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Chapter Six: Trespassing and Petty Theft

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"Hey, look! There's sake!" Mugen's been rummaging around in the cabinets. He pulls out a large but dusty jug, which he uncorks and proceeds to sniff the contents. "Good sake."

"That's not yours," I say. Trespassing for the sake of shelter is one thing. Unnecessary theft is entirely another.

"Would you pass out already? You're cramping my style."

"I refuse." If I pass out, who knows what he'll do. Or steal. Or destroy.

The inside of the tiny home is fairly well-kept, even if most of the furnishings appear to date from the Heian Era. There's a plethora of cooking utensils hanging from the ceiling, and the garden tools adorn the walls. One corner contains grinding implements, and several small baskets of labeled packets. Dried herbs litter the area. Whoever lives here must make their living by collecting mountain plants for medicine.

It's a small hovel, but for some reason, it has a pleasant, homey atmosphere. Light and air comes in through window on the southernmost wall, bringing the smell of the forest to mix with the pungent odor of dried foods and herbs. I instinctively like it here, for some strange reason. Or, perhaps I just like being able to sit down without worrying that mud is going to soak into my hakama. The person who lives here appears to take good care of their tatami. I like a clean tatami.

"Fresh leeks. Can you believe it? Do you see the color of this radish?" Fuu is no help at all in my half-hearted quest to thwart thievery. "Just look at this eggplant!" She proceeds to shove it in Mugen's face. He snarls slightly and turns around. Fuu eyes the eggplant as if it were a handful of polished ryo. "You have no appreciation for fine produce. None."

Now she's stealing stuff, too. That lunatic is a bad influence on her. "The food is not ours, either," I say.

Fuu's shoulders slump, and she lets out an exasperated breath. "They have plenty more in the garden. I'm sure they won't mind." She brandishes the eggplant at me. "Besides, Mugen is right. You should be sleeping."

"Hm." I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. At least for as long as I possibly can keep myself from it. "No."

"You're obnoxious when you're sick, Jin," Fuu says. I wonder if this means she considers me not obnoxious when I'm healthy. That seems like an acceptable sentiment. Almost a compliment, even. Nonetheless, I'm not sure I like something about the tone of her voice… Oh. Oh no. Here it comes. "Some bodyguards you two are. Don't think I don't know, because I know! I saw Jin's straw hat cut in half. You two were fighting…"

Mugen glances at me. I glance at Mugen. He grabs a cup out of the cabinet, pours some sake into it, and hands it to me. We've suffered many a long Fuu-lecture. If you try to escape, she'll just lecture more when she finds you again. If he's bored, Mugen will gripe at her in return. But, there's sake, and it apparently trumps getting under Fuu's skin.

Several minutes later, Fuu takes a break from bemoaning her fate of having to travel with two 'worthless bodyguards', and looks up from her task of slicing the eggplant. "Hey! Are you two even listening to me?"

"No." Mugen says, and then chugs directly from the bottle of sake.

I remain silent. Not as much because I wish to avoid her wrath as the fact that I'm feeling terribly drowsy. I don't think the sake is helping in my attempt to stay awake. I wonder if Mugen gave me the sake with the intention of getting me to pass out. When no one is looking in my direction, I pinch my wrist hard, hoping that the pain will wake me up a bit.

"What are you drinking?" Fuu scoots closer to Mugen and pokes him in the shoulder. Repeatedly. "Give me some."

Mugen glances at me. I glance at Mugen.

We both say "No," at exactly the same time.

The only thing worse than a lecturing Fuu…

Is a drunken Fuu.

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Consciousness is not my friend, of late. The sake just speeds the inevitable.

I have the strangest dream. In this dream, a man is standing over Fuu. I can not see him, only his silhouette. He raises a katana, and the sunlight strikes the blade in such a way as to almost blind me with a reflection.

I am running, I am running and drawing my sword. But, no matter how fast I run, I can not get any closer to where Fuu is sitting, her back turned to the attacker, completely oblivious of the danger. I open my mouth to call out to her, but no words come. Then, I hear a voice from beside me. It's Mugen. He's running, too. He's screaming at her to move, using all of the expletives that he knows. He says her name, over and over. I've never heard him say her name, and I have never heard his voice so laced with fear.

Fuu looks up and waves at us. There are sunflowers in her lap, and she's even made herself some jewelry out of them. She doesn't seem to notice all of our attempts to warn her of the danger.

The silhouetted man sets his feet, and I realize that he's taking up a very familiar stance. He moves slightly to the left, and brings the sword in close to Fuu's neck. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. Within seconds, she'll be dead.

And Fuu is smiling at us. She's smiling like I've never really seen her smile, like she is finally at peace, like her quest is complete. Then, I hear her voice. I hear Fuu say, "I trust you, Jin."

And the man with the katana leveled at Fuu's neck goes tense. Very carefully, he drops his stance. Mugen and I stop running, and watch as the man sheathes his katana.

As he turns away, I see his expensive glasses glint in the sunlight, and the faint trace of a smile on his lips.

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I wake up to find I'm covered with a blanket. Fuu's doing, I suspect. I don't know how long I've been asleep, but the light coming in the small windows bespeaks either twilight or dawn. I consult my internal clock, and it provides no answer to the time mystery.

My limbs feel sore, as if I have been practicing in the dojo for hours on end. I'm not sure if it would be better to try to move, and get some blood flowing, or remain stationary. I'd opt for the latter if my throat didn't feel so terrible. The thought of warm tea compels me to fight the lethargy.

I don't see Mugen or Fuu. Who knows where they've gone. Fuu's animal is perched on a nearby shelf, however, so I doubt she's gone far. For the moment, I'm glad to have a measure of peace and quiet. I take stock to make certain I have not been relieved of any of my possessions by a certain unkempt ruffian, and then get to work on making tea.

Surely, the absent resident of this domicile would not begrudge me a little… Now this is fine tea, indeed. I bring the lacquered box to my face and inhale deeply. Lightly roasted, but with a faint scent of oranges. It reminds me of Orin-san's good tea, the kind she kept on the top shelf, and brought out only when sensei had visitors from other dojos.

It takes me right back to the first time sensei asked me to represent our dojo at a local exhibition in honor of a visiting daimyo. Before that, he'd always sent one of the older students, a senior to Yukimaru and myself. But, that student had left the dojo to take up a government position in another city.

We sat across from one another, sensei and I. I don't think I understood the full scope of what he was asking of me until Orin-san served tea. That precious tea we saved for special occasions, and I was being offered it, as if I were his most honored guest. I'd tasted it before, on the sly, when Orin-san would reward us with a weak version made from stems and leavings. But, never this potent, never in its true and intended form.

I don't think I had ever felt the way I felt at that moment. I do not know if I will ever feel that way again.

"You get your nose out of my tea!"

I look up in time to see the bristles of the broom flying at my head. Unfortunately, in my rather pathetic state, all I do is block them from hitting my face by allowing them to strike my forearm, instead. It stings, and tea leaves go everywhere.

I can't believe I was so lost in memories, I didn't notice someone come into the room.

"Aieeee! You got tea everywhere. Why, you'd best leave before I… I…"

I try to scrape the tea leaves back into the box. I don't point out the fact that the tea would not have been spilt if this woman hadn't tried to attack me with a cleaning implement.

"Jin-san? Is that… No, it couldn't be… My vision must be going."

I look up, and find a rather ancient woman peering at me. She's short, maybe not even as tall as Fuu, and her graying hair is pulled up into a style not unlike what I remember my mother wearing. She puts a gnarled hand up to her wrinkle-lined eyes and rubs at them. Those eyes… Humble yet wise. I remember them always in the background of my youth, handing me clean clothing, handing me food, handing me a list of things to pick up from the marketplace. Orin-san was always handing me something, it seemed.

"Orin-san," I say quietly. Now I actually do feel bad about spilling the tea leaves.

"Orin-san, he says. As if it's perfectly normal for him to appear from nowhere." Orin-san kneels down next to me and starts to help me clean up the spilled tea leaves. It takes her a few moments to get to the floor, and I actually think I hear her knee creak. "My goodness, Jin-san, you gave me a fright. I thought I was being robbed."

I'm too surprised by Orin-san's appearance to inform her that she's already been relieved of half of her sake and several eggplants.

"But, I should have known that only a very particular sort of thief would go after my gyokuro." Orin-san laughs, a hearty but warm sound that I'd long since forgotten.

"My apologies. I will replace the tea." How I will replace it, I have no idea, since I'm completely broke. But, this seems like the correct thing to offer.

"Oh, don't you worry. I don't get any visitors up here, anyway. It would have just gone to waste. But here you are, a surprise visitor…" Orin-san leans back a little and squints at me. "You are just too pale, Jin-san. Have you been living in a cave? And skinny. Look at your wrists! Doesn't your wife feed you anything?"

"I'm not…"

"No? And do you know why? Because you never spoke to any of the young ladies, that's why. Always so taciturn. Why I remember…"

"Who's the old hag?" Mugen is standing in the doorway, scowling at Orin-san as if she smelled of spoiled leeks. And, maybe she does, a little. Fuu fails at pushing him out of the way, and ends up squeezing herself through the gap between Mugen and the wall.

"Orin-san," I say by way of introduction, "My traveling companions." I pick the final few leaves of tea off of my gi, and deposit them back into the box. I'm not looking forward to this. I shouldn't have followed Mugen back to this hut. I still can't believe I fell for that trick. And I can't believe I begrudge him the fact that it was a good plan.

"This is Mugen, and I'm Fuu. Sorry for any mess we made. Jin's been sick and we were looking for a place to let him rest."

Orin-san narrows her eyes at me. Her hand shoots out and smacks against my forehead a little more forcefully than necessary. I definitely think her eyesight is going bad. "It's quite alright, Fuu-chan. Please make yourself at home here, and… My goodness, she's right. You do have a fever, Jin-san. That must be why you're so pale, hm?"

Mugen snorts derisively and plops down in the doorway. "Ugh. An old woman. Why couldn't it have been a young woman? Old women have saggy…"

Fuu clamps a hand over his mouth. Orin-san either doesn't hear him, or pretends that she doesn't. I'm betting the latter. She always could hear boys conspiring to steal snacks from halfway across the dojo.

"Well," Orin-san says, "I'll make Jin-san some medicinal tea. I think that will help. And then we shall all have a lovely dinner, hm? I'm glad to have visitors. And, any friend of Jin-san's is certainly welcome in my home."

I never said that they were my friends!

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"Yes. After Mariya-sensei could no longer afford a housekeeper, I traveled here to live with my sister. She made a decent living selling medicinal herbs from the mountain in the nearest village. Sadly, however, she passed away a year ago. I've continued her trade, though. It's very solitary, but you get used to it."

I hear a rhythmic grinding noise, and the air is pungent with the smell of freshly-crushed plants. I'm lying on my side, with a cool compress on my forehead. The twitter of mid-morning larks and sparrows mixes with the grinding and chatter. It's almost…comfortable. Or is the better word "pleasant"?

"I'm sorry to hear about your sister, Orin-san."

"Mm. Yes. But, such things happen to old people. And she was happy in her life… Oh, that's very good, Fuu-chan. You have strong arms. You could be a pharmacist. Keep grinding until it becomes like sand, and then I will show you how to make the medicine packets."

I open one eye slightly, and take a quick peek around the room. Mugen is missing. Fuu and Orin-san are sitting in the corner. Fuu, hunched over a stone grinding wheel, uses the handles to push it back and forth. Next to her, Orin-san is plucking leaves off of a pile of cut plants.

"Orin-san, I was wondering… What was Jin like as a boy?"

"As a boy?" Orin-san looks up thoughtfully. "You know, he was a very plump little child when he first came to the dojo. I thought for sure that Mariya-sensei would have to take up teaching sumo. But, as soon as Jin-san started training with his shinai, he turned as lanky as a wolf."

Fuu stops grinding for the moment. "I mean, was he always so…you know, quiet and reserved?"

"Goodness, yes. Always so serious, our Jin-san. So very proper. Mariya-sensei used to say to me, 'Orin, that boy was born to the blade, but a soul of steel will sink a man cast into the waters.' I think he was glad that Jin-san came to the dojo, but sad that Jin-san was always so alone and withdrawn."

"Oh." The sadness in Fuu's voice makes the hair on the back of my neck bristle. I really don't like the turn this conversation has taken. I don't know if Orin-san knows about Mariya-sensei and I, and I'm not exactly keen on her finding out, for some reason. And, why do people always talk about me when they think I am asleep?

"I always hoped for Jin-san's happiness. Does he ever smile now, Fuu-chan?"

"Um, well, not really." Fuu's voice goes back to a more positive tone, "But, I think he's lightened up a lot since we began this journey. And maybe Mugen has settled down some. Even though they want to kill each other, I think they're actually pretty good influences on one another."

She's been in the sake. Surely she's drunk.

"Well, that's good to hear," Orin-san says. There's a rustling of cloth. I think Orin-san is scooting closer to Fuu. "Say, Fuu-chan…"

"Yes?"

"About that Mugen-san… Is he your husband?"

The noise of my choking is, thankfully, covered up by Fuu's squeals of denial.

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In Our Next Chapter: The final chapter of 'An Amalgam of Lost Tales'. I hope you'll look forward to it!

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I needed a break from this story, so I worked on some of my others for a while.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate your support of this sort of silly, sort of pointless story. So, thanks to: xcloudx, dupidnavagog, koalared, dawn2dusk, sarcasticrabbit, Gavin Gunhold, BlackSails, Elementary Magpie, Lady Kagewaki, poornmiseable, en route, and Phi Dono.