"Have you heard that myth about past lives?"
"Which one?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. There's so many…but one in particular always comes to my mind: You see, once they've been created, our souls are given a single thread from the Fates. We're challenged to keep it untangled for the duration of a human lifetime. During our lives on Earth, our mistakes and sins add knots to it. We can only re-enter paradise if the thread is completely free of tangles. If our spirit can't do it in one lifetime, they try again in another. And another. Stretching on until the thread is smooth again. We're all reborn to correct the mistakes of our past selves. Isn't that interesting?"
"Do you think anyone ever does it?"
Her lips curve into a smile, but her voice has the cadence of someone hundreds of years old.
"I think they get close."
There's a flash of images, the colors nearly blindingly bright, achingly familiar.
A woman on a boat, sailing away from him into the night, her beautiful face anguished with longing mirrored in himself.
One.
A dirt road on a summer day, framed by blue mountains and columns of puffy white clouds stretching towards the heavens. He's squinting over his shoulder one last time. A dot of red. A dot of pink. Too late to turn back.
Two.
"How many knots are left in yours?"
Weak light filters in from behind his curtains, seeping through his lids and Jin's eyes flutter open. He sits up, shifting the covers over his legs. He's still for a moment, listening to the morning traffic outside, the rare chirp of a bird near his window. He latches on to that last detail.
He goes over to the phone and dials his office. When his boss answers he offers an apology, but that he needs to take a few days off; he has personal business to attend to. This request is met with surprise, Jin has never called out of work in all the years he's been there, but ultimately respected for that very reason.
He hangs up and begins to dress for the day, switching on the TV for some noise like he always does. He secures a plain watch around his wrist, checking the time with some alarm. He needs to head out soon. He's just not sure how long this plan will take to bring to fruition.
Especially since this plan involves a very unpredictable component. Of whom he followed the night before.
He waited outside the club, patiently sipping from a can of green tea. Usually he'd go in, out of habit, to talk with Fuu. He likes her company, even if she's a bad source of inside information like he had hoped. She doesn't mind when he has nothing to say and she has no problem filling the silence with one of her own stories. And devouring the food he buys for her of course.
She's too young to be working there and to be getting mixed up with the hellhound of a loan shark.
Unfortunately, it's obvious that the two have become entangled. Very entangled judging by the self-assured smile gracing Mugen's usual scowling face last night. From experience, there's only so many things that can change a man's natural demeanor quite like that.
He'll have to worry about that another day. Fuu's well-being aside, there's another hostess he's more concerned for.
He follows Mugen through the winding streets, leading to what he can only assume is his boss's headquarters; a dilapidated building with a streetlight out front flickering ominously.
Umanosuke.
Crooked businessman, criminal ties, sticky fingers in all sorts of illicit business ventures. An entrepreneur, he would claim.
He's seen him before at the club in Ginza, a simpering woman on each arm. Shino's perfect mask slipped one evening when her eyes caught on to him as they parted. She looked down and away, like she was trying to avoid being called on in class. He tried asking her about it later but she was tight lipped as always. Always pushing him away from her problems.
Since she's pushed him away entirely he's free to look into it how he wants.
He judged by the way the lights turned on and off in the old apartment, Mugen would be staying the night there. He made a plan to be back the following morning.
His closet is arranged in neat rows of navy blue jackets and pants ironed and ready for work. His off-work clothes are pushed aside in a neglected corner. A more casual pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt. Still navy. Not exactly comfortable for this time of year but he settles on it.
Shino would run her fingers across the lapel of his jackets, tilting her head in question: why only work clothes? He explained that only ever saw her after work. She would probe him about why he never wears anything else. Why not go somewhere fun? He never has anywhere else to go.
"Don't you ever want to go somewhere that makes you feel alive?"
She makes him feel alive. Like his one sole purpose is to make her smile, catch an unexpected and unlady-like snort of laughter. He brought it up once, that he wanted to take her somewhere nice. Somewhere away from the city. Like the ryokan from before. She smiled then.
"I'd like that. But only if you promise to let loose a little."
These are the steps then to take her in that direction. To be with her. This time without shame or hiding. No more fear.
He won't go back on that promise.
The humidity causes his glasses to slide down his nose. He's already sticky with moisture and the sun is barely up, but blazing at him through the hot haze. His thin shirt sticks to his back uncomfortably.
The lucky part about his expedition is that following Mugen turns out to be easier than he expected. He's able to stay behind him several yards, keeping pace easily, since it seems Mugen is tired. He keeps yawning, blinking blearily at the ceiling of the train they're on before nodding off and snoring loudly. An older woman nearby side-eyes him warily, switching her purse to the other side of her body.
What Jin does not understand, however, is just how Mugen is able to get around with a sword strapped to his back in broad daylight? Anytime it seems he's approached about it, like the policeman who stopped him before he got on the train, he mutters something and they nod in understanding, letting him pass.
Mugen jerks awake after a few minutes as the train begins to slow and gets off at a stop. Jin continues following him from behind for several more minutes.
They end up in the outskirts of the city, in a sprawling lower middle class area of the suburbs. There are smaller shops here and there, cramped stalls that only open at night with blue tarps thrown over their windows. Cicadas screech in rhythm with the buzz of AC units they pass. Jin is still drenched in sweat from the trek but Mugen seems to take the heat in stride.
They end up turning a corner into a neighborhood.
Knowing what kind of job Mugen has, this puts him on edge; these are family neighborhoods. From the look of the poorly scrubbed graffiti and sun bleached siding on some of the homes, very low income. Not the usual sort of people mixed up with loan sharks unless they're desperate. An old man nearby takes his trash to the corner bins, slowly separating the recyclables from the glass and paper. His wife joins him with a small yappy dog on the end of a leash excited for a walk.
He turns back to watch Mugen with a close eye.
He checks a slip of paper from his pocket before stuffing it back inside. His sights are set on one of these older apartments with a blue van parked on the street out front. He throws his cigarette on the ground, stamping it out. On his face is grim determination. He cracks his neck, stretching his arms.
Jin feels his own muscles tighten in response, ready to intervene at a moment's notice if need be.
But Mugen freezes.
A harassed looking man ushers a little girl out of the front door and towards the van parked out front, complaining that they'll be late. He's distracted, balancing an armful of toys and a diaper bag in one arm and a squirming toddler in the other.
Jin watches, bewildered, as Mugen seems to let out a curse to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration before pacing backwards out of sight behind the concrete fence. With some surprise Jin realizes: he isn't going to hassle this man for money. He can't.
While the father is busy loading the vehicle and wrestling the toddler into her car seat, the other little girl walks around the back of the van and drops her hot pink bag, sending crayons and colored pencils spilling across the sidewalk. Mugen hesitates, watching her scramble for them. He finally bends to pick them up before they can roll into the street. He doesn't notice right away that she's helping him, clumsily picking up the multicolored pencils with her tiny hands. She taps him on the shoulder, holding them out to him like he's a favorite uncle of hers and not a strange man with a sword on his back.
From his crouch Mugen seems to sigh, bowing his head in resignation. He accepts the handfuls of pencils from her before gently turning her around and sliding them back into her bag and zipping it up. When she turns back, her face lights up, pointing delightedly at his arms.
"Pretty!"
She pokes the colorful tattoos on his arms with interest, babbling nonsensically. His face is less stern as he presses a finger to his lips to keep her quiet. Giggling, she mimics the action herself, pressing a chubby finger to her mouth. He nods his head towards the vehicle and she toddles back obediently.
Jin watches all of this in blank astonishment; he's terrible with children. They're always afraid of him for some reason. He remembers his neighbors kids running away from him shrieking like he was a dangerous criminal when he offered them their ball back when he came across it in the hallway of his building.
And he isn't even covered in tattoos.
As Mugen stands, he jams his hands in his pockets and passes by without looking back. The man finishes strapping his daughter in and hoists the other little girl onto his hip.
"Come on, Okaasan will be out of surgery soon!"
"Look! Lookit!" she points at Mugen's back.
"Don't point, it's not polite."
Jin resumes following Mugen after this, but he feels his shoulders relax somewhat. He isn't the man he thought he'd be. He doesn't know what type of man he is, but it seems even he has his limits to what he'll do to get his bosses money. This gives him hope. No restoring to bribes or extortion, both of which make him uncomfortable.
He follows him down several twisting streets, wondering if he has another job to collect money from. As he disappears down an alley, Jin hastens to catch up, but when he turns the corner he's faced with the end of a sharp blade pointing at him followed by a menacing growl.
"Why the fuck are you following me?"
Mugen eases on him until Jin's back hits against a chain link fence. It creaks as he takes an involuntary step back, the tip of the sword grazing his chin.
"Think you're real slick huh? What're you after?"
"I'd like your help." He says honestly. "Just hear what I have to say."
This only causes Mugen's eyes to narrow further in suspicion.
"Why would I wanna help you ?"
A good question. Why would he? How should he get through to a man like this? A man who works for a loan shark, but refuses to shake down a man with a sick wife? A man who would pull a weapon on him when not five minutes before he was picking up crayons for a little girl. He expected to be dealing with more of a vagrant thug with loose morals, but since he's not, he switches tactics.
He closes his eyes.
"I'll buy you lunch."
The sword is sheathed at once.
"Deal."
"But his tab ran out." Fuu says.
She holds her hands out while Yuuka squints, painting meticulous and tiny designs on her fingernails. The swoop of a tiny brush adds the wavy petals of a sunflower on her thumb.
"And?" she replies, distractedly, reaching for another polish beside her.
They've been having a back and forth over the last half hour. Yuuka, who apparently does everyone's nails at least once a month, forced Fuu down in the dressing room, announcing that it was her turn. The process involves a good deal of not moving and being very patient, both of which are causing her extreme pain. She wants to pace and cry and whine and throw her hands up in frustration.
She knew this day was coming. Mama-san delivered the news to her earlier and she tried to ignore the very pointed look she gave her, like she knows . They had their fun right? He might want a little more, but whether or not she should even entertain that idea…it confuses her. Especially because she wants more too. A lot more. Too much more for what they have.
"I don't want to get in trouble for messing around with a customer. It's the first time in my life that I'm not juggling bills between paychecks. I also worry about him only liking me for… You know."
Yuuka nods, cleaning up a cuticle and then smacking one of Fuu's hands when she reaches for a bag of chips. She pouts.
"Not until they're dry." she snaps and then adds more kindly, "You're worried he only wants in your pants. Yeah, that's a possibility, sorry to say. I've had plenty of guys who think they can blow my mind only to find out they're all talk and when I'm not into it, they bounce."
Yuuka then stops, pointing a nail file at her accusingly.
"Plus, weren't you only interested in him for what he could do to you?"
She goes red at this.
"I-I mean yeah, at first! And, it would be easier to ignore him if he were all talk." she mutters embarrassed. "But he's really good. And he's kind of sweet too."
She notices Yatsuha enter and she lowers her voice some.
"I know he'll come back tonight. What if he pays? What if he doesn't ? If I accept it does that make me…" she trails off with a whine.
"There go your morals again." Yuuka sighs. "What's better, he pays for your time, or you give it to him for free?"
"I just wish we met a different way. No deals. No bargains. If he were a customer when I worked at the restaurant, that would have been more romantic, don't you think? It would have made more sense that way. I hate that I had to meet him with his creepy boss there."
She examines her nails as soon as Yuuka lets them go. They're pale pink with tiny bits of miniscule sunflowers, the way the leaves scatter gives the impression of them flying across her nails.
"Oh these are so pretty!"
"Don't let mama-san look too close. She's always complaining that I make everyone look tacky. She just doesn't understand fashion these days."
She gives Fuu a pat on her head.
"Anyway, you're overthinking it. I say keep letting him blow your mind. If not, he might take those skills somewhere else."
She winks before leaving. It's just a teasing remark, one to spur her into action, but it turns her stomach to imagine him with someone else. The fact that he is so skilled means he's had plenty of someone else's. Plenty of other girls he's lured into his lap before her. Probably better than her.
She's always been too open with how she feels. Her heart is a little too easy to touch, easy to break. She's always been fragile like that, no matter how she pretends not to be. He could tell right away that she was interested in him. Barely one touch and she just melted . It was scary to be the only one laid bare and exposed like that.
He's awoken something in her. A need like hunger. She's never been very good at holding back when it comes to food either. She thinks of his hands on her, warm and strong. The muscles beneath his skin, so relaxed when she touched him the night before. She should have taken it further right then. He probably expected her to. She was too distracted—too busy inspecting him, talking his ear off about things he doesn't care about. Too inexperienced.
A tiny voice speaks up from her mind: But, if he didn't care he probably wouldn't have given you his jacket. Or asked her to be safe walking home. He doesn't strike her as the type to just say things like that. Or like when he said he touches himself after every time he sees her. The memory brings back another pang of that hunger.
Really? Every time?
Maybe he's not off seeing other women then. She wants to make him feel good too. Just like he did for her. She can figure out the rest later. Now that her hands are free she reaches in to grab the chip she was denied before, checking over her shoulder to see if she'll be scolded.
Less overthinking, more indulging.
She'll let him know his tab has run out first, then she'll conveniently mention that she left his jacket at home and if, after work, he'd like to accompany her to get it…
Mugen's choice of restaurant turns out to be a corner ramen shop. Jin is about to step into a different one at first, but Mugen stops him with a shake of his head, muttering something about weak broth.
The manager at the front seemed to be on the verge of turning him away, clearly alarmed by his appearance. That is until Mugen shrugged and said one word:
"Cosplay."
Cosplay. That's his magic explanation that lets him get away with carrying weapons in the open?
"Does that excuse always work?" Jin asks as they sit down at a rickety table.
Mugen slides in across from him and shrugs.
"Usually. Helps that there's always some sort of lame nerd convention going on. I say I'm a character from some dorky anime and they leave me alone."
He's right, of course. There usually are conventions happening, especially around summer. Jin knows this because tucked inside his dresser are weekend passes to a few upcoming conventions that he's saved up for. He thinks better of attempting to explain that they're not just for nerds, but an overall experience for dedicated fans. He has a feeling this will only hinder his cause. So he tries not to take too much offense to the description of them as 'lame nerd conventions.'
They sit together in silence but it's not uncomfortable. Not even tense like he expected.
"Feels…familiar."
"Hmm?"
Mugens chin rests in his hand as he looks out the window, watching the cars pass by.
"There's something about you that pisses me off but...somethin' else too. Like I know you. Sounds crazy. Probably is. Been havin' lots of crazy thoughts like that lately though. Like I'm being set up by the damn universe or something."
Jin thinks of his dream. The conversation he and Shino had months earlier. He's not particularly religious and he's not sure where she heard such a myth before but it feels fitting. The eerie sense of having been placed precisely where he's supposed to be, to fulfill a purpose.
"So you feel it too then? I thought it was just me."
Mugen's eyes flick back to him.
"But don't get any gay ideas buddy. I don't feel any other weird shit for you."
Jin lets out a pained sigh, choosing to ignore this comment.
"What will you do about the man who couldn't pay?"
His sharp look and subsequent glum expression convey how very clearly unhappy he is to have been caught in such a vulnerable situation.
"I got a stash." he admits, opening the soy sauce sitting on the table to sniff critically. "People like that aren't worth hassling."
"You…pay it yourself?" Jin says in surprise.
"Yeah, is that a problem?" he says, getting defensive at once. "Should I go back there and see if the kids got a piggy bank I can break?"
"No. I just expected you to be—"
He wants to say less honorable , but that feels harsh given what he's come to learn about him.
"Violent," he says instead.
"I am." he insists savagely. "Trust me there are plenty of assholes I'm sent to collect from that deserve the beating they get. Guys who spend all their money on gambling or whorehouses, when they got hungry kids at home. Deadbeats who don't keep their promises. You know the worst part about those guys? They'll joke about beating the shit out of their women and worse and then turn around expecting me to just get it. Like I'm in on some little scumbag secret with them. Nothing pisses me off more than guys like that thinking I'm on their side, but God do I love wiping the shit eating grins from their faces when it happens."
Jin observes this little speech quietly, watching veins on the back of his clenched hands raise through his tatted skin, quiet fury in his dark expression.
A waiter brings over platters of their food, setting udon before him and several bowls and plates in front of Mugen who snaps up his chopsticks eagerly.
"You're good with children." Jin says casually. Hoping to steer the conversation back into more neutral waters.
"Kids are easy."
"They're not." Jin insists. "They don't like me."
"Cause' you got a fish face." He talks through a mouthful of noodles, one dangling against his chin. "You're all sickly and pale. Clammy. Probly' think you're a demon. Kids can sense it. Gotta be more approachable, like me."
Jin accepts this insult with as much grace as he can muster. The two eat in relative silence for a while longer. He waits until there's a lull before he brings up what he's been wanting to all afternoon.
"How long have you worked for Umanosuke?"
He takes an enormous swallow of food, lifting the bowl to his mouth, scraping in the last bits of toppings.
"Couple years now."
Jin sets down his chopsticks, neatly setting aside his bowl. Just like a proposal meeting at work . Except the men usually sitting opposite him don't quite look like this man.
"As you may know, he runs several hostess clubs. A woman I know, her husband is in debt to him. So she says. I've seen him with your boss before, it's not the sort of relationship where he's afraid. More like they've made a deal of some kind. I've tried to help her but it's almost as if she's too frightened, like she can't leave. Her husband is up to something. I'd like your help… to scare some information out of him."
Mugen perks up at this, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking at Jin with something like approval.
"Now you're talkin' my language. Scarin' creeps is my specialty ."
"Are you not loyal to your boss?"
He can tell this is a loaded question by the way the smile falls from his mouth, a line forming between his brows.
"Maybe a few years ago I owed him one for…well, let's just say the way I see it, I've paid him back my fair share by now. I'm loyal to the money."
"This would involve threatening a man you've never met before." Jin clarifies, watching Mugen closely. "He could get violent. He could send other men after you. I can promise you no safe haven in that case."
"Bring it on then." Mugen says again, a grin appearing once more. "I hate when they're pussies about it, but can you handle that little scenario? I'm not saving your ass either."
"I've won several championships in school for kendo. I'm familiar with hand to hand as well. Also, you and I have fought before. You can attest to my capabilities."
"I went easy on you then. Felt bad for you. You're so sickly I thought you had some sort of disease ."
Jin balks at this, frowning.
"That was a fair fight and if anything I went easy on you."
Mugen throws his head back laughing.
"Fine. Once this is over you and I fight it out and see who's the best. I'll even use one of your cute wooden swords so I don't kill ya'."
"Agreed."
Jin feels that same strange presence of camaraderie. No, I don't want you to die either . Which is bizarre because of course he wouldn't.
"So how much you payin' me for this?"
"...Paying?"
Mugen leans forward. "Somethin' you need to know about me: I don't do shit for free. I need cold hard cash for this little rendezvous or I'm out."
Jin sighs. What happened to that spirit of friendship they almost had there for a moment? Why did he think he would do this for free? For the thrill of the fight? Out of obligation because a woman is being forced?
"I can pay you after my next check hits. You have my word…and incidentally my address as well if you feel so inclined to make sure I stay true to that word."
"Good."
Mugen frowns again, stirring the dregs of his broth distractedly.
"Hey uh, this chick you're doing this for…you into her?"
"Yes."
He begins to shred a paper napkin in his hands. He seems to be struggling with something, like saying what's on his mind is physically impossible. He sighs, glaring up at the ceiling like it owes him money, breathing through his nose.
"So then, with Fuu, you're not—you don't—"
Jin takes a breath, catching on to what he's suggesting.
"Oh, no, but I do care for her wellbeing. She's very… innocent."
He says this pointedly, sternly and Mugen just stares at him blankly.
"Yeah, and?"
"And so I wouldn't want her to get hurt."
Mugen rolls his eyes, flicking bits of the napkin he's torn apart across the table, one of them hits his forehead and bounces back.
"I'm not gonna hurt her."
"Not intentionally."
"What're you, her dad?"
"No, her friend."
He begins to stack his plates and bowls somewhat haphazardly, poking the leaning tower.
"Haven't known her for long but I worry that I'm being too…or that she won't…never mind. As long as you're not trying to bang her I don't care."
Is he looking for advice?
"Have you made your intentions clear? Beyond the physical?"
Mugen's face contorts in confusion.
"Huh?"
"You can't just use physicality with her and expect her to understand your feelings. You need to be direct with clear communication. She'll expect that of you."
"That's where you're wrong." his face becomes unbearably smug, pressing a hand to his chest. "My physicality speaks for itself. No words needed."
Jin shakes his head in somber recognition of a man too driven by bodily desires to see what a woman wants.
"You are setting yourself up for a great deal of disappointment, but I see you won't listen to reason."
Mugen snorts at this.
"Yeah excuse me for not taking advice from a guy messing around with a married woman."
Ah. Fair enough.
They exchange numbers and Jin pays for the exorbitant amount of food Mugen ordered. Privately he thinks part of what he'll need to pay him later will come from this lunch.
"I'll send you a date and time when I know more. Don't bring any weapons." He eyes the sword on his back. "We should be as inconspicuous as possible."
It's obvious he resents this but grumbles out in agreement.
"I mean it. Nothing."
Mugen draws an invisible halo around his head, pushing back from the table.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there."
They separate and Jin watches him walk away. The baking sun doesn't feel as oppressive now that he's full of food and a plan. He thinks of Shino, she'd like this story. She'd like to hear about him doing something new, unexpected. This is about as unexpected for him as calling out of work is times a thousand. Following a sword-carrying man across the city, bribing him with lunch, making plans for activity that's 100% illegal. He'll tell her all about it later on, when things calm down. Or perhaps he'll take a page from Mugen's book and use physicality instead.
She might like that more.
Fuu waits by the side entrance, ready to beckon him to her before Mama-san sees. She changed into a short yellow dress with gauzy, see-through sleeves to match her nails. She even matched it to her bra and underwear and wonders if he'll appreciate that effort or if he'll be disappointed there's nothing underneath like before.
All day she's thought of what to say, summoning up every bit of courage she can to ready herself for him. All day and she's still taken aback at the sight of him. Something weak and fluttery goes haywire inside of her. He gets one look at her and a blazing look comes over his face. All of her practiced words fall away from her head.
He pulls her around the corner at once, pressing her against the wall before she has a chance to get a word out. He cradles her jaw with one hand, urging her mouth open for him. She does it at once. Her body is blindly obedient even when her mind is screaming at her to get a grip. I'm supposed to be telling him no! To wait!
But resisting him is like turning away from a plate of food. Impossible. He gives her a long, probing kiss full of heat and promise. She pulls back once and he follows her mouth. She smiles, pressing a hand gently to his chest.
"Mugen, wait—"
He pulls back.
"You nervous?"
"N-no, it's not that, it's—"
He nuzzles against her neck, his other hand pulling her against him, rough fingers digging into her hip.
"Cause' you know I'll make you feel good too."
She feels a hot throb of warmth at that and she leans into him for a dizzy second, enjoying the feeling of him pressing against her. She feels this along with…a vibration?
She looks up at him in question and he reaches down between them to pull his phone from his pocket. His mouth closes in a grim line as he flips it open, reading a message there.
"God damnit. Cock-blocking son of a bitch."
She looks around, trying to cover his filthy mouth.
"Mugen shhh!"
"It's my boss. I'll try to be back soon."
She nods weakly. He looks down at her again.
"You uh…you look good. Pretty. Pretty good."
She blinks up at him and before she can thank him, he pulls her back to assault her lips with another furious kiss before pulling himself away.
Thoroughly flustered, she leans against the wall, trying to calm the hammering of her heart. She smiles to herself.
She sees mama-san waiting outside of her door and immediately feels guilty, worried she'd been caught, but the older woman just looks confused.
"Who's in there?"
Fuu thinks for a moment, "No one that I know of. I don't have any appointments until 9:00."
Mama-san opens the door to peer in and her face goes pale. Fuu rushes to her side and feels her own skin go cold.
A man in a dark suit and eyepatch waits on the couch, one hand draped around the stem of a glass, the other patting the space beside him.
His one good eye feasts on her.
"Himawari, " Umanosuke purrs with a sickly sweet smile, "Have a seat."
