars drooped down towards his head, sucking him into the puddles of their shadows. Strange, that he felt he'd walked this road before.

The shifting pampas grass shimmered silver in the moonlight. Their plumes and stems swayed towards his shoulders, tunneling him on the buried, seldom trodden path. He slipped through the undergrowth, batted away the soft, wispy tufts with annoyance, and pushed onward, his steps more urgent than ever. Urgent and desperate.

Something had followed him here.

At first, he thought it might have been the boy from the village, tailing after him. But boys were clumsy brats, would've made too much noise. No...there had been no sound to mark its arrival. Just a feeling, creeping in, dropping a weight on his shoulders. Every step forward only made that weight grow in painful magnitude.

When it grew too heavy to bear, Mugen gradually slowed up, dragging his clogs to a choppy stop. With a labored pant and a dense fog over his vision, he crept a glance over his shoulder.

A figure, cloaked in black, stood at the end of a path.

All mud and leaf and branch.

Soundless, donning a dark mask of nothingness.

It brandished only a long stick in its black fist, whether for cudgel or for symbol, he had never known the purpose.

Through the years, he'd learned to expect more. Tonight, this one came alone. Familiar as they'd become, just one shadow still sent a cold chill through him. From his feet, to the back of his neck, it crawled to the roots of his hairs, until every single one stood on end.

It had been a long time. Two years now, since they last paid a visit. Since the gunshot and the explosion on Ikitsuki Island. Since Fuu chased them away with the calling of his name.

"Persistent fuckers, ain't ya…"

It made no response. Only the wind sifted through the silver meadow, rustling the blades of grass as softly as a whisper. He thought it might float closer, paralyze him, and drag him away to that place of blinding light, where the sky met the sea, and his eyes met with no others.

It did not. The figure only stayed rooted at the end of the trail he'd come from. Watched him with its hollow slit-eyes.

"Always comin' to visit when I'm at my worst. If I didn't know better, I'd think you guys liked me."

Mugen thought then, that the cruel words might seep up from its void of a mouth.

"A kara muzza uin."

But it said nothing. They never did.

Mugen gave a scoff, fragile as it sounded against the wind. He turned his back on it and shouldered on.

Step. Limp. Step. Limp. Had to make it back.

Step. Limp. Step. Had to hear that laugh.

He staggered, nearly fell. Had to see that smile.

Searing pain flooded into the two gouges in his chest, the hole in his stomach, and those nothing eyes burned harder into his back, even when his body shivered and teeth chattered every time the sea breeze flowed.

Again, he turned to look back.

There it still stood, a solid, unmoving black against the waving sea of silver.

Watching.

It stood the exact same distance from him as before. Not closer. Not farther away either, despite how Mugen knew he should have made a substantial distance from it.

"Not yet, bastard. Still not my time yet."

It said nothing. Didn't move. But it didn't pull him away.

It occurred to him then, that the thing did not block his passage going forward. It very well could have. Nothing had ever stopped them before. They'd surrounded him in a pack, impeded any escape and carried him off. But it did none of those things now. It only barred the way back.

"...Got someone waitin' for me."

He stared at it. The shadow stared back.

And when Mugen blinked…it was gone. On the track, only the moonlight trickled through the quivering branches.

For a time, he stared, then blinked so hard that a throbbing pulsation filled the backs of his eyes and made his whole head ache. Nothing ever appeared again.

Alone, he turned back around, his shaking hand pressed tighter to the wound in his side. On and on, he trudged through the trembling grasses, and tripped over the slithering vines, his geta clicking, dragging, and clicking again.

Towards the only home he'd ever had, and never deserved.

---

The light of the chochin lamp had died some time ago. Fuu had discarded it and opted for carrying all the medical supplies instead. Since then, she'd run the length of the beach, run through all the streets of the village, only the moon and stars as her guides. Couldn't find him anywhere. She huffed over her knees, her parcel clutched to her chest, her eyes stinging with sweat.

A small voice called out to her in the darkness.

"Miss, you looking for something?"

There was a boy, propped up on an old, mossy barrel in the town lane, legs swaying to and fro, examining something red and gold sitting in the center of his palm. She was so out of breath, too out of breath to properly speak.

"Have you…seen...a…man. He…"

The boy pointed down the shrouded path that led up to the forested bluff, and to the long forgotten shrine.

"The man in red went that way." he said.

She must have just missed him some moments before. How stupid, she thought. If she had just stayed where she was, just as he'd told her to, she might have already been tending to his hurts. Lacking the air and time to properly thank the child, Fuu nodded her head in a small bow, and the boy nodded back. Then, she was back to running.

On the leafy, narrowing trail up the sea bluff, spots of red glistened under the moonlight, dotting the ground. Drops here. Drops there. The farther she got, the more she saw. The more she saw, the faster she ran, her thudding feet ever at pace with her thudding heart.

---

Mugen passed beneath the shadow of the great, faded torii gate, shambling into the brilliantly moon bathed yard of the forgotten shrine. Fuu must have been waiting inside. Just then, he thought of running to her, if he had any energy left to run, that is. Throwing open the doors…

Taking her into his arms. Kissing her right then and there.

But…

He was soaked through in blood. The last thing he wanted was for Fuu to see him like this again.

"Promise you won't do anything...dangerous."

Bit late to regret it now.

As his vision gradually clouded over, and the ground shook beneath him, and the whole world tilted on its axis, all reason faded away. Seeking medical attention suddenly became an afterthought.

Had to clean himself up a little. Get some of the blood off.

Instead of heading to the hall of worship, he carelessly dropped his bag and stumbled under the awning of the ablution pavilion.

Cold water from the cleansing basin pooled in his palms. He drank deep of it, swishing the liquid around his teeth, and hawked and spat out that copper bitterness onto the cracked flagstones. Still couldn't get the damn taste out of his mouth. He sluiced more of the water across his arms, soaked up to the elbows in blood that both was and wasn't his own. It took no time at all for the clear water to tarnish to the shade of rust.

Much of the blood had dried and caked on so thick, that it did not wash out easily. He scrubbed, he scraped, until his dirty skin altered from the red of bloody smudges to the red of rawness. By then, most of the filth had clumped deep into his fingernails.

"A kara muzza uin."

And yet, he kept scrubbing at his wrists, neglecting all the blood everywhere else. It still stuck to his face, his neck, his elbows. But he stayed fixated on his wrists. How he couldn't get them clean. No matter how hard he worked to peel the taint away, the two sets of rings remained. Blue as bruises. Burnt into him forever. Shackled round his wrists tighter than iron.

"A kara muzza uin."

So he kept on scrubbing away. Kept on scrubbing, and scrubbing and then scratching, until his scratching turned to clawing and he faintly felt the skin break. They wouldn't go away. They wouldn't fade.

"A kara muzza uin."

He clawed as his vision blurred out of focus. Clawed as his breaths took on a ragged cadence. Clawed as his head thudded and heart throbbed harder than any of the wounds on him.

"A kara muzza uin."

Lost in his failed cleansing, Mugen didn't hear the footsteps come up behind him.

But he heard her voice.

"...Mugen?"

He froze. The burn in his muscles, the itch in his wrists, the excruciating pain to his shoulder, his chest, his gut, it all came surging back. It came back hard. The sudden vertigo made him nearly fall. Both his hands leaned on the lip of the basin, and squeezed to keep steady, hard enough that his knuckles clicked.

He stared down at his own reflection in that rusty pool. Dark, hateful eyes stared back.

"What are you...doing?" Fuu asked.

Needed to clean it all off. Couldn't let her see him like this. Not again.

"Stay...back."

She was already there beside him, turning him around to face her.

"Don't-!"

But it was already too late. Her eyes took in everything. All the blood that wasn't his own, freckled across his neck and face. All the blood that was, more black than red, soaked through his white undershirt.

Fuu gasped and dropped the bundle she'd been carrying. Her hand flew to her mouth, while he stood there stupidly, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, eyes too pitiful to meet hers. If he did look, he already knew what he'd find. Tears glistening in the glossy light.

Worst sight in the whole damn world.

Her arms shot forward suddenly. Reached for him. Wrapped tightly around him. Her chest pressed to his, her face to his shoulder.

His eyes widened, as he thought, for a moment, that she'd embraced him…hugged him.

Then Mugen realized he'd been wrong; his legs had buckled beneath him, and she'd done so to catch him against her before he'd collapsed.

But…as his forehead leaned on her shoulder, as his one arm slipped around her waist and the other around her back, held on so tight just to stay on his feet, felt her squeeze back to keep him upright…he wondered if there really was any difference between it anyhow.

---

The sewing needle teased through the mangled flesh of his stomach, digging and prodding through, like crawling, biting ants. With one fist clenched, and the other pressed down hard on one of the wounds at his shoulder, Mugen bared his teeth.

"Son of a bitch…" he hissed.

Fuu's eyes flickered to his. "Sorry…"

Inside the altar chamber of the dilapidated shrine, soft moonlight spilled through the largest of the holes in the roof, pooling them in a cold, pale glow, while the newly lit candles encircled them in a hue of warm amber.

When she'd first examined his abdomen, at the slightest touch, blood flooded out and coated her fingers red. From then on, his shirt and samue laid in a bloody, discarded heap nearby, leaving him wearing only shorts and the black prayer beads and its turquoise magatama strung around his neck. It'd been something of a hassle, lifting his shirt over his maimed shoulder, but Fuu had taken things slowly to ease his clothes off.

He'd have preferred her easing off his clothes under different circumstances.

She'd wasted no time in disinfecting the wounds. Now, one of Fuu's warm hands pressed to his clammy skin, while her other sutured the first gash closed as steadily and precisely as a seamstress working with fine silk. He was far from fine silk. More like tattered, itchy wool. Didn't stop her from being careful anyway.

Fuu never asked what happened tonight. She only worked in silence. Mugen knew that she must have figured out some of it, and was better off not knowing the rest. So he said nothing either.

Each time that damn needle poked through skin and the sewing thread tugged through, he took to the sake gourd pilfered from the pirates. Mouthful after stinging mouthful, he gulped it down, grimacing at the acrid flavor of the swill. Never did much to numb the pain. But that didn't stop him from trying.

Ten chugs later, Fuu stopped his hand. "You gotta stop drinking this. It's gonna thin your blood!"

A slight note of panic showed in her voice; he knew she'd been trying so hard to keep it leveled and calm. So he let her seize the neck of the bottle without resistance. Fuu set it down behind her, just out of his reach, unless he planned to crawl over her to get to it again.

Not that he would have minded crawling over her. Under different circumstances.

"Grab for it, and I'm splashing it on the cuts!"

He smirked. "Bitch."

After that, Mugen just gnashed his teeth, only ever unclenching his jaw to let loose a swear or a low growl. Stitch by stitch, wince after wince, the wound hemmed together neatly.

There were already so many scars and so many bruises across his body without the help of new ones. Just beside the new gash, Fuu easily recognized the thick line where Sara's magari-yari tore through his stomach and the line where Umanousuke's kusarigama did the same. Poorer stitch work back then. She'd gotten better at it with time. This one today wouldn't scar as badly, or at least she hoped.

Curiosity niggled at her as she worked. Scars aside, there really were so many things she didn't know about him. Throughout all these months, she'd been too afraid to ask, when he seemed so reluctant.

Once though, at the end of their first journey, at that bonfire on the riverbank near Ikitsuki Island, Fuu had asked each of them to share one thing about themselves. Mugen had been first. Of course, he didn't take the topic seriously at all; he just said he liked big breasted women and that he killed a lot of people… But after Jin shared more than he ever had, and Fuu had done the same, she'd caught Mugen's eyes on her in the firelight, before he'd quickly glanced away.

Ever since, Fuu wondered, if back then, he'd wanted to share something, and felt he'd missed the only opportunity. Halfway through a stitch, she thought she might take the initiative to ask again.

"Y'know, until today," she began. "I didn't even know you could speak more than Japanese. ...You never told me anything about yourself. Nothing about your past. Not ever."

He winced. "'Cause there ain't nothin' worth telling. Nothin' good came out of it."

"You came out of it."

"Exactly my point."

He flashed her a grin, wide and wolfish, spots of blood still stuck to his white teeth. Didn't scare her any. Never did.

"...You did something good today."

"I killed today. It's all I've ever been good at."

Her lashes glistened in the moonlight. He forgot something else: making her cry. He'd always been good at that too.

"...Is that really all you think of yourself?" she whispered.

Mugen leaned forward suddenly. Pain throbbed across his torso, his sutures pulling, his wounds itching. Maybe that fine row of stitches even split open.

"Please, you have to stay still!"

But he ignored her cry and the growing aches.

"Look me in the eyes, Fuu."

She looked up from his cuts and found, with a jump of her heart, that he'd leaned down so close to her, that the tips of their noses nearly touched. So close that she thought he would kiss her.

Mugen stared into her eyes, into that warm shade of brown that glowed a golden hue in the soft candlelight. So pure he could drown in them, forget everything that came before her, and still never get enough.

She held his stare. Didn't move away, no matter how bad her heart thumped, didn't move closer no matter how much her trembling lips desired it, yearned for it.

"People been tellin' me all my life that they see somethin' in my eyes. Something about me."

Something bloody and hateful in them. The dark eyes of a demon. The flashing eyes of a wild dog.

"Never cared a damn what they all thought about it. ...I just wanna know what you see."

Her throat fluttered ever so slightly as she swallowed. She continued staring, searching deep into his dark gaze that glinted silver in the pale moonlight. So striking she could get lost in them, dream of everything in a future with him, and find herself wanting it all to not simply be a dream.

"Well, that always changes. Your eyes, I mean. Sometimes, I see...intensity. And a lot of anger."

"An' that never scared you?"

Fuu shook her head, chestnut sidebangs swaying against her cheeks. He realized then, that she blushed a pretty pink, and the flutter of her throat, and the tremble of her lips had little to do with fear at all.

"No… Because, I always thought your intensity…hid a lot of pain."

Mugen's eyes grew wider. He broke their gaze first and backed away, staring off into the darkest corners of the shrine, where neither the halos of moonlight nor candlelight dared to reach.

He'd been one thought away from kissing her right then—if her words had not stopped him.

Not yet. Couldn't yet.

Gently, she grabbed him by the chin, coaxed him back towards the light. She took the opportunity of him being distracted to swiftly stick a swatch of gauze on the cut on his forehead. He flinched and made a little snarl meant to show his annoyance. Too bad for him, that Fuu always found his little snarls and growls endearing. Then, with one of her damp, sterilized rags, she cleaned off the dried smears of red around his forehead and right eye.

Once all the blood had been washed away from his face, she let the cloth fall at her side. He realized that she'd leaned so close, he could feel her warm breath tickling his lips. So close that he thought she might kiss him.

"Right now, though… Right now, your eyes look really gentle." Fuu whispered.

She leaned closer. Lashes fluttering, fluttering closed.

His heart thudded, thudded. Fuck, it thudded.

"Maybe 'cause I got a concussion." he blurted. "Hit my head pretty damn hard earlier."

Fuu jerked away, her brown eyes remarkably dilated. Staring into them, he instantly regretted making the joke at all.

"That's not...not funny." she said.

But then she giggled, at the stupidity of it, of making light of something so serious. Most of all, she laughed at the absurdness of another moment ruined. Proper timing had never been their gift.

But Mugen wanted to do this goddamn thing right. Had to.

He didn't want to kiss her while he was half dead and with that taste of lingering rust in his mouth and with the tears glistening from the edges of her lashes. He didn't want her to look back on the memory and forever be reminded of the sight of him soaked in blood. He hated how his heart smashed into his ribs and his quaking bowels felt like they were gonna drop out of him just at the idea of it. Strange, ridiculously stupid even, that slaughtering eight men today hadn't made him remotely as nervous as the thought of kissing Fuu did.

Never had Mugen been a man who liked to make plans. Everything he did, all his life were spontaneous, heat of the moment kinds of actions. Better to just charge in and do the thing, before you think too much about it and got yourself killed before it even got done. However…

Killing and kissing, he learned, were two very different things. ...Unless of course, one happened to administer poison via the mouth. A woman had once done that to him...

Three times now, he'd kissed Fuu spontaneously. Three times, he'd fucked it all up. Once, she'd kissed him drunk. And that hadn't been much better.

So he had to make it right. This one. Goddamn. Thing. Right. If that meant waiting a little longer for the fifth time—the real time—he'd wait. And though he'd been sick and tired of waiting for fuck knows how long now, and more than pissed at himself for ruining a second chance to kiss her tonight...it was all worth it to hear her high pitched laugh. So improper, and unbefitting a girl of her stature.

Fuck, but he loved the sound of it and he soon found himself laughing too.

Fuu assessed the knife wounds to his chest and shoulder next. Luckily, they only punctured muscle tissue. Only one inch down and to the right, and he'd have been lung pierced. One tiny difference and she'd have lost him forever. The thought chilled her to the bone, but she forced herself not to dwell on it as she worked to close the gashes.

Mugen didn't have any need for the sake anymore. In silence, he just watched her as she worked. And soon enough, she finished the sutures and moved on to the last of the three stab wounds, pushing the needle and thread through the meat of his shoulder.

"...If you weren't good at killing," she said, revisiting the start of the topic they'd dropped. "...You wouldn't have been good at protecting people."

He heard it again. Mukuro's cruel words. "That's funny. That's a laughing riot! A guy like you, protecting people?!"

He didn't find it very funny at all. And he was glad that the prick of the needle and pull of the thread ripped the thought right out of him.

"And me... I... I have blood on my hands too, Mugen."

He wasn't glad for long. His face twisted up in pain, whether from her ministrations or the memory of the time she'd stabbed a man in the back to save his life, he didn't know for sure.

"Not just with that samurai Inuyama either…" she said. "He may have been the only time I...I…stabbed someone. But even before him, so many people died because of me. How many people have you and Jin killed, protecting me? How many people died...because I couldn't save them? Like…my parents. Shinsuke. Okuru. And Tsuru…"

"That ain't on you." he said quickly.

"But it feels like it is. Sometimes I wonder if I've really done enough good."

Fuu thought then, of all those he'd helped or tried to help on this journey… Kokoro, Nozomi and Yakobei. Taikan and Chouka. Hankichi and Yatsuha. Katsumi. Manzou, Kagemaru, Inukage, Hatsuki and Yuta. Tsuru, Giri, and Otachi. And now a random girl they didn't even know.

"Just think of all the good you did for so many people on this journey. I couldn't have helped everyone I've wanted to on my own… Maybe you've done more good than I ever have."

Mugen almost laughed. The most good he'd ever done had been because of her.

Fuu sighed. "...If only I could be stronger. But…we have to make due with what we have and who we are. You're not all bad. And I'm not all good."

He wanted to tell her just how wrong she was. In this awful world, there were little joys he'd had. Good fights. Good food. Good drink. A friend in a rival. Few and far between little glimmers of goodness. Enough to keep him going.

In this life, rife with pain and hatred and betrayals and lies, there was her too. And she was far more than a mere glimmer.

"You're…"

He fumbled for the words.

Fuu looked up at him. This time, she smiled. "You can believe it all you want. But the Mugen I know...the Mugen I trust...is so much more than just a killer. The Mugen that is my best friend...is wonderful."

"Best friends? That what we are?" He choked out the only snort he could manage. "That's gotta be the lamest, pansiest shit I ever heard."

Fuu giggled and faked an eyeroll, "Fine, then! I suppose Momo is my best friend. And, I suppose Jin is yours."

"What the-?! Who the fuck ever said he's-"

"Besides…" she looked back at the sewing needle. "You already consider me something else…right?"

"What's that?"

"...Vva-ga sumo."

Mugen stared at her. Blinked several times.

Fuu's heart thumped with the seconds, with his astonished blinks, waiting for a reply and any sign.

A sharp snort rose up out of him. And then more laughter. He laughed even harder than before, so hard that he cringed, pretty certain that he'd just split open one of the stitches this time.

Mortified, she blushed outrageously and returned to her task, trying not to fumble with tying the thread. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to say it. How stupid. How—

"It's sum'a." he half snickered, half flinched. "Not sumo."

"O-Oh."

"Though, with the way you can eat, you could be a championship winnin' sumo wrestler any day. I'd make a killin', betting on you!"

"J-Jerk!"

He laughed. She laughed. They laughed together, until, over time, their wild laughter fell away to quiet giggles and low chuckling—and the terribly awkward silence of the shrine room took hold. All the beetles had stopped chattering. The hum of the waves was far too distant below the bluff to make up for the large lack of sound. Fuu finished the last of the stitching. Now, her hands became far too idle, while her mind was far from it. Once, Mugen tried to nonchalantly clear his dry throat, and that only made things worse.

With the quiet, the horrible, wonderful, crippling and liberating realization settled on just what Fuu had said and what he again, had not denied.

Neither dared to broach the subject further.

They both sat there, stewing in it. They wondered... When the hell did all this even happen?

When the hell had she become his? When the hell had he become hers?

When was the moment? The fireworks. The explosion. The big moment.

This?

No… That just didn't seem right. It might have been this way for some time. No official declarations. Never any proper confessions. When neither of them could pinpoint the exact start of the shift in what they meant to each other, they thought that perhaps all of this had just been one ridiculously slow process that grinded along, bit by bit. Odd, how it didn't feel very much different than before. Didn't even feel much different than their first journey together.

But acknowledging it, even without being direct, still had Fuu's stomach fluttering and still had Mugen's heart thudding.

He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her. She deserved better. She deserved so much more than a man with nothing to give, save for steel and blood.

But, as Mugen looked at Fuu, her eyes met his. No longer did they glisten with tears. She gave him another soft little smile, and then shyly looked away again.

A thought crossed his mind right then and there. More like whacked him in the face.

Whenever he fought and faced the prospect of losing to someone stronger, whenever the thought came that he might be in over his head, that he might not be good enough, he always found a way not to lose, no matter how slim the chances. All his life, he sought to improve himself. He trained. Faced his worst fears. Never ran.

Why should this—this strange thing he had with Fuu—why should it be any different?

Fuu deserved a better man. No doubt about it.

And that was exactly why he needed to become better.

For the first time since this whole crazy thing began, it suddenly seemed so stupidly simple a task. And Mugen always liked to keep things simple.

But before he could do anything, or figure out what the hell he was even supposed to do to be "better", Fuu hopped back to her feet and lit more candles around the room, as the others began to fade.

All that new light brought forth deeper, darker shadows, crawling and skittering along the walls. His feverish eyes glanced about, jumped to every corner, searching for any figure that might seek to deny his newfound resolution. No shadow figure appeared for him.

Only Fuu did. She'd returned to his side, having rinsed out the blood from the cleaning cloth. The cool, damp rag ran along his skin, cleaning his shoulder, his chest, then his stomach. She patted gently so as not to disturb the delicate sutures. His whole life, he'd been honed and shaped by being dragged across sandpaper. But she was always the softest thing.

He thought she might start bandaging him up now. Instead, she took hold of his arm and pressed the rag to his wrists last, washing off what scarlet streaks he hadn't managed to absolve on his own at the cleansing pavilion. He stiffened, all his tendons standing out sharply in his hands. But Fuu kept a steady hold on his arm. Not too tight to hurt. Just firm enough, just strong enough. Across his wrists, across each finger, the smooth cloth glided along, rubbing away the very last of the crusted blood.

"All the good and all the bad...I want to know. I want to know everything about you."

He whistled lewdly, "Everything? Movin' pretty fast there, ain't we?"

Her face reddened at the implication. "I-I thought you liked a faster pace."

"...Not with you."

"I-W-Well…"

He smirked, savoring her embarrassment, especially since it covered up a bit of his own.

"Shit. Guess I got used ta' bein' blue balled."

And at that, Fuu blushed so bright that she had to pause and hide her face in her hands.

"E-E-Eventually, then! If...If you're comfortable sharing more with me, I'd like to know more about you."

He soon lost his smile, another breath hissing out of his gritted teeth.

"...You don't wanna know everything."

"I do."

"Ain't a happy tale, girlie."

"But it's yours."

But Mugen knew the only tales worth telling were those he'd made once he met her and Jin. Before them, was he even alive? Truly? Or just a wandering corpse knocking on death's door?

"And besides," said Fuu. "I think being happy all the time is overrated."

He quirked a brow; that might have been the strangest thing she ever said, being the hopeful optimist she was.

"What I mean is…people take the littlest grains of happiness for granted. If you never experienced the worst sadness, the most pain you can bear, how can you ever know when you're truly happy? "

Her words brought back another memory. Not a happy one at all. Not one he cared much to revisit, if only for one little detail in it, that he'd long overlooked.

---

"Mugen." Koza whispers.

Beside him, the girl of his past sits upon the coarse sand.

"Do you remember? We looked up at the stars like this once."

"...Huh?"

"You told me something then… Looking down from up there, we wouldn't look any bigger than grains of sand."

"Doesn't ring any bells."

It does actually. But, though she might find the memory endearing, he finds no comfort in it. Looking up at those stars, he thought they never cared. How could something so bright in the sky, so far above everything else, ever care for something so insignificant, so far beneath it, as a grain of sand?

"...If we had been born someplace else, someplace other than that island, I wonder what kind of people we'd be?"

He's never wondered. Better not to dream up fanciful nonsense that could never be real. This is who he is and there's no going back.

"Mugen, are you happy now?"

"Huh?"

This…disarms him. Rare thing, that.

"I ain't given it much thought."

"That Fuu girl is happy, huh?"

This disarms him even more. Not once has it ever occurred to him that the brat might be even remotely happy in his company. All her yapping and complaining. All her arguing.

But then he remembers that smile of hers this morning, as she danced in the sea, the way her glimmering eyes caught his, for that tiny shard of a moment. Fuu and Koza couldn't have been much apart in age. And yet…how opposite they seem.

"...Ya think so?" he grunts.

"Yeah… She's happy because she gets to be with you, Mugen."

His brow furls, his jaw tightens. And there's a strange feeling in his chest. Hard to breathe like this. But he doesn't dare to move, just stays laying on his back, keeps his eyes on those distant stars so far above him.

"Mugen…"

Koza presses a hand to his chest, and then presses her face against his stomach. Looks him in the eyes. But he can't return her gaze. Her eyes are so black. So hopeless. So soulless. If he looks, he'll be dragged back into old memories, to old places. To old pains.

"I want to be with you too. Just like she is."

Like hungry spiders, her hands crawl across his abdomen, his chest, and he understands instantly what Koza must mean by that. He realizes then, that she does not understand the relationship he has with Fuu at all.

Koza must think him to be like Mukuro, and the other pirates. That he uses Fuu's body like they've used hers. Turned her into a husk that did not fight back. Obediently accepted all the wrongs. Never tried to leave on her own. Too afraid to do so without help. Too afraid to be alone, willing to lean on the shoulders of the cruel. Never taking a single risk.

"I want to run away from here. So let's run away. Together."

That's what it's always been: running away. He thinks of Fuu then, of what he has with her. He could have easily run away all this time. But he's tired of running. He couldn't abandon this journey. Couldn't abandon her.

Not for this.

Whatever Koza's twisted affections might be, whatever she has deluded herself into feeling for him, he's never felt the same. Whatever she wants to use him for, it's a purpose he has no interest in fulfilling.

"Sorry lady. I ain't that kinda guy."

He pushes her off, grabs his tsurugi sword, and stalks off, just as a cold, heavy rain begins to fall.

---

He wondered if Koza had been right all along about it. He wondered how she guessed he was happy. How she knew Fuu was too. And for one of the few times in his life, a small stab of pity hit him. He realized that Koza could never find that level of happiness. Not with him. Not with anyone. But he quickly buried that thought away.

The wet cloth no longer stood between Fuu's skin and his, thrown back into the water pail with a gentle plunk.

"So many times, I went through the pain of thinking I lost you. If I never went through it, maybe I would've taken this for granted." she said.

He watched, eyes hooded, breaths shaky, as her fingertips tentatively, softly brushed against the ink brandings on his wrist. Like that one stormy night in the abandoned stable, where she first asked to hear the story of how he got his tattoos...when they could be alone together again.

Well, here they were.

"You can never wash all of your past away. You're gonna carry that weight." she said, meeting her eyes with his. "Always. ...But you don't have to carry everything alone."

Mugen used to believe trust to be like a slow rot. It hurt worse the more you let it spread. When you shared your past with others, they prodded at the scabs, made them bleed open again, exposing all your weakness, all the hurt to that infection. For a long time, he'd never allowed that to happen.

Not until Fuu and Jin.

In retrospect, he realized how wrong he'd been about it all. Trust was no infection. Digging up old, buried memories wasn't like picking at a scab at all.

It was more like resetting a broken bone.

Hurt like a son of a bitch, no matter how gently you tried to do it. Some tasks just need doing though. And once that broken bone got fixed back into place, it strengthened, hardened all the more for it. Like tempered steel. If there was anyone in the world who he trusted to tend to his wounds, to patch his cuts, to reset his bones, it was Fuu. Always had trusted her for it.

Mugen looked up and gazed thoughtfully at all the little holes that mottled the broken roof, where the light of the flickering stars peeked through.

Fuu didn't look at the faraway stars that were too beautiful, too unfair, too cruel to give a damn about gritty grains of sand. She only looked at him, her hand still resting on his marked wrist.

Her thumb softly traced over each cerulean ring, forward and back, backward and forward.

Long ago, she never would have been so bold to allow her touch to linger so long upon him. Always had to keep a great distance from the fire, play it safe like a good girl. Otherwise, she'd take a big risk of being burnt and never recovering.

Long ago, he'd have shirked away from her touch, barked out a harsh swear and stalked away. Always had to close himself off, be the lone wolf. People don't go near the dogs they fear might bite.

Both too stubborn to get too close. Both too afraid. Of betrayal. Of abandonment. Not being enough. But that was long ago, and this was now.

He was here. She was here. And here was a long, long, long way from there.

There, the proverb "A kara muzza uin." seemed a suffocating, inescapable law of life. Here, with Fuu, he thought for the first time what bullshit it was. And he could finally be free of it at last.

Mugen breathed in fast and exhaled a slow sigh. Not a tired sigh, or an exasperated one. A sigh of letting go of a great weight. Or at least half of it.

"Where the hell do I even begin?"

Fuu smiled gently, drawing figure-eights along his tattooed wrist that made his heart jump and his spine tingle.

"Well… I always wondered where you got the name Mugen."

~To Be Continued~

---

[A/N]: Lot to cover on Cowboy Bebop below. But first, some cultural stuff.

Blood in Shinto Shrines- Shintoism has a heavy focus on purification and an extreme aversion to pollutants that include things such as: death, blood, disease and childbirth. Treading into a Shinto Shrine, through the red torii gate, is believed to be leaving the physical human realm and entering the sacred realm of the Kami, where there can be no death or uncleanliness allowed.

Cleansing Pavilion- Upon entering a Shinto Shrine, tradition dictates that one must first go to the ablution pavilion and use the ladles in the basin to pour water into their hands, wash them clean, and then rinse out their mouths of "impurities".

Not only has Mugen done a huge Japanese taboo by bringing blood into a Shinto shrine, he has made it all the worse by tainting the ritual cleansing pavilion in the process of trying to cleanse his hands and mouth of the blood. …And he cannot get himself clean, no matter how much he tries to purify himself.

All of this purification versus taint happens to also relate to Susanoo-no-Mikoto, Kami of Sea and Storms (covered heavily in Chapter 43 To Love is to Love). He was considered by the other Kami to be born covered in the impurities from the land of the dead. The Kami cast him from the heavens for this, and his cruelty and mischief. Ever the underdog since the very beginning. He was only later redeemed and allowed to return to the heavens, after saving a girl from an eight headed serpent. Here, Mugen saves a girl from eight pirates with a Ryukyuan Habu pit viper as their ship's sigil, and returns to the sacred shrine afterwards to heal.

Koza's Actual Words in Japanese- If you watch the English dub or read the English subtitled version of Samurai Champloo, Koza's words are misconstrued and it infuriates me. In both, after asking Mugen if he's happy, the English dub and subtitle then says "Fuu is lucky. She's lucky because she gets to be with you." However, Koza's official words are "Fuu-chan wa shiawase, dayone?" While yes, "shiawase" can mean both "happy" or "to have good fortune", in previous context, Koza just asked Mugen if he's happy now with "Mugen wa ima shiawase?" The word "Dayone" is used for ", right?" Or ", isn't it/he/she." as in, to receive clarification for your belief. So, she is continuing from her previous statement with "Fuu is happy, isn't she." because he didn't give an answer about being happy or not. She is not simply saying she is lucky being with him. I don't know why the translator decided to use the lucky context over the happy one only for Fuu and not for Mugen, when happiness was the focus of this scene. But it annoys me that it's the English that is turned more subtle than the Japanese meaning.

Karambit- while a modern tactical curved knife, karambits were actually ancient weapons that originated in Indonesia, and gradually grew very popular in Malaysia and Philippines. Having a group of pirates that pillaged throughout southeast Asia, I thought it too much a good opportunity to pass up including it. However, the karambit used by this pirate is meant to be a more "chanpuru" anachronism of a modern tactical karambit versus how the knives looked in ancient history.

A little note on Japanese- The Japanese language does not have a "v" sound. However, the Miyakoan language does. Oftentimes, Japanese people will pronounce foreign words with a "v" by turning it into a "b". Example, Valentine becomes Barentain. So, when Fuu says "Vva-ga" to Mugen, it would have sounded more like baga...which in turns sounds like "Baka", meaning "stupid". So she sounded like she called herself "Stupid Sumo Wrestler" rather than "Your Woman". Side note, when Ayako Kawasumi made up her Fat Fuu voice in the anime, she is quoted saying she was trying to do an impression of a sumo wrestler. All jokes come full circle 'round here, folks.

Much of this chapter's theme and dialogue is one last mirror of Cowboy Bebop's Spike and Faye, specifically referencing their very last scene together in Episode 26. Here is some context as to why I found it necessary to reference Bebop and "reverse" the main idea of the scene.

(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR COWBOY BEBOP BELOW)

The Mirror of Mugen and Fuu and Spike and Faye

Mugen and Spike- Both are men running away from a criminal history. Mugen is successful because he wants to let his past go. Spike is not because he can't let the past go. Where Mugen is wild and ambivalent, Spike is relaxed and aloof. Spike has the repeated dialogue of "living in a dream". In contrast, Mugen's official kanji did not originally mean "infinite". This was a pun introduced in Episode 18. Officially, Mugen's kanji in the Roman Album means "Not a dream."

Fuu and Faye- Both are chasing a past that they cannot even remember. Fuu received closure in her past. Faye does not. The scene of young Fuu chasing her father, and then running to her father's hut, is similar to past and present Faye running to her home she finally remembers. Fuu is trusting of people and sees the best in them, while Faye has no trust of people after being hurt. Both are terrified of attachment.

The Reversed Church Scene- Faye is held hostage in a church but Spike is not there to save her. He is there for revenge on Vicious. When told to drop his weapon when Faye is held at gunpoint, he does not, and shoots the man, with little concern for Faye's well being. In contrast, Fuu is held hostage in a church, and Mugen is only there to save her. It is Umanousuke who is out for revenge on him. He is never even told to drop his weapon, when a scythe is at Fuu's neck, but he offers to do so on his own.

Near Death Experience- The entirety of Samurai Champloo Episode 14 Misguided Miscreants (Part 2) references Bebop's episode 5 Ballad of Fallen Angels- Shot for shot is even identical.

1. Both are freefalling. Mugen is drowning. Spike is falling out of a Church window.

2. Shows a close up on their eye. But the OPPOSITE eye.

3. Spike and Mugen's past is in a yellow tint.

4. An injured Spike and Mugen collapse on their face.

5. Mirrored image of Julia and Koza nursing them back to health.

6. Mugen and Spike look up in bandages.

7. Spike wakes up from this memory to find FAYE nursing upon him now. Mugen wakes up to find FUU nursing upon him now.

Afterwards, Spike beckons Faye closer with his finger (which is how Mugen beckons Fuu closer in episode 1). Faye leans to his face to hear what he says. Then he insults her and ruins a heartfelt moment. Faye is enraged, slaps him, and storms off angrily. In contrast, Mugen grabs Fuu's wrist to bring her closer. Fuu leans to his face to hear what he says. He tells her he's hungry, and ruins a heartfelt moment. While annoyed, Fuu soon smiles and runs to get him food.

Mukuro and Vicious- Both are evil men that Mugen and Spike were partners with, in their criminal past. Mugen just wants to get away from Mukuro and always hated him. Spike has an obsession to face and kill Vicious, who was once his friend. Mukuro has a gun and Mugen a sword. Spike has a gun and Vicious a sword. Mugen gets no closure to kill Mukuro. Spike gets closure to kill Vicious. Their dialogue is also similar.

Mukuro: "You and me, we're two of a kind. Both of us are loved by this hell we live in."

Vicious: "The same blood runs in you and me. The blood of a beast who wanders, desiring the blood of others."

Koza and Julia- Both are abused by Mukuro and Vicious. Spike loves Julia. Mugen does not love Koza. Julia and Koza lean their head against Spike and Mugen's chest and clutch onto them with extremely similar dialogue.

Koza: "So let's run away. Together."

Julia: "Let's just run away somewhere. Just the two of us…"

Spike lets Julia hold him in the rain. Mugen pushes Koza off him and leaves her in the rain. Later, Mugen completely ignores Koza's existence, leaving her in his past forever.

Bebop Versus Champloo Finale- Faye is unable to stop Spike from leaving and says "Are you really going to throw your life away for nothing?!" Fuu is entirely Mugen's motivation to come back, and Umanousuke says to Mugen "Are you really going to throw your life away for some girl?!"

Faye practically begs Spike to stay. He doesn't stay.

Mugen commands Fuu to go. Fuu doesn't want to leave him.

Both Mugen and Spike get shot in the exact same place in the last episode: in the right lumbar. Fuu however, is able to chase death away from Mugen…

Thus, Mugen and Fuu is a positive "fix" to every negative that Spike and Faye had. Every reason that Spike and Faye could not be together, is altered into every reason that Mugen and Fuu could be. One day, I will likely make a giant post about this on Tumblr qith even more comparisons and also pictures to show the shot for shot similarities. Cause there is a tooooon more. And even some stuff with Jet and Jin.

This chapter was meant to provide one last mirrored reflection of Mugen and Fuu growing closer than ever, at the moment where Spike and Faye drifted.

This chapter's reversed references to Cowboy Bebop Episode 26- Spike is leaving Faye. In this chapter, Mugen is returning to Fuu. Faye tells Spike "You never told me anything about yourself. Don't tell me stuff like this now!" Conversely, Fuu wants to know everything he never told her. When Spike leans close to Faye and tells her to look into his eyes, she backs away. When Mugen does the same, Fuu does not back away at all. Spike tells Faye what he sees through his eyes: the past and the present. Mugen implies to Fuu that people see things in his eyes: evil, even when Fuu sees good.

If you enjoy this story, consider favoriting, following and leaving a review on any and all thoughts! I ended last year by posting the end of the Tsuru arc. So I wanted to end this year on a better note. Wishing the best for you and your loved ones and a very happy holiday! And whatever your dreams may be, don't let them simply stay dreams. Strive to make them reality. Let's all make 2022 a great year!

End of Chapter 48