Content Warning: Attempted sexual assault, childhood sexual assault, and generally earning the canon-typical violence tag. Please tread carefully if those topics upset you.
The figure who kicks in her door is so tall and imposing that for one wild moment, she thinks it's her father. She doesn't even remember what he looks like; just the shape of his back as he walks away. A door shut in her face. It was never that dramatic. In reality he simply left one day without notice, without explaining where he was going. In her memories he's larger than life, getting more vague and shapeless with time. He became less of a person and more of a reason to feel angry. What did Mugen tell her? Someone to blame? Someone to resent? His eventual return came in the form of a death notice in the mail.
This man easily dodges the freshly-washed dishes she lobs at him, stepping in over the splintered remnants of her door, boots crunching on the glass. She raises another plate, poised to throw.
"That's enough. It's time to go."
There's a finality to his words that says there is no more argument to be had; they both know she has nowhere else to go. Her arm falls limp to her side.
She's ushered outside and into the back of a waiting car that reeks of stale cigarettes. As the door is opened for her, Umanosuke gives her an oily smile from the back seat. He's dressed in a black suit with a white bow tie around his neck. Even his eyepatch is white to match. The clean color next to his sallow skin makes him appear even more sickly and pallid than usual.
"You've been a bad girl playing hooky." He chides, as if he's scolding a naughty child. "That's my money you're losing when you're not at work."
She gets in stiffly and freezes when he reaches across, pulling the seat belt over her lap and securing it in place. She turns her head away, holding her breath. His overpowering cologne lingers in the air, but still can't mask the sourness of his breath. As soon as the other man gets in the driver's seat, the door locks give an ominous click .
"So, what's the deal?" she asks, attempting to tamp down some of the fear in her voice in order to sound more annoyed, "You're already taking money from my paychecks, why'd you drag me out of my apartment?"
"Maybe I just wanted to pluck my favorite sunflower from the garden for the night."
That's not what she wanted to hear. It's the way he's dressed, the way his eyes rove over her, his fingers rubbing together in his lap like he's holding himself back—she has a feeling her door wasn't kicked down just because she missed work.
Her heart sinks, settling somewhere in her stomach where dread ties it into a tight knot. At stoplights she tries to subtly catch the attention of people on the crosswalks, but no one looks her way. She watches them. They walk past in their business suits and skirts. Kids in school uniforms on their way home carrying bright colored backpacks, skipping past happy groups of girls her age heading out for the night. No one can tell she's in trouble and really what could they do anyway? Her only life line to someone who could help is lying on the floor in her kitchen under a pile of broken plates.
"Speaking of sunflowers–Kagetoki-san here knew your father quite well, didn't you?"
He inclines his head conversationally towards the driver who shows no sign that he's even listening. In the rearview mirror his stern eyes are trained forward on the road ahead.
"He's a man of few words." Umanosuke stage whispers to her. "That's alright. I don't pay him to give speeches. I pay him to take care of those who don't pay their debts. He's very good at making sure they're never heard from again…"
He trails off meaningfully, giving her a broad, slow smile. The pit dread in her stomach falls away and keeps falling, taking her along with it. This time when she glances up at the rearview mirror, Kagetoki's eyes meet hers.
The hostess club Shino works at is tucked into a quiet, unassuming corner of a street in Ginza, taking up the first 2 floors of the building there. Despite being surrounded by flashy high-end boutiques and luxury department stores, many people simply pass it by without knowing what lies behind its doors. Its wealthy clientele appreciate the unremarkable outside for the privacy it affords them.
For Jin, passing by these unobtrusive doors causes him pain. Longing, sharp like hunger pains, wracks his stomach. Not to be on the other side of those doors, but to take her from behind them.
"Thought this place was always open?" Mugen complains loudly.
"I thought so too."
Strung across the entrance is a red velvet rope, with a sign saying the club is closed for maintenance. He's never known the club to close, ever. From what he knows about Umanosuke as a businessman, that would mean lost revenue, which he would not allow. Shino never has a day off.
He scans the street. A sleek black vehicle pulls up to the curb and a well-dressed man exits, ducking under the rope to enter. Mugen jerks his thumb over his shoulder.
"Looks like it's open for him. Right. My turn ."
"Wait."
Jin grabs the back of Mugen's collar to pull him from the road, just as a car passes. He groans in frustration, trudging backwards.
"What?"
"Try not to be conspicuous."
"That an insult?"
He suppresses a sigh.
Despite his best efforts, Mugen doesn't look like a wealthy man in pursuit of leisure. He looks like trouble . Even without a blade slung across his back. It doesn't help that he keeps rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles like he's readying himself for a fight. The fact that so much is riding on this man not making a scene makes him nervous. He trusts Mugen's word. He even trusts that he's a good person—trusting his mouth is another story.
"It means: don't draw attention to yourself. I know that may be difficult for you. You seem drawn to displays of grandeur. No unnecessary fights. Find her, bring her to the back exit and you and I will deal with any trouble that arises. Together ."
Mugen shrugs off his concerns, scarred brows furrowing together in annoyance.
"I got it, alright? You gonna confess your undying love for me next or can I go in there and get your woman?"
Jin jerks his head towards the club, watching Mugen stalk away with an ancient sort of weariness touching his soul, as though he's been dealing with these antics for years.
As soon as he ducks in under the sign, Jin makes his way around to the back alley of the club, pausing to step out of the way as a group of loud, drunk businessmen pass. He continues along the perimeter, careful to be quiet when he passes by an open window, the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking floating into the night overhead.
He's mapped this journey dozens of times preparing for this night. He glances at his wrist before remembering he gave his watch to Mugen. He knows when the cleaning crew will exit to empty the trash and take a smoke break, how long the alley will stay empty before the employees at the sushi restaurant next door leave for the evening, even memorizing the pin-code for the back door—all in preparation for a quiet and safe escape for Shino. Even with his precautions, agitation has his muscles coiled tight.
He turns a corner, ready to wait in the shadows until he receives Mugen's call, but the alley isn't empty as it should be. A slender, nervous looking man is having a hushed argument over the phone. He paces the alley, running a hand through his hair. More than any faceless, rich patron who has paid for her time, he hates this man most of all. He's had fantasies about what he'd do if he came across him. All of those feelings he swallows back because he knows it would only cause more trouble for her.
He steps out from the shadows, bathed in the bluish light cast by a street lamp.
"I'd like to speak to you about your wife."
The man jumps in surprise, fumbling as he drops his phone, rushing to pick it back up. He frowns at Jin, holding the earpiece away for a moment.
"She's out of commission, find some other whore."
Jin slams him against the back door of the club before the man knows what hits him, forearm pressed tightly against his throat.
"W-what's your problem —" he coughs.
He ignores the desperate attempt at prying his arm away from his windpipe.
"Explain what you mean by out of commission ."
"H-he said if I sold her I wouldn't owe him anymore, that I'd t-turn a profit. He's doing an auction tonight, a-ah lot of girls here are getting sold!"
"You…sold her." Jin says haltingly.
His grip briefly loosens before he presses into his throat even harder. Her husband's cold fingers claw at his arm, mouth gaping open for breath. It'll take some time, a few minutes maybe, but if he stays like this he'll be dead in less than 5 minutes. An angry, ugly part of him wants to see it; experience the life leaving this coward. No one would miss him, no one would mourn him. It wouldn't be a loss at all. I
All at once, he lets him go. He collapses to the ground on all fours, choking and gasping in lungfuls of air. Jin snatches the fat white envelope peeking out of his pocket, taking a look inside to see just how much a human is worth.
He thumbs through the bills. No amount could truly measure up of course, but it's an insulting amount. No doubt Umanosuke believes he will turn 10 times the profit on her.
Jin stares down at him with contempt.
"Wait! I-I owe that money to some bad guys, some really bad guys. If I don't pay tonight they said they'll come for me they'll—".
"Then come take it." He challenges quietly.
The man hesitates, his face tear streaked and anguished before he bows his head in defeat.
Just as he thought: a coward . He tries to turn away but the man throws himself down once more, clinging onto him.
"Kill me then!" He blubbers, "Please, I-I can't face them empty handed! The things they'll do to me you don't understand—"
He raises a trembling hand to show him where two fingers have been sawed off. The wounds are still angry red and healing. He shudders, breaking off into more sobs.
"Then I have no reason to dirty myself with your blood. "
He kicks her husband aside and punches in the pin code at the door before heading inside, leaving the heap behind him to retch.
Mugen pauses inside the entrance to the club. Maybe it's because he's always been a cheap bastard and couldn't afford the good shit, but this place is a world beyond what he's used to. There's a distinct western feel to the place, ingrained in the dark, rich cognac colored tables and warm chandelier lighting. It even smells expensive.
Not at all his sort of place. Too quiet, too stuffy . He knows for a fact better women and cheaper booze exists in places worth way less than this one. It's a whole lot of money spent on shit that doesn't matter. Pretentious rich people crap .
The woman at the front podium smiles politely, bowing in welcome, even as she looks him up and down critically.
"Welcome sir! Unfortunately, we're closed for a private event."
He rolls with it.
"Whatdya' think I'm here for?"
"Sir, There's a ¥1200000 entrance fee."
He mocks her placid smile before pulling the money from a wallet Jin loaned him. He waves it in the air before tossing them carelessly on the podium before her. She hesitates, but collects the bills, neatly straightening them out before summoning another woman from across the room.
"That's more like it."
She saunters over, tall body clad in a fitted blood red gown with a slit to her hip. When she sees him however, recognition flashes across both of their faces.
He points at her.
"Wait a sec, you're that chick from the other club."
She places her arm in his, pulling him along.
"Let me escort you to a quieter corner, sir ."
He lets her lead him. Each table they pass has at least one ugly old guy in a boring suit surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful women, all simpering to light his cigarette or pour his drink. He spots one old dude who looks like he's the CEO of a bank or something, reaching a hand inside a hostesses' dress, a smattering of giggles follows the display. He scoffs.
Will ya' look at that, he muses sardonically, these guys can act high and mighty but they're no better than the brokest bastards at a shitty dive bar.
Yatsuha directs him into an empty booth, scooting in beside him. He expects some high quality treatment given their surroundings but the first words out her mouth are spoken nearly under her breath.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Needed a night out," he says, leaning back to casually scan the room. "You a flower here too?"
She gives a huff, tapping her long fingernails impatiently on the polished tabletop.
"You certainly picked an interesting night to come here. Isn't this establishment a little out of your price range?"
"What's that supposed to mean? I got in, didn't I?"
Unlike every other time he's spent time with her, there's no warmth in her eyes, pretend or otherwise. She's not fawning all over him or offering him a drink. The mask is off and she's staring at him with an intensity that borders on alarm. If it's annoyance on her part, the feeling is definitely mutual. He doesn't want to be messing around with her, he wants to find Jin's chick so he can hunt Umanosuke down and kick his ass.
She sighs, "Listen, Mugen, you're not a bad guy, but tonight is literally the worst night for you to be wandering in here. I think you should leave before–"
"Don't get your panties in a twist, I ain't here to see you . I'm here to see her."
He pulls out Shino's name card, setting it down on the table to slide before her. He taps the card.
"She should be in room 12. You oughta make yourself useful and let her know she's got a visitor."
Yatsuha glances at it briefly, her mouth going into a grim line. She looks around the room before murmuring to him:
"I think it's a better idea for you to leave and make sure your sunflower is safe."
His eyes narrow.
"The fuck do you mean by that?"
A few people nearby turn to look at them.
"You know somethin' I don't?" he asks, voice rising.
"Will you keep quiet, you idiot? I'm trying to help –"
From the corner of his eye he notices someone approaching their table. He recognizes him as one of Umanosuke's hired muscle. He's had that job before too; prowling the club looking for freeloaders, escorting rowdy customers out when they're causing problems. The ones stuck in the clubs were usually big and dumb, this one is no exception.
He grins up at him.
"Evenin' buddy." he says easily.
"Is there a problem here?" he asks, trying and failing to look impressive, especially in his little bow-tie get up. At least he's not stuck wearing that .
Yatsuha lets out a sultry laugh, placing a placating hand on Mugen's arm.
"Not at all. I think my companion here has just had a little too much to drink. I'll take good care of him."
Mugen shakes her hand off and stands.
"Actually, I gotta take a leak. Where's the bathroom?"
"Right this way-"
He shakes his head.
"I don't need an escort to take a piss ." he mutters. "Just point the way, will ya?"
The bouncer glares at him, but points him towards a far corner.
"Don't take too long."
He holds back the urge to tell the guy to fuck off, he'll take however long he wants, but that would probably give earn him both a lecture from four-eyes and more time wasted when he should be finding Shino, so he keeps his mouth shut.
Once out of sight he pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing Fuu.
He listens to it ring several times before her voicemail plays, her cheery voice hitting his ear.
"Sorry I missed your call! Leave your name and I'll—"
He hangs up and tries again.
"Sorry I missed your call! Leave your—"
He snaps it shut, gritting his teeth.
Goddamn it. Where the fuck are you?
Fuu runs her hands nervously over the smooth sheath of lemon yellow satin she's been forced to change into. It's less of a dress and more a flimsy nightgown that seems at imminent risk of sliding right off. She tries to get the attention of the other women in gowns like hers, hoping maybe her panic will alert them, but like her they seem frightened and unwilling to talk.
At one point they're all made to stand in a line while someone snaps a photo of each of them. She blinks rapidly as the bright flash momentarily blinds her. He removes the Polaroid, scribbling something on the bottom before sliding it into a plastic sleeve.
"Hey, what did you write on that?" She demands.
A girl in a green gown next to her hisses for her to shut up.
She only got the faintest glimpse of the place before she was ushered into the dressing room. From the sound of some of the conversations she overhears, it's a hostess club. It definitely isn't like the one she works at.
Umanosuke eventually arrives to escort her down the hall, not before squeezing her wrist to the point of pain, whispering that if she tries to make a scene he'll tape her mouth shut. She marches ahead of him, nearly stumbling over her feet in effort to keep from feeling his hand graze her lower back as he guides her forward.
They arrive at a heavy, lacquered door. He unlocks it, pointing her inside.
The room is both cozy and elegant with plush couches and a fireplace. There's a wet bar across the room with a mirrored table bearing amber bottles of top-shelf liquor and crystal glasses. What fills her with dread however, is the enormous canopy bed situated in the center of the room, with silk sheets and gossamer netting billowing out from the mirrored ceiling.
It's only a small comfort when he settles down on the couch, gesturing to the bar.
"Help yourself."
"No thanks."
He chuckles.
"Let me rephrase: help yourself to help me ."
She stomps over to the bar, snatching a fluted glass from the counter. She spins the top off of the first bottle she comes across and hastily pours him a drink, spilling it over the side. He accepts it with a somewhat bemused smile, raising it to eye level to examine.
"Most people don't pour brandy into a champagne glass, you know."
Yeah I don't want a lecture on what's normal from you, you creep.
He raises the glass, as if toasting her before taking a long drink, his eye never wavering from her. He sets it down and smiles.
"Now, Fuu, I hope you'll forgive me. The truth is, as a general rule, I stop worrying about the debts clients owe me once they're dead."
It's another dull punch to her empty stomach. He has no reason to tell her this other than to hurt her and unfortunately it's working. She thought she was done with that part of her life. She's been angry with her father for years now. He left her to care for her dying mother alone . No matter how it happened, he still made the decisions that led him to his death. He chose to borrow money from Umanosuke, he chose to be reckless, he chose to walk out that door.
But maybe , a tiny whimper of a voice in her head reasons, maybe those choices weren't easy. Maybe leaving was his way of protecting us from this man.
Well, she thinks bitterly, he failed then .
Umanosuke's expression seems to light up when she can't hide her turmoil.
"It may make me sound like a romantic, but I believe in fate and fate placed you in my path. The beloved daughter of a man who owed me money. The more I thought about it, the more I knew you belonged to me."
"I don't belong to you." she says vehemently.
He sighs, folding his hands in his lap.
"You're correct. I auctioned you off. In a few short hours you'll belong to someone else."
Auctioned off?
He stands, this time walking past her to pour himself a drink. She refuses to look back at him, instead sizing up the situation. If he's pawned her off on someone else, then she should make a run for it the moment she changes hands. She won't step foot in another strange vehicle, she won't let him take her anywhere else. This thought soothes her. The sooner this happens, the better.
"So why am I here?" she asks, hoping the biting edge to her voice hides her shivering. "Why aren't I with the creep who bought me?"
"Because I haven't had my fun with you yet."
She startles when he approaches her from behind. He lifts her hair from her neck, inhaling deeply with a shuddering sigh. The second his disgusting lips touch her shoulder she knows that plan has gone right out the window. She has to fight now .
She elbows him in the gut, making a mad dash for the cart to grab one of the heavy liquor bottles, intending to smash it over his head, but knocks over the mirrored table in her haste, sending the bottles and glasses shattering across the floor. He lifts her easily, hoisting her over his shoulder.
"I have a lot of money riding on this sale." he huffs, tossing her down onto the mattress. "But I deserve a taste first—"
A cold hand snakes around her ankle, yanking her to the end of the bed. Her dress is hopelessly flimsy, rising to her hips as he tugs her down. She turns on her stomach, kicking wildly, trying to claw her fingers into the sheets, but she can't maintain purchase on the silk long enough before he pulls her back down again.
She manages to crawl to the edge, reaching to the ground for the broken stem of a wine glass. Just as he pulls her back towards him, she stabs it into his arm with a cry. She was aiming for his face, but for some reason she closed her eyes as she swung.
He roars in pain, wrenching it from her hands and slaps her hard across the face. She's thrown down on the ground this time, flat on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. For several empty seconds she struggles to inhale, a burst of black spots blurring her vision.
"Do you want to know what your father said before he died?"
His knees hold her arms down as he quickly removes his bowtie, jerking it from his neck, breathing heavily as he jams it into her mouth to muffle her screaming.
"...he just wanted to take his little girl to see the sunflowers. I never forgot that. Such heartwarming last words."
She glares up at him, blinking back furious tears as she shakes. He begins to unbuckle his belt. At some point he'll get distracted and she's going to claw his remaining eye out.
Anything else is unthinkable.
Mugen walks the halls, looking for the number to Shino's door. He'll need to make this quick. He doesn't have a good feeling about Yatsuha's warning and Fuu still won't answer her damn phone.
He stops in front of her door, shooting Jin a text letting him know to be ready.
He turns the doorknob, slipping inside.
Like the rest of the place it's a warm, old fashioned European-style room complete with oil lamps that cast an eerie gold glow. They're the only source of light in the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The hair on the back of his neck stands: something feels off .
Shino is strapped down to a four poster bed in the center of the room. He steps forward to untie her, but her eyes are wide in panic, jerking to direct him to look over his shoulder just as the door slams shut behind him.
"Muuugen! "
That all too familiar, annoying sing-song voice is the stuff of nightmares. He turns to see Denkibou grinning at him.
The little weirdo has always given him the creeps, now more than ever as he strokes his twitchy fingers across a varied assortment of knives displayed in front of him on a metal tray, his eyes wide in delight. Across the room Toube watches the scene with his signature dead-eyed expression, silent and still from his wheelchair. An obvious audience member to the sick show he's just walked in on.
"What that fuck is goin' on?"
"You've just interrupted my birthday gift." Denkibou says with a high pitched giggle. "That was rude of you."
Mugen's eyes dart to Shino, then to the knives the freak is still lovingly caressing. Doesn't take a genius to figure out just what he's interrupted.
Denkibou gives a rueful shake of his head.
"She'll be next. I can't pass this up. I've been looking for an excuse to have some fun with you ."
He takes a step back as Denkibou carefully selects a long, cruel, curved blade from the table, practically salivating when he turns back. He sways on the spot, speaking to himself in a long string of nonsensical run-on sentences.
"I've been good for so long–decades—how much longer? I can't– It isn't fair , it's only right that I do this. I get my chance. I finally get my chance to get him. He told me to wait. To wait…but—but I don't think I can help myself."
He launches himself forward with a euphoric screech, slashing indiscriminately, expression manic, stringy, blonde strands swaying in his face. Mugen narrowly misses one wild swipe at his stomach. He jumps back, grabbing one of the cushions from a couch to block the next one, sending a cloud of feathers into the air.
Denkibou cackles maniacally, blade slicing through the air and fluff. Mugen's head whips side to side, looking for something to use, cursing Jin for insisting he not bring any weapons. So much for being inconspicuous.
He spots a decorative sword hanging on the wall above a fireplace. He sprints for it, leaping over a wing-back chair, knocking over a lamp in the process. His fingers close around the hilt, but the yellow rat is quick; knocking it from his hands before he can unsheath it. The two fall to the ground. In a flash a blade is held to his throat and Mugen goes still, glaring up at him.
The edge of the blade trails up his neck to his chin, tracing playful, mock patterns in his skin.
"You've been a good dog." He croons, pressing the edge of the blade along his cheek and back down, hovering over his hammering pulse point. No more dancing humor is left in his eyes, just cold insanity.
"I wonder how many girls I'll get to play with tonight." He says with an excited giggle, "Maybe your little hostess after this one… but then again, she might be all used up —"
Mugen sees it happen before Denkibou even notices anything is wrong. The sound of quick, quiet footsteps across the floor is followed by a jolt to his body. The blade in his hand clatters to the ground as he coughs, spilling a fresh torrent of blood over his lips and chin.
Jin withdraws the sword with a swift, clean pull, leaving Denkibou to crumple on top of him.
Mugen heaves him off in disgust. Once he stands, he gives the limp body a vicious kick.
"Fucking psycho." he spits.
He looks at Jin appraisingly. For just having killed a man he's surprisingly calm. It also occurs to him that he's just saved his life.
"It was the right thing to do."
"I ain't complainin'."
Both of them jump when they hear glass shatter from behind him. Toube has knocked over one of the old fashioned looking kerosene lamps that was sitting near him, sending flames licking up the fabric walls, dangerously near a table of alcohol.
"You gotta be kidding me."
He picks up one of the knives that fell from the metal tray, nodding at Shino.
"Take her and get out of here, I need to find Fuu—"
She must be here.
After the chaos inside the room, the quiet hall with its gleaming floors and soft lighting puts him on edge. The doors he passes hide muffled conversations, laughter, moaning…only one doesn't sound normal.
His steps slow to a halt. He recognizes something about those noises. Not the same ones, but they might as well be for the reaction they elicit in him. It's instantaneous; one second he's there the next he's a teenager again. Instead of a hostess club it's the halls of the orphanage he grew up in.
The last night of his childhood.
He wanders in late, long past lights out. He lit a tea candle before he left. It flickered in one of the hall windows on the second floor. One small bright spot to guide him back on a night so dark that even the stars seemed dim, the moon absent. On his return he goes to blow it out but his steps slow as he passes by one of the bedrooms. At that time of night all should have been quiet, but one of the doors is slightly ajar.
A hushed reprimand. Muffled pleading.
He sees Mukuro first.
The two never got along. They're both around the same age, have the same attitude problems, the same bullshit childhood, but Mukuro has a certain meanness to him that always rubbed Mugen the wrong way. Not meanness in defense, not as a way to keep other people out, but used to lash out senselessly. Mugen has caught him being cruel to the youngest kids there, stealing their food, tripping them so they'll scrape their knees, laughing at their tears. He's even caught him kicking some of the few, bony stray dogs that wander the neighborhood looking for scraps.
The two have gotten in fights many times before. Never in sight of any of the teachers. They're both smart enough to know that they have to deal with it somewhere on a beach when no one else is around. It never does any good; Mugen can't beat that sort of meanness out of him, no matter how hard he tries.
He places his palm flat on the door, pushing it open the rest of the way.
Mukuro has one of the younger girls pinned face-down into the twin-sized mattress. The faded sheets beneath her struggling body are wet; there's another dark spot of drool and tears on the pillow where her head rests, facing the door.
She turns her glassy, tear-filled eyes onto him. If he thought he and Mukuro were alike at all, she must think the same for how terrified she becomes when she sees him. Her eyes widen and then shut tightly in resignation. Huddled in a corner of the room are two other kids who look too stunned to speak, hiding under thin blankets that tremble and shake. He learns later that they knew better than to call for help because they were likely the next targets. Mukuro is never satisfied with just one.
But this would be his last.
The older boy looks up when Mugen steps in and instead of looking ashamed or even scared that he's been caught, he waves him over with a smile. An actual smile .
"Want in on this when I'm done?"
Like it's a fucking buffet.
Time moves in quick, disjointed zaps, brief flashes of color and sound.
One moment he's in the hall, the next he's got Mukuro on his back on the floor. The boy barely has time to fight back— nothing more than a surprised shout, arms raised in defense. It probably helps that he isn't expecting it nor the violent crack his head takes when he slams him into the ground repeatedly. The two struggle briefly. Mugen rolls him back over and slams his head against the ground again. This time his eyes go out of focus and he lets out an eerie groan.
It's not enough.
Every time his fist pulls back it's bloodier than before. Soon it isn't just blood but sticky bits of gore that cling to his skin. The wet sound of him hammering into Mukuro's skull is accompanied by thin, labored breathing—and then nothing at all. He never even notices when Mukuro's arms fall limp, nor when his face no longer looks human. He doesn't notice that it's just him and a corpse, too long gone, lost to abject rage and grief.
One of the kids must have gone to get help and in the process knocked over his candle. The orphanage was old and the flames spread easily, devouring the rotten wood. Soon the whole place goes up in flames.
All he sees is red.
Someone pulls him off of Mukuro's body eventually, dragging him from the building. Sometimes he'll get a flash in his nightmares of the mess he left behind. A mangled, caved in face obscured by smoke. It's good that his body burned along with the orphanage; no one else should have to see that but him. It was his mess after all. He's still trying to clean it up.
He remembers more fragmented pieces on this horrible trip down memory lane: the wail of sirens, chaos as the one small, volunteer fire department tries to respond to the blaze. There's a fleeting glimpse of an old woman swinging a mat at the flames licking up the ancient walls outside. The fire reflects in the eyes of every stunned kid from the orphanage, standing outside in their hand-me-down, holey pajamas and Ill-fitting slippers while the one tentative place they called home burns to the ground.
It was his home too.
Several adults have a hushed conversation about him. Some worry he'll run, some worry he'll start attacking the other kids. No one speaks up for him. No one explains what happened and he doesn't bother trying either. No one seems to know exactly what to do with him. They settle on sticking him in the back of a boat, handcuffed around a rail to be taken to the mainland for processing.
He lets them.
The ride is almost peaceful, no one talks to him. No one looks at him. He has one stray, child-like thought about the boat sinking with him still cuffed to the rail; he'd sink along with it into the cold waves. No one would dive in to save him. Who would even bother?
He watches the island disappear behind brackish waves, ivory smoke rising into the black sky. He knew it would be the last time he'd be seeing it. He always dreamed of a reason to leave that quiet world behind. Now he's leaving it worse than he found it because that's what he does.
It's by chance that Umanosuke spots him as he's being processed at the nearest jail. He speaks to one of the guards, letting out a low, impressed whistle when he learns exactly what Mugen has done. A harsh contrast to the looks of horror and disgust that usually follow.
He slaps an arm on his back, whispering in his ear that he's only a call away if he needs a life-line out of a life in prison. Mugen numbly accepts his business card, holding it gingerly in his broken hands.
He's sent to change and place his soiled clothing into a plastic evidence bag. In the sterile bathroom he stands in front of the mirror staring at himself. Shell-shocked and mute. No waves to sink beneath, no roar of an engine to block his thoughts. Against the white tiled room he's a feral mess—smeared with dirt and soot. There's a smattering of blood freckled across his face, down his neck and arms. He claws at his cheek, leaving angry marks down his face and dried blood beneath his fingernails. He always was a little wild. The outside finally matches the inside: a mutt needing to be put down.
It's a split-second burst of memories. He's in such a trance that when he kicks in the door, it's not really him in command of his body anymore; it's the mutt from that night.
Fuu cranes her neck, seeing the unmistakable form of Mugen upside down, framed by the door. She lets out a muffled sob of relief.
Umanosuke's body is torn from hers. She flips over, pulling the necktie from her mouth. She cuts herself on one of the broken bottles in the process of trying to scramble to her feet.
At her cry of pain, Mugen's head snaps up to look at her just as she pulls the shard from her palm. Their eyes meet for half a second before he turns slowly, looking back at Umanosuke, eyes black with fury.
Umanosuke, tries to stand as he clumsily refastens his belt, but stumbles backwards, trying to maintain distance between himself and Mugen's slow prowl towards him.
"I'm touched," he says, the mock bravado in his voice shaky, "I never thought you'd throw away your entire future for some whore. I thought better of you."
Teeth bared he rushes at Mugen, eye bloodshot and wild. Mugen is faster though, dodging easily. He's on him, taking him by surprise and in one fluid motion he pulls a knife seemingly from thin air.
She has no idea what's going on until she hears Umanosuke's cries abruptly morph into a long shriek of anguish. It's only when Mugen steps aside that she sees the blade protruding from his eye. He falls to the ground, hands grotesquely contorted around the handle.
Mugen looks supremely unconcerned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before reaching down and wrenching the blade from his skull with a twist.
He's killing him. This seizes her with fear. He'll go to jail. They won't care that he was protecting her; they'll take one look at him, at whatever he's done before and he'll be finished. She'll never see him again.
"Wait! Wait, Mugen– wait! "
She tries to pull him back but he's single minded, still trying to pin Umanosuke's thrashing body down.
Jin arrives in time to help pull him away, knocking the knife from his hands.
"That's enough." he commands harshly. "He's finished."
"Please we need to leave." she cries.
Her voice breaks on the last word. She tries to pull the two of them from the room. Numbly she knows they need to go before someone comes and catches them. She glances back at Umanosuke, whose cries have gone hoarse and shrill, crawling across the floor, letting out punctuated shrieks when he crawls across the broken glass, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
"We need to go before…before–"
"This way." Jin grabs her wrist, pulling her from the room with Mugen following closely behind.
The three run down the halls where smoke has begun to billow out from one of the rooms, snaking along the ceiling. Several women rush by along with men in suits, coughing into their sleeves. She's relieved to see the girls she was waiting with also making their hurried escape just as the sprinkler system goes off.
Fuu slams into Jin's back as he makes a sudden stop just before the back exit.
Kagetoki is blocking the way out.
Both Mugen and Jin both take a step forward but he doesn't move. He's looking at her. She stares right back, shivering under the spray of water, willing him to move, to let them go, to do something .
Several tense seconds pass before he steps aside, allowing them to exit without a fight.
They pass him quickly, with Mugen pulling her protectively around him as they do. She still has Kagetoki in her sight, turning to look at him again as they leave. His expression held so much for her. Regret, resignation. Somehow she knows it was an apology, letting her escape like that. It was his small way of trying to make up for the impossible.
The sound of sirens are closing in, blaring through the balmy night. Shino waves them over past a crowd that gathers on the other side of the street, people whispering, whipping out their phones to snap photos.
They make it to the train station nearby. Mercifully it's mostly empty this late at night. They catch their breath, all four of them looking like a ragged mess.
Before anyone can say anything, Mugen pulls back and punches Jin square across the face.
Fuu shrieks as Jin stumbles back, clutching his chin.
"If you had let me bring a fuckin' weapon—"
"They wouldn't have let you in." Jin finishes and then for good measure, punches him right back, sending him sailing backwards, knocking over a garbage can. Fuu bites her nails while the two exchange blows. Her weak protests are ignored.
She feels gentle hands on her. She flinches, turning to see Shino smiling.
"Don't worry about them. Come sit down, you look exhausted."
"R-right." She looks over her shoulder at the two.
After a while they quit fighting, their energy finally depleted, laying on their backs on the platform, panting.
"Well," Mugen says eventually. "That was a shit show."
"An understatement." Jin agrees.
"What do we do now?"
Jin looks back at the two women sitting on the bench, having a quiet conversation of their own.
"We need to get them somewhere safe. I have some distant relatives down south they can stay with for the time being."
Mugen nods, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve as he sits up. Jin notices the way his hands shake. He too feels strength begin to leave his body. He hadn't planned on this night going quite so poorly.
"Get em' out of here." Mugen murmurs. "You an' me…we can find someplace to lay low until, you know."
"Until." Jin says, picking up the unspoken agreement between the two. There are only so many outcomes they're faced with now. They'll have to deal with it themselves. He turns to see Shino approaching shyly.
"I should probably grab some supplies from the store." She says. "Fuu has some injuries that need attending to and the three of you can't go around looking like that."
She nods at Mugen in particular. The suit he loaned him is covered in dried blood and it's a miracle they haven't been spotted and turned in by now.
"I'll come with you."
They walk in silence to a convenience store nearby. Jin glances at her from the corner of his eye. It's a constant thing: to make sure she's real, she's safe, she's beside him again. Despite the ordeal she looks untouched by the violence. The only marks on her body are in the red marks around her wrists from where she's been tied down. The rest of the scars are on the inside. Those take longer to heal.
He wonders if she thinks less of him for what he's done. If she thinks he's a monster for killing so easily— because it was easy. Remarkably so. When faced with someone about to take away the first people who have ever mattered to him…He'd do it again. For her, for Mugen, for Fuu, and never lose a night of sleep over it.
"I'm sor–"
"Don't." she says. "Don't apologize to me."
She stops walking, fists clenched at her side.
"You came back for me. You told me you loved me and I just waited for everything else to fall apart. I thought I pushed you away for good." She stares up into the sky, somewhere far from him. "Despite everything, you came back."
He searches her face. He knows that even if they're parted from each other again, it won't be for long. This time he'll make sure of it. He won't live with regret and longing eating away at him from the inside. He's reminded again of her story about souls and threads; there's a piece of his that feels like it unravels; the sweet relief of a knot tugged loose.
"And I always will."
Mugen pulls his suit jacket off, draping it around her shoulders. It's still stained with blood, but at least it covers her better. There's an instinct inside of him to keep her covered forever.
"What did he do to you?" he murmurs in question, eyes raking over her body, looking for more damage to assess. She pulls the jacket over herself tighter, wincing.
"He just touched me. I'm okay now, really."
"Just ." he repeats disgustedly.
He was an idiot for ever thinking that asshole was worth working for. Not like I had a choice he thinks bitterly. Maybe prison would have been better. Then Fuu wouldn't be put through all of this just for him. Two horrible nights in his life have ended in flames and death. This time he got to walk away free, but for how long? Soon the cops will be looking for them. How long before that bastard Kagetoki talks? They'll trace it back to him and this time there's no demon like Umanosuke to sell his soul to. It's just him, alone. Too many variables to account for. Especially since he needs to first focus on getting her somewhere far away from him.
"Please don't leave me." she whispers, as if she can tell what he's thinking. Her grip on his arm is almost painful, but he welcomes it because it means they're both alive and together. For now. " Please . What are you and Jin planning? If you think you can just leave…you can't, it's not fair."
She pauses her lecture to take his hands in hers, and he can't help but notice how dirty they look in comparison. He watches her fret to herself, a sharp, twisting pang in his chest. How can she still look so pure after being dragged through that garbage? How can she act like a few scratches on him mean anything after what she's been put through?
"Now you know what I'm capable of; what being with me means."
She shoots him a look of warning. "I've always known."
He lets out a soft breath, leaning back on the bench and shaking his head.
"I doubt that. But then again you're too damn stubborn to admit it."
"Well now you know that it doesn't matter what happens." she says fiercely, "I'm staying by your side, no matter what ."
It doesn't escape his notice of what she's really saying there, he just pushes it aside. She's glaring at him, all fire and determination. No, he's not alone anymore. That would be too easy.
It isn't fair.
But he's always known that.
"What the hell is this!?" Mugen yelps from the stall next to Jin. He sighs.
"It was all they had." he explains somewhat defensively as Mugen exits the stall, pulling the souvenir T-shirt over his head. Splashed across the center is the train station's bright yellow cartoon mascot, a chibi-fied train with a goofy smile. Mugen's sullen attitude in contrast would almost make him laugh, if he wasn't wearing the exact same thing.
"Better than your pansy ass suit I guess." he grumbles, tossing the soiled suit into the trash can, stuffing several handfuls of paper towels on top to mask it. He splashes water on his face from the sink, scrubbing off the last traces of blood from his skin. Jin has done the same and given the night they've had, they look almost normal. If not a little ridiculous in their matching t-shirts. Mugen sticks his wallet in the pocket of his new shorts and the two exit.
By the time they get out, Fuu has changed into the same shirt as them, it's oversized, nearly reaching her knees. With the bright colored bandaids on her arms and legs, she looks even younger than usual. Mugen takes a deep breath, his face stern as he steps forward to speak with her.
Fuu's yelling bounces off the walls of the station, probably reaching the other side of the city to be honest.
The few people that have eventually come milling back to wait for the train look over at the two nervously. For once it seems people are more sympathetic towards Mugen who waits patiently for Fuu to finish her angry tirade against him. She pokes him in the chest, shouting up at him, her face bright red.
Jin had a feeling she wouldn't take the news well.
He has already given Shino tickets along with instructions on where to go and how to get a hold of him once they're safe. The overnight train has sleeper cars for them to rest in–something both he and Mugen are also in desperate need of. They both agreed that they can wait until after the two women are safe.
Fuu doesn't look eager at all as the train approaches, staring at Mugen with something close to betrayal in her eyes. He glowers right back at her.
"Told you I'll be fine, you're pissin' me off with your complaining, now get out of here. Go!"
She stomps away with Shino trailing behind, giving Jin one last, small smile, holding his hand and squeezing it meaningfully. He nods at her. This isn't goodbye, so neither of them says it. Just a small detour before they're together again.
"You should go with them too." Mugen says. "This being on the run shit probably ain't gonna be a walk in the park you know."
"That's kind of you to suggest, but I can't let you take the sole blame for this. It was my idea."
"Not tryin' to be heroic or somethin'' he snorts. "Look at me, they'll blame me for everything anyway."
"If that's the case." Jin says steadily. "I'll stay to make sure that doesn't happen."
"Stubborn asshole." Mugen mutters, but there's no venom behind his words. The gesture makes him almost emotional . It's too much for one night, even for him.
He watches her get on the train, ignoring her sour expression. She'll get over it. Depending on how the next few days go this might be it for them. This might be the last time he'll ever see her again. It's worth it if she's safe from the chaos that'll follow when they're caught and dragged to jail. She'll be somewhere safe. She can start over again, find someone else. Maybe she'll go back to being a waitress. Some stranger will come in and she'll fall in love with him.
His thoughts start spiraling. It's the lack of sleep and sharp drop in adrenaline making him so goddamn moody .
Still, he probably should have given her a better goodbye. Since, you know,
This is it.
This can't be it.
Inside the train Fuu stands by the window, glaring at Mugen. Was it just this morning the two woke up together? It feels like a lifetime ago. Everything with him feels like it happened a lifetime ago. Another life. Missed chances.
No, this can't be it. Not after he told her she can count on him. He's sending her away?
"Hey, Shino." she says.
"Yes?"
Fuu turns to her, her expression apologetic.
"I hope someday you and I get to know each other. I'm really sorry for doing this."
Just before the doors can hiss shut, Fuu leaps from the train back to the platform, stumbling straight into Mugens arms.
"You dumb bitch!" he shouts at her, his voice hoarse. "What the fuck are you thinkin'? I told you to leave!"
The train slowly begins to depart the station.
"Well when have I ever listened to you ?" She shouts back. "I'm not leaving you!"
Jin steps forward involuntarily as the train begins to take off, walking beside it. Shino smiles at him reassuringly from behind the glass. He stops walking, watching it whisk her away.
Behind him Mugen lets out an agitated groan, stomping around the platform and cursing loudly. Fuu crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. Jin shakes his head.
Just the three of them now.
They all sink down onto a bench together in unison.
"Well, where do we go now?" Fuu asks and then adds forcefully, "because we're not staying here and you're not sending me away again!"
"I've got a little money we can go… somewhere." Jin says, handing her a small stack of bills and coins. His voice is tired. "You decide."
She takes it, holding up one of the coins. She claps her hands together.
"Hey! What if I flip a coin! Heads we go—"
Mugen snatches the money from her hands, grumbling.
"Ain't no way I'm trustin' you with a coin toss. I'll go pick the damn tickets."
She watches him stomp off again before glancing over at Jin. He looks contemplative, still staring off into the distance. She feels a twinge of guilt.
"Are you worried about her?"
He shakes his head.
"I'm just happy she's out of there. Incidentally, I'm relieved you're safe as well."
She smiles at him fondly, giving him a playful shove.
"Me too. Still, I'm sorry you didn't say goodbye to her."
"It's not goodbye. I'll always find my way back to her. She knows that."
She sighs dreamily.
"That's really romantic. She's lucky to have you."
"Mugen is lucky as well."
She throws her head back with a laugh.
"That jerk probably doesn't feel so lucky to have me right about now," she looks down with a smile, legs swinging, "but I don't care."
Jin doesn't doubt that Mugen feels profoundly lucky. He sees it in him. Every worried glance, every subtle move to shield her, every annoyed grimace. Just like him with Shino: this is how it's supposed to be.
Mugen returns, handing Jin a ticket and pocketing his own. He briefly holds hers back before she snatches it from his hands making a face at him.
"Next train doesn't leave until tomorrow morning." he says with a yawn, "Might have to spend the night out here, but I think if we lay low there shouldn't be any problems. We don't look like fugitives now."
They look stupid, but he holds that thought back.
Jin frowns down at the ticket.
"Is there some significance to this location?"
Fuu looks down at the ticket for a full ten seconds, her eyes going wide.
"Hokuto? That's where the sunflower festival—Oh Mugen… "
She trails off, pressing the ticket to her chest. Her heart feels close to bursting. He looks away awkwardly, shrugging off her radiant smile.
"I wanted to take ya' under better circumstances, but this might be all we get."
Her watery smile falters.
"But is a festival really a good idea though?" She asks worriedly, "I mean, technically we're on the run right?"
"Haven't got us yet." he says. "Might as well live it up."
They both look to Jin, leaving the decision up to him.
Her, because she trusts him.
Him, because he owes him.
Jin's eyes close as if in deep thought, as though weighing the options carefully. Truthfully the idea is appealing. A night of peace with his friends. He nods.
"I'd like to go to a festival with the two of you."
AN:Chapter 11 is the sunflower festival + past-life flashback. I wrote most of it near the beginning when I first started posting this story, so hopefully it won't take forever to update. Let me know what you think! Thank you as always for sticking around with this one :')
