This story is a one-shot that takes place before a multi-chapter story I'm currently working on titled "Inseparable." However, both this one-shot and that multi-chapter story can be read independently of each other. Beware, there are major spoilers ahead! Oh, and I don't own Samurai Champloo or its characters—I'm just having some fun with them.
There were times...
She walked along the dusty Nagasaki road, feeling the sand coat her skin like the memories that clung to her mind. From the moment she'd left Jin and Mugen, standing there at the crossroads, she'd felt immersed in a mood of reflection. It came with having finally ended a journey that she had been on for so long, a journey that had in truth started when she was only a child and her father had left her to chase after his ghost in sunflower fields. It was a journey that had begun in her heart and had only become something of body when Jin and Mugen had entered her life.
And now her father, the Sunflower Samurai, was found. And now her father, the Sunflower Samurai, was gone.
And now she was walking down the road she'd come here on, back the opposite direction. This time without her companions. There were the familiar feelings—a sort of whiny grumble in her stomach, the tickle of Momo wiggling his furry squirrel-body inside her kimono, a dull ache in her feet from having walked all day. But there were unfamiliar feelings too. Things were different—she was different. She had closure now. The Sunflower Samurai was found. The Sunflower Samurai was gone.
She found herself considering moments in her life, ones that stood out among the not-so-mundane backdrop of her experiences. Despite all the confusion she faced on a daily basis, there were times when things came into perfect clarity, and she felt like she could point her finger at a chunk of her existence and classify it as something, saying, "Look, that goes over there." There were times. And in these times she felt that she'd found the things that identified her, things of vivid memory. There were times.
------
There were times when she missed her mom...
She sits there, a quiet statue beside the cushioned bed. Her mother looks so small there, lying amidst blankets and pillows that threaten to swallow her fragile form. This is not the woman Fuu has always known—the slightly rebellious and strong woman that waited tables at a teahouse by day and threw dice at a gambling house at night.
The acrid smell of medicines fills the air, the wake of the doctor that has spent all night in this room. But he is gone now, and has left his last words behind, ringing in her ears.
"I'm sorry. She will not last past sunrise."
Fuu cringes. The first rays of light are filtering through the room, touching her mother's face with radiant yellow. It reminds her of sunflowers and she is suddenly angry at the father who isn't here, the samurai not brave enough to even stay with his own family.
"You know Fuu, those sad eyes are not very becoming on you." Her mother's voice is almost nonexistent, a whisper of wind.
Fuu is silent, not knowing what to say. What can a person say when they stand at the pinnacle of their life?
"Don't be afraid. Live your life and don't be afraid." A small smile cracks dried lips. "I'll be fine, Fuu." And then the voice is gone, the whisper of wind having blown away with one last deep rattle in the woman's slight chest.
Too late, Fuu says: "Don't worry, Mom. I'm going to find him. I'm going to find the Samurai that smells like sunflowers and punch in the face for leaving us. I promise."
But her mother is gone, leaving the fragile body of a stranger behind. There is no one left to promise to but herself.
------
There were times when she was hopeful...
The sun is shining brightly in the clarity of early morning. She walks with a little skip to her step, glancing over her shoulder every once in a while to check that the two samurai are still trailing behind her.
The scruffy one named Mugen is taking long exaggerated steps with his hands tucked behind his head. The other, the handsome one with the quiet demeanor named Jin, walks beside Mugen, movements calm and controlled.
Both are glaring at each other with threatening looks.
She sighs. "You know, if you kill each other then who will be left to help me find the Samurai that smells like sunflowers? I didn't have to save you guys, but I DID so now you HAVE to help me."
She looks back again. They seem to have ignored her.
Stopping, she turns to face them. The two almost run her over, distracted with their oh-so-important glaring.
"What the hell!" Mugen mutters.
They both stumble to a halt, each going for his sword, just in case the other tries to take advantage of the moment.
She covers her face with both hands and slides them down over her chin in exasperation.
"WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE STOP ALREADY!"
They both look at her, surprised by the sudden volume of her voice.
Good, she finally has their attention.
"In case you hadn't noticed, giving each other dirty looks WILL NOT drill a fatal hole in the other's brain."
They give her confused expressions, as if what she'd just said doesn't make much sense.
Again, she sighs. Time to try a different motivation. "Fine. The next person to glare at the other doesn't get any food in the next town. There will be no more glaring of any kind. Got it? No glaring."
"What the--. What makes you think we're gonna listen to you?" Mugen takes a threatening step forward.
"Because I'm the only one with money left."
Mugen glares at her. She looks from him to Jin. Jin is glaring at her too. "Hey! No glaring. That includes glares directed at me. What do I have to do, write it down for you guys?" She rolls her eyes at them and spins around, continuing to walk down the path.
"Like hell I'm going to listen to you! Who do you think you are? Hey, who does she think she is?"
"Unfortunately, the one with the money," Jin's voice replies behind her.
Mugen continues to mumble angrily, but she hears him and Jin fall back into step behind her. Realizing she isn't reacting to him, Mugen directs his complaining about this 'stupid girl he's gotten stuck with' to Jin.
She smiles. At least they aren't threatening to kill each other anymore. All they needed was a little pushing and maybe, just maybe, they'd make it to the samurai that smells like sunflowers.
------
There were times when she felt alone...
They'd both left her. She hadn't really expected them to. There had been plenty of fights between her and Mugen—it was just a condition of their coexistence. But this time he had stormed away in search of some monster in the woods and she, equally angry, had turned to go the opposite direction.
She'd hoped at least Jin would follow her, but he didn't.
And so now she is left alone. Just her and the trees. Her and the really tall, dark, spooky-looking trees. It occurs to her that she has no idea where she is going.
They can't have REALLY left her.
She balls her fists angrily. Who the hell is she kidding? The three of them had gone in different directions.
They're really gone.
She takes a deep breath. She'll just have to continue on herself. Maybe in the next town she'll find someone new to travel with her.
The next town. Where is the next town?
Something makes a whining noise in the forest then. She stops, eyes darting around and finding only bark and leaves and dirt.
The whining comes again.
And it occurs to her that because she is completely alone, there is no one to save her.
------
There were times when she felt beautiful…
His eyes travel over her, their paths strategic and planned, and she watches him from over her shoulder, her back facing the place where he sits and draws. She has pushed her kimono down off her shoulders, holding it low over her breasts, and the feel of the cool air on her exposed skin makes her blush.
He tells her that it's okay, that her blush will add life to his drawing.
She's never had a man look at her like this—so thoroughly, so completely, and without criticism. But this man is an artist, and he studies every curve.
He talks to her as he does, asking her where she is from and where she is going. It is somewhat surprising that she finds it so easy to tell him. Frustrations with her two bodyguards pour out in a short-lived rant of complaints until she cuts herself off suddenly.
"I'm sorry. You must not want to hear about my problems. You must think I'm pretty stupid."
He smiles. "No, I think you're beautiful."
------
There were times of happiness…
The fire is getting low now, having hungrily consumed most of the wood and kindling, and nighttime forest sounds ring through the air. She is lying on her stomach, close enough to still feel the heat of the glowing coals, and she twists to look up at the sky. Not much of it can be seen through the branches but she does see enough to know that it is cloudy and there are no stars.
Right now, she likes it like that. It makes her feel more isolated, more protected. Like there is nothing that can ever take this moment away.
She knows it isn't true, but right now, she lets herself believe it is. And even though the fire is almost out, she feels warm inside.
Turning to her companions on the other side of it, she sees that Jin has fallen asleep. Mugen though, is lying on his back, eyes still open. A stray resilient flame is still burning and it reflects in his obsidian eyes, dancing in their brooding depths.
"What are you lookin' at?"
She hadn't known that he could see her, but she thinks then that he is probably used to the need to monitor what is going on in the peripheral of his vision.
She looks away, embarrassed, and focuses her eyes back on the dying fire.
He scoffs. "You don't need to be afraid of me."
Her eyes came back to him again, and she sees that he's turned his head to face her. "I know. I just didn't mean to bother you." She is feeling very fragile right now. Tomorrow she will meet the Sunflower Samurai. Tomorrow their journey will end.
"Hey babe, it all depends on what kind of bothering you're talking about." He smirks and raises a tantalizing eyebrow. "Jin's asleep. It's just you and me."
"Mugen!" she growls over the fire. She tries to force her reaction into a whisper to keep from waking Jin. "Like hell I'd—"
He cuts her off with his laughing, and she sees that he is enjoying himself. "Eh, don't worry. I don't like flat chests."
She can feel the heat in her cheeks as she gives him an angry look. It seems to only make him laugh harder as he rolls over. How many times has he used the same joke on her? Is he really that insensitive? He is like an annoying older brother…
Older brother? The meaning of that phrase seems to dawn on her suddenly.
They are family.
Tomorrow she will meet the Sunflower Samurai. Tomorrow their journey will end. But tonight, they are a family.
She smiles then, rolling over onto her back, and understanding, perhaps for the first time, what all of Mugen's stupid teasing and jokes really mean.
Sighing deeply, she whispers, "Thanks Mugen," and the words are genuine.
------
There were times when she felt regret…
How easily things ended. They took all the courage in the world to start, and with the slice of a sword, they were over.
Her father is dead, his blood still spilling out of his chest where the government official had cut him—a samurai with a hand that moved with the speed of a god.
She should run, but she stands frozen for the split second she know she has before that sword turns on her.
Her father is dead, and the last words she'd said to him were words of anger.
And his last words? Were they words of love? Or a dying man's reflection on his life…
This man that is dripping red on the floor—he is a stranger. A person reduced to symbols in her mind so that all she seems to see when she looks at him now is a field of sunflowers wilting.
She's come here for answers. There'll be no more of those.
The government official turns on her now—an angel of death built of graceful movements and a sinister smile.
It is time to run.
And when he finally catches up to her at the edge of a cliff, he tells her that she's led him here to her father. He tells her what her journey really means.
It means no more sunflowers.
------
There were times when she was absolutely terrified…
The blades make sick squelching sounds and she screams as she watches them slide through their targets, leaving both Jin and the government official impaled. There is no movement in the wake of the lighting flash of swords, until finally they pull the blades out of each other and both fall to the ground.
She wants to scream again and run over to Jin, but then she hears the deafening roar of an explosion from below the cliff edge behind her, and now she screams for a different reason.
"Mugen!"
He is down there, and she turns to look over lip of the cliff and sees his body limp on the floor, black with soot and burns.
She can't breathe.
Both Mugen and Jin are down.
------
There were times when she felt peace….
She sits quietly, a serene smile on her face as she watches them eat—Mugen with his face shoved into his bowl and Jin with careful and tentative bites.
A week. A week they've been asleep, recovering from their injuries.
And now, though they are still covered with bandages and wounds, they are themselves again, awake and alive. She feels as if a tight rope around her body has finally been loosened.
They are too busy eating to notice her expression, but it is one of being relaxed. Jin finally glances up and catches her eyes. She thinks she sees him nod ever-so-slightly.
And then he smiles.
The moment is perfect.
------
She stopped, standing in the middle of the road and looking at the seemingly innocent teahouse. The name of the place, written on a sign in large characters, spoke of a hidden world behind the façade. Her memories faded and she thought about now. What kind of time was now?
Now was a time when her mother came alive inside her—the part of her mother that sought adventure and excitement. After everything she'd been through, she felt that she was now braver and stronger than she'd been at the start. And she was eager to test this new sense of self. A teahouse was not the place to do that. But a gambling house was. A gambling house was a place of danger and intrigue.
And she'd been told that behind the scenes, that's what this place was. "The Lusty Diamond," the sign read. Definitely not an innocent teahouse.
She walked up to the door. Time to go inside and seek employment. They would be impressed with her dice-throwing skills. Her mother had taught her well.