All Mugen can think is: you haven't even tried it yet it can't be that bad.

"You uh… you okay?" he asks.

Fuu wipes her eyes with the heel of her hands, a fresh torrent running down her cheeks. She looks up at him through puffy red eyes.

"You know how to cook?"

"What, you think I'm too dumb or somethin'? I was the only one at the damn orphanage I grew up in that could make something that didn't taste like ass."

She blinks up at him, her eyes going wide and round.

"You grew up in an orphanage!?"

He groans inwardly. Usually this little sob story makes for a nice segue into getting a decent pity-fuck, but since she's already distraught he knows it'll just make her more hysterical. Sentimental, too.

"Yeah, but it ain't a big deal. Now eat."

"Oh—oh Mugen ." She hiccups and then takes a shaky spoonful of soup, dissolving once more into tears. "It's really g-good!"

"You on the rag or somethin'?" he asks bewildered.

The outraged look she gives him lacks venom because she has to take a tremulous sniff to compose herself.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Taketomi. Little island in Okinawa. The place I came from was shut down a while back though. Came up here not long after."

"Oh. I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry." Her voice is small and unbearably sweet. He looks away.

"Don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything."

She shrugs a little mumbling. "I know. I guess… I just feel bad that you had to grow up in a place like that and that…you know."

No one wanted you. But it's not her voice in his head; it's his own. Even he knows she wouldn't agree with that. Too damn good and nice .

"It's fine." He says gruffly. "Growin' up in a shitty living situation just makes you stronger."

"That's not always true." she says quietly, chasing a piece of tofu around the bowl with her spoon. "Sometimes it makes you worse because then everyone thinks you can handle everything . I took care of my mom by myself when she got sick, right up until she died. Everyone told me how much they admired me for being so brave and strong. Like I had any other choice. I hate being told how strong I am. I'm not strong; I'm tired."

He understands being tired; being the only one left to give a shit because someone has to. She's right, people see you like that and they got no issue with dumping every other problem they have on you . The fact that she understands pisses him off. Someone failed her. Multiple people by the sounds of it. It makes him want to gather her in his arms and hold her, which isn't something he's ever wanted. He doesn't even know if he could. That's not the type of holding he's familiar with. He can't fuck the sadness out of her, but he can cook for her. That's something, right?

He really must be losing it.

It's her that's driving him crazy. It doesn't help that she looks so goddamn cute wearing his jacket, with her lacy underwear peeking out from underneath, taking tiny sips of soup. He wishes she wasn't crying though. Doesn't food usually make people happy? The brats at the orphanage stopped their crying when he cooked. It's the one nice thing he's good at and it still can't help her.

She's the exact opposite of everything he looks for in a woman. For one: he wants her for more than a night which in itself is already bizarre because relationships strike him as time-consuming and useless. He gets bored easily. He's not one of those guys who gets whipped by a woman. No way. He hates the idea of being tied down and turned into a bitch, but something about her makes him feel like it wouldn't be like being tied down at all; more like roots taking hold someplace warm, healthy, in the sun.

She picks up the bowl and he's pleased to see her draining the rest of it. Her eyes are still swollen, but dry for now at least. She sets it back town, taking a shaky breath.

"Thank you, it was really good. I—" she stops and closes her eyes. "I'm sorry for being so confusing when you're so nice, but I really can't see you anymore after tonight. It's best for both of us that way, trust me."

She stands and goes to a tall, cluttered dresser across the room and pulls out an oversized shirt. She pulls off his jacket and puts it on, handing his jacket back to him.

"I'm not nice." He grumbles, taking it from her and pulling his still-damp shirt down from where she hung it. throwing the jacket on over the top.

"You're nice to me." she mumbles. "And I don't even deserve it."

As far as doors slammed in his face, hers ranks somewhere near the very bottom in terms of dramatics because she watches him through the crack with an apologetic smile before she shuts it. It doesn't even make a noise when it shuts. He turns back to walk down her street. It's quieter now; just the sound of traffic in the distance, water dripping into silver puddles under the streetlights.

She doesn't like him. She doesn't want to see him anymore because she likes someone else.

He doesn't buy it.

You don't like me, fine. What's liking me got to do with fucking me? He can deal with the newfound and very annoying realization that he might want more than she does from him. Fine. But her little admission about liking Jin is over the line in his mind. Way over the line. It's a waste of goddamn feelings is what it is. Four-eyes is preoccupied with his own hostess and if he knows what's good for him he'll always stay preoccupied with her.

The little tramp likes Jin, but pulls him inside her apartment out of the rain. She likes Jin but who's dick does she grind on?

He nearly saw stars when she did that.

She's using him? Mugen is well acquainted with both being used and doing the using. You don't do the shit she does if you're just using someone. He'll grant that maybe she does like the wannabe samurai, but she also likes him. Physically at least. He can work with that for now.

The way she looks at him sometimes—he can barely let himself look back, like staring into the sun. He thinks of her tilting his head back, frowning over every little scar. What kind of girl carries around band aids just in case someone gets hurt? Cries over soup? She tries to play tough, like she doesn't care, but fails spectacularly. Learning that she took care of her dying mother all by herself comes as no shock.

You'll take care of everyone else, but who takes care of you? Why do I even give a shit?

He reaches a hand into his pocket and is surprised to find a hole he's used to feeling there is gone. Frowning, he turns it inside out, lifting it up under a streetlight to get a better look. Along the seam is a neat row of stitches where the tear used to be. He's lost a lot of change through it over the years. It's always irritated him but he's never wanted to get it fixed; too attached to it to let it go or let anyone else touch it. He just thought he'd wear it until it wore out into rags. As he turns it, the thread catches the light; it's pink. He stares at it for a solid minute.

Oh, God damn it.

He's fucked.


More than two weeks go by from when she shut the door on him. They're long and he's filled with a strange sickness that won't let him sleep. It makes him moody, listless, irritated.

Every time he tries to see her, he's turned away. The old hag who runs the place gives him a dirty look whenever he shows up. She's booked. She's busy. Go home. He just wants to see her. He could follow her home since he knows where it's at now, but for some reason he feels weird about doing it. It's not the morality part of it, but rather imagining any scenario in which she lets him in out of pity rather than want. Or worse if she doesn't open the door at all. A strange sort of indecision paralyzes him when he thinks about it. It's frustrating because usually he'd act without thinking, but something's changed.

It's not like he has much time to do anything about it anyway; Umanosuke has been running him ragged lately. Not just hitting people up for owed money, but endless sketchy meetings all hours of the day. These are the worst because he's just supposed to sit there looking intimidating when he'd rather be taking a nap. It's not hard to look mean when he's constantly low on sleep and suffering from being involuntarily abstinent. He always looks pissed off. He tunes out Umanosuke's droning about rising numbers and 'new opportunities.'

"I'm expanding my empire." He declares to Mugen one afternoon after they leave one of these meetings. The shitty car they've taken parks out in front of his office, sputtering black clouds of exhaust fumes as it comes to a halt. For someone whose 'empire' is expanding, he still has the worst crap. He's seen Yakuza crime bosses with nice cars, limousines—the fancy shit. Everything Umanosuke owns is second and third hand garbage because he's so cheap. So it's hard to take him seriously when he winks at Mugen as he shuts the door. "Keep listening in on these meetings; learn something. Under my tutelage you might just keep going up and up."

Mugen just sighs, nodding along like he's paying attention.

Kagetoki shakes his head at this as Umanosuke disappears inside.

"His empire."

Mugen is surprised by the blatant disgust in his voice. He's always had the impression the old guy at least liked working for him. He does everything he asks without question, even chauffeuring him around. He's been more involved with these little empire-expansion meetings recently too. Unlike Mugen however, he always seems to be listening in with rapt attention, sharp eyes taking everything in.

"Petty scams and money laundering." He continues, "bankrolled by criminals who rank so much higher than him he's viewed as nothing more than a cockroach. Easily replaceable."

"You sayin' he's all talk or somethin'?" Mugen asks.

"Is this the life you want?" Kagetoki asks, ignoring him. He's taken aback by the question.

"Huh?"

A buzzing chorus of cicadas strikes up. Kagetoki's look is full of warning.

"The farther along you're dragged by that man, the harder it'll be to dig yourself out. Remember that."

More of his fuckin' riddles. He's getting dragged along too. He watches him leave and leans back against the vehicle staring straight up into the cobalt sky.

The heat feels good on his skin, sinking in bone-deep; it brings him back to being a kid and taking walks along the craggly stone walls dripping in red hibiscus. Palm fronds and yew casted black shadows onto the bleached sandy paths. Here noise is incessant, but the island was serene, just wind through the trees, the occasional squawk of a bird, or kids yelling in the distance. Back then he resented that solitude; the feeling that he was stuck someplace in time. If he had known one of those days would have been his last there under the sun he would have savored it more.

He'd often skip class to explore overgrown corners, the less maintained pathways that were unattractive to tourists, where wild ferns twisted around old shisa statues. He liked to imagine he found places no one else had walked for years, spending hours there alone. At night he'd sneak out from his window to sit outside and listen to the waves hiss against the sand. It was so quiet. He could hear everything at night. Sometimes too much.

He doesn't think about it much now. Not if he can help it. Fuu's weepy eyes at his admission to growing up in an orphanage has made him more reflective. It wasn't really bad —not the early years at least. When summer hits its peak he gets nostalgic for it. Sometimes he thinks he'd like to go back, but that's not possible now. He left on bad terms. The worst terms.

A burst of Denkibou's laughter floats down from the second story, joining the screeching of cicadas and endless traffic.

The life he wants.


Jin taps at his keyboard, ignoring the insistent buzzing that sends his phone into a circle on his desk. His coworker next to him shoots curious glances his way, watching the progression of his phone rattle against the divider between them.

"Are you going to answer that?"

"I will when it's break time." he murmurs.

His coworker frowns, checking his watch.

"It's only a minute till."

And he'll wait the full minute because he knows exactly who is blowing up his phone in the middle of a work day. The number on the bottom corner of his computer screen hits 2:00. He waits until 2:01, just to be petty, before rolling his chair backwards and excusing himself.

He heads to the rooftop where it's empty at this time, most of the other office workers favor the air-conditioned break room this time of year. The day is baking-hot as usual, and he squints in the sunlight, temporarily blinded until his eyes adjust.

Upon flipping open his phone he sees 3 missed calls, 2 voicemails and one angry text light up his screen.

Pick up your goddamn phone.

Ah, Mugen.

He dials him back and Mugen's voice immediately roars into his ear.

"Bout' Goddamn time."

"I'm working." Jin explains, but of course this isn't good enough.

"She won't talk to me."

He sighs, leaning on the railing.

"What would you like me to do about it?" he asks.

He hasn't even been to visit Fuu in a few weeks and dealing with Mugen's love life troubles is not exactly what he'd like to be focused on right now. He's been spending his nights following Shino's ex-husband around to get a better idea of his nightly routines. He's low on sleep and patience.

Truth be told he's been feeling anxious, unsure. Should he even interfere? He's gone through the trouble of following her husband, getting outside help. He could act at any time but there's a part of him that still worries if he's taking this too far. What if she really does want to be rid of him?

"Look I'll—I'll cut the pay rate in half later when I help you with your chick. Just get down here tonight and see if you can make her talk. There's somethin' up with her."

It's his tone of voice that convinces him. He sighs.

And so several hours later, instead of hopping on a train to Ginza, he waits to be greeted by Fuu at the entrance to her club. She escorts him inside.

His first clue that Mugen was right, there is something wrong, comes when she picks at the food he orders her. Usually she inhales it, but tonight there's an undercurrent of nervousness in her. Her hands twist in her lap when she finishes.

"Is there something bothering you?" He asks.

She smiles sadly at him.

"Am I really that obvious?"

She pours him a cup of tea, his usual order when he needs to keep a clear head because he still plans on following Shino's husband after this. He assumed it would be a quick stop in, probably just to listen to her rant about Mugen, but seeing how she's acting he's hesitant to leave at all.

"I do have a problem," she admits, before adding quickly. "But I'm fine! It's just a little stressful that's all."

"I'd be happy to lend an ear." Jin offers, pouring her cup too, sliding it towards her.

"Yeah, the thing is…I wouldn't want to involve you either. Sorry if you're still on your weird 'all hostesses lie' kick but I really have to handle this on my own."

This is beginning to sound strangely familiar to him.

Shino's sad eyes on his, her graceful fingers draped around a glass, her expression tight with anxiety.

"I don't want you to get involved with this. I should handle it on my own."

Is it possible they're in the exact same boat? If that's the case… It's taking a chance but since she's been so forthcoming with him, maybe he owes this much to her.

"You asked me once why I don't leave. It's because I fell in love with a hostess," he admits quietly. "Her name is Shino. I met her in a hostess club in Ginza."

Fuu nearly spits up her tea when he says this, slamming the cup down and leaning forward at once.

"No way! Does she like you too? Are you together? Are you–"

"She's married."


Mugen leans against the wall outside, watching the smoke from his cigarette rise into the humid night air. Jin went in a while ago. He's not sure how long it'll take to get her talking. He wonders if he's a complete idiot for sending in the guy she apparently has feelings for. No, he doesn't wonder; he knows he's a fucking idiot. If he didn't know four-eyes was dead-set on another woman he wouldn't have taken the chance.

The old hag won't let him wait in the lobby because he's not a paying customer so he's stuck outside— probably scaring away other customers. Good . He lied to his boss about where he was going tonight. Told him he needed a night off to clear his head. Well, he'll have plenty of time to clear it while waiting.

"You sure do look bored out here."

He turns to see a beautiful woman smiling at him from the entrance way. He can't remember which flower she's supposed to be. He's had her company a couple of times before but she never did much besides look hot and tease him. Took his money too of course.

" Sumire ." she says, offering her hand for him. He just stares at it. "But I'll let you call me Yatsuha. I'd be willing to give you some company tonight if you're lonely."

"No thanks." he mutters.

Undeterred by his refusal, she steals the cigarette from his mouth, taking a drag from it before sliding back between his stunned lips. She sighs out the smoke.

"That's a shame. Here I thought we could chat about your little sunflower in there."

This captures his attention at once. The smile on her smile is knowing, inviting. He hesitates for half a second. Fuck it.

"Lead the way."


"Is that why you said all hostess relationships are 'built on lies'?" Fuu asks, sounding exasperated after Jin explains the situation. "Did she reject you or something?"

"In so many words." he says, trying not to let his ego become too wounded by the immediate assumption. "I may have taken out a small loan in order to keep seeing her. She was upset by it."

Fuu sighs, looking unusually reproachful.

"Duh! Don't tell me you just expected her to be okay with that sort of thing, right?"

"I see no issue—"

"She doesn't want you going into debt for her!" She explains, pointing a finger at him accusingly. Like he's being scolded . "She's probably worried about the effect that'll have on you! Plus she's married so that's even more stress on her. Didn't you consider the pressure that would put on her?"

"Well, I—"

"And plus, if she has feelings for you on top of all of that, how do you think that makes her feel if she can't act on it?"

He takes an awkward sip of tea, clearing his throat. Shino has insisted time and time again that he did too much for her, he just assumed she was being modest; not that his attention caused her any strain.

He hadn't realized the strain his confession added to her already stressful life.

"I wanted to help her leave her husband. Not just for myself." he adds quickly when Fuu opens her mouth, probably to shout at him. "She doesn't love him, she told me so. But it's like she can't."

"I wonder why?" Fuu asks.

"I get the feeling that she feels unsafe. Like she's being forced to work there. I have a feeling Mugen's boss is involved."

He watches her face carefully as he says this. Fuu is an open book in terms of her emotions. He can almost see the bead of sweat forming on her forehead, the way her eyes carefully avoid his. She shifts in her seat.

"Oh."

Jin leans forward.

"Maybe that scenario is familiar to you?"


Mugen leans back, settling into the couch with a grunt. As Yatsuha enters she dims the lighting until it's low and tinged with red. She sits beside him, brushing her knee against his.

"Something to drink?" She asks.

"Yeah. Cheapest crap you got."

"Nonsense it's on me tonight. I feel like being generous."

He narrows his eyes at this. No hostess is generous for the hell of it, but he's also not going to pass up a free drink.

She's the type of woman before he would have tripped over himself to get to. Into , more like. Her long dark hair is gathered over one shoulder in a ponytail like Fuu's. She's a lot more obvious than Fuu; knows exactly how to use her assets—of which a pair now grabs his attention when she reaches over to pour him a shot. The neckline of her gown is deep sapphire and dips low into her cleavage.

Just enjoy the view.

But his stupid brain can only think of how Fuu would look in something like that. How she'd probably go all red wearing it for him. Or taking it off. This starts a vivid fantasy where she ends up stripping for him.

"Mugen you're staring ." Yatsuha says with a giggle.

He is, but for once it's because he's lost in his thoughts. The casual use of his name catches his attention though.

"You know my name?"

She holds out a drink to him.

"Oh she's mentioned you before."

He takes it, wondering just what she's said about him. Probably complaining about him. He doesn't want to come off too strong asking about her right away. No need to be too obvious. He doesn't care that much anyway.

"I'm so curious about you though." Yatsuha says, giving him a long sultry look. "You work for that other man I've seen you with. He comes poking around here from time to time."

Mugen just grunts in response, throwing back the shot.

"What's he like?"

"I dunno. Fine, I guess." He takes another sip before adding, "Kind of an asshole."

She pours him another shot.

"Tell me more."


Jin listens patiently as Fuu finally breaks down and explains it to him. She's stuck here just the same, paying off her fathers debt, despite being long dead.

"I'm only telling you because I know you'll want to help your hostess." She says quietly, staring down at her entwined hands. "He's dangerous. He threatened me when I said I'd quit. I bet that's the situation your hostess is in too. He didn't just threaten me either. That's why I have to keep doing it by myself. I'll just pay it off and be done with him."

Jin knows this isn't true. Umanosuke strikes him as the type of man who, when given an inch, will take miles. He won't just let her walk away after she's shown she'll fold for him; he'll take and take from her until she's broken. Until she's where Shino is.

"How much did your father borrow?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. He didn't say."

"Then who is to say he'll honor that agreement? He may decide to keep you paying long past when it's been paid off. You'd never know."

"Then that's my problem to deal with." She says softly. "I can't drag anyone down with me. I'll figure it out myself. Just worry about your hostess. I'm sure she's scared too."

He doesn't have to guess who else Umanosuke must have threatened if she's been avoiding Mugen so insistently. She's stupid to try and handle it on her own, but he can't help but to admire her determination to not let anyone else get hurt. Still, she needs help, just like Shino.

The time for inaction is over, Mugen will certainly agree. Despite Fuu's insistence otherwise, he'll have to tell him right away. He's grateful that he's waiting outside. He'll need to lay it out for him, they can make a plan with clear heads on what to do next.


Mugen throws back a shot.

And then another.

And another.

He ends up ranting about everything. Not just Umanosuke and his shitty job, but about Fuu too. How crazy he feels now, how he's losing his mind over her. He rants and rants. Yatsuha lends a sympathetic ear, keeping his glass full, asking the occasional question. He ignores her little touches, the way she leans in to him.

She strokes the sleeve of his jacket, fluttering her eyes up at him.

"Being in love is tough." She remarks with another consoling pat. "Especially when your boss is interfering. He sounds like an awful man."

Being in love . The phrase leaves an unfamiliar taste in his mouth; sickly sweet. It's another one of those things that other people get to experience, not him. Home, family, friends, love—the pieces that have never gone into the core of who he is because he thought he didn't have the slots inside of him for them to fit into.

"Can't be in love with someone you've only known for a month." He says harshly. "m' just horny or somethin'."

Yatsuha's expression becomes oddly sympathetic. She smiles.

"That's not true at all. Sometimes you meet the right person. Your person and you just know."

And you just know.

Didn't Fuu say something like that about him? Sometimes you just know. He's dumb in lots of ways; never book-smart, gets into more trouble than a smart man would. There's not much beyond basic instinct that he understands or just knows, but just knowing fits into how he feels for her.

She's the bright yellow band-aid plastered over an ugly scar. She's the shiny pink thread in his piece of shit jacket, stitching up things other people would have thrown away by now.

He takes another shot, eyes watering. Great, he's in love. The phrase is pure, sappy, sugary, gooey syrup in his brain, getting stuck to everything until he's covered in it. In love.

He doesn't know how long he sits there thinking about it, just until he can't stand it anymore. He needs to leave, get away from it. He exits Yatsuha's room, ignoring her call to be careful as he trips out into the hall and of course this is when he makes immediate eye contact with Fuu. He's been wanting to see her for weeks, he's been dying for it. Her big brown eyes are startled. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

Her eyes slide from him and then to the room he's leaving; the brief flash of hurt across her face causes a swell of guilt. She turns away from him.

He follows her down the hall, trailing a hand along the wall. He was fine when he was sitting down but suddenly walking is a challenge because the world is tilting in odd angles causing him to stumble and sway.

"You need to leave." she hisses over her shoulder at him.

He can't resist, feeling a petty stab of longing.

"You jealous now?" he slurs after her.

Cause' you shouldn't be .

She's wearing that pink dress he likes her in. He's mesmerized watching the hem sway against her bare legs. As he reaches for it he stumbles, catching himself on the wall. She turns back with a worried look; her expression is almost scared. Is she scared of him ? Along with the nausea is another rise of guilt at this thought. He knows he's being a jackass, but it's like he can't stop himself. His brain wants to fix it but his mouth won't listen. It never does.

"You're drunk! You're going to get hurt."

He latches on to her concern like a life raft.

"Thas' right!" He slurs again. "'could fall and crack my head open. Bleed out. Then you'd feel bad. Then you'd care—"

Care about me. Look at me.

He sees it: the distress on her face, the disappointment because she wants to let him down easy because she's just spent the evening with who she really wants to be with. That boring 9-5 asshole . She's regretting ever meeting him, ever wasting her time on him.

" Mugen… "

He corners her against the wall and she lets out a startled squeak. Being this close to her is intoxicating, if the damn world would stop spinning he could touch her better, make her forget what a fuck up he is. He rubs his thumb along her lower lip, trying to focus.

"I'll pay you. I'll pay to see you," he leans down, speaking into her ear, "but if I'm payin' you like a whore ya' better fuck me like one."

Even through the cloud of inebriation it only takes him half a second to realize that this was the wrong thing to say. The worst thing to say. Her face goes cold with indignant fury and she shoves him backwards, his back bumps against the other wall and he groans.

"Aw shit— no, I was just messin'—"

Jin takes one look at the situation.

Fuu glaring at Mugen, tears brimming in her eyes.

Mugen swaying on the spot filled with either regret or vomit. Possibly both.

He grabs the back of Mugens jacket and drags him towards the entrance, ignoring his drunken swipes.

"The fuck'er you doin' fishface?"

"I'll take care of him." He calls out to Fuu.

"Don't wanna go home with you." Mugen slurs. "Lemme go back an' do it right. Think I fucked it up again"

"You'll have plenty of time to regret being an idiot tomorrow." Jin says dryly, disappointed because he was really counting on Mugen having a clear head tonight. Apparently that was a fool's wish on his part. He pulls out his phone to call for a taxi.

Mugen only lets himself be dragged along because standing is becoming dangerous; the ground swoops closer and closer with every step. Before Jin drags him out the last thing he registers clearly are the tears in her eyes.

Liked it better when you cried over my cooking.