(Author's Note: This chapter contains a random reference to Lord Byron. No, I will never edit that part out. I like Lord Byron too much.)

CHAPTER FIVE

Mugen and Fuu burst into the brothel from the street, spraying rain and mud everywhere. Several people cried out in surprise and rose. The Madame of the house came sweeping up to them indignantly.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Please, he's hurt!" gasped Fuu.

"We're customers! I mean, we were customers!" added Mugen.

"And he's bleeding!"

"We were here last night!"

"I won't stand for this nonsense! Get out this instant!" shouted the matron.

"He'll die!" cried Fuu.

"It's true!" yelled one of the women suddenly. She rose from the table where she'd been talking with a man and hurried up to them. She was young, only one or two years older than Fuu, and had a petit, worrisome look that reminded Fuu of birds in the fall, hopping around looking for seeds for winter. "I was with him last night," she said. Fuu was sure she was blushing under the white makeup smeared on her face.

"Kura!" said the matron in a highly indignant tone. It was a basic rule that the women weren't supposed to speak of other men, particularly while entertaining a new one.

"Please," begged Fuu. The matron looked at Fuu, who looked even younger because of her wet hair and clothes, and her big, watery eyes. She looked at Jin, unconscious, his leg dripping with blood. Then she considered the patrons there, who were watching intently. Turning away previous customers in need would leave a bad impression. She sighed.

"Kura, you foolish, useless girl. Find them a room. Get Kagami and take care of him." She looked like she was sucking a lemon when she said it. By admitting to being with Jin, Kura had lost a customer, and she was allowing a man into the brothel without paying. She decided to mention this later.

Meanwhile, Mugen was struggling to readjust his grip on Jin, and was half-dragging, half-carrying him after Kura, leaving a trail of blood and muddy footprints.

"What happened?" asked Kura as they passed into a narrow and poorly-lit hall.

"Got in a fight," grunted Mugen. This was the best explanation he could offer, but Kura accepted it. She led them up a flight of stairs (Mugen teetered dangerously at the top before righting himself) and into a room at the very end of the upstairs hall. The rooms were small and separated only by screens; it was noisy and somehow crowded.

Mugen let out a groan of relief as he dumped Jin onto the bed. Kura hurried out of the room and returned with a second girl. The second girl had no make-up and was wearing a plain gray kimono; she wasn't working tonight, for some reason.

Kura pulled back the flap of Jin's hakama and winced at the sight of the cut on his thigh.

"Did it cut an artery?" asked Fuu anxiously.

"Do I look like a doctor?" replied Kura. She examined it, then said, "Could you please leave?"

Fuu and Mugen bowed their heads and left the room. They sat in the hall listening to the moans of people pleasuring themselves in nearby rooms. Fuu knelt, twisting her hands in her lap; Mugen crouched, tapping his sword impatiently on the floor.

"Will he die?" asked Fuu finally in a small voice.

"No," said Mugen shortly. He stood and stretched, cracking his neck. Fuu turned and saw the matron of the hall coming down to them; she stood too.

The matron glowered at them for a moment, then said, "I'm afraid this is a business, and although your friend is badly hurt, I cannot let you stay here longer than one night unless you're willing to pay for the room."

"But… but we haven't got any money," said Fuu softly.

"I'll get it," said Mugen before the matron could retort. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it." He crossed the hall and disappeared down the stairs. The matron bowed her head at Fuu and followed. Fuu stood there by herself, bewildered, wondering how Mugen would come up with the money. For a moment, she pictured him with his face painted white, in a butterfly obi, standing on a street corner and saying "Hey baby" to passing men in his low sneering voice. She laughed bitterly and slid against the wall to wait, listening to the rain pattering on the roof.

Though Fuu couldn't say it was the worse night of her life, it certainly made the topten list. The sounds around her weren't at all comforting, and occasionally a man or a few women would pass. More than once, a man would ask her how much; she would reply, angrily, that she wasn't for sale. Kura and Kagami walked in and out of Jin's room but didn't talk to Fuu, and she was scared to ask. Finally, she ventured to ask how he was.

"Feverous," said Kura shortly before sliding the screen closed in Fuu's face.

After a few long hours, a woman came down the hall and lit lanterns hanging on the walls; night had fallen, though it was just as dark as it had been all day because of the rain. A few hours after dark, Fuu heard quiet, sharp cries from Jin's room.

"Can I see him?" she asked Kura the next time she came out.

"No," said Kura. Fuu must have looked angry, because she said, more gently, "He requested that we not let anyone in, unless… well, until the fever is past. He's delirious. I think it would embarrass him of you had to hear it."

"Why? What's he saying?" demanded Fuu.

"Mostly he's just asking for people."

"Did he ask for me?"

"Yes, but he also asked for his mother and his dojo master, so we're going to assume he doesn't really know what he's saying at all."

Fuu sulked in the hall, her legs pulled up to her body, straining her ears to hear Jin over the groans of men and women in neighboring rooms. Mugen returned sometime after midnight with a small amount of money. He was soaked to the bone from the rain, and his front was covered with blood from Jin.

"No one's out," he said simply. "Too much rain." He dumped the coins in Fuu's lap and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and putting his chin on his chest to sleep.

"Jin's not doing so well," said Fuu. Mugen pretended not to hear her.

A few hours past midnight, but long before dawn, Kura poked her head out into the hall.

"Hmm?" asked Fuu, looking up expectantly. She nudged Mugen. He started and looked up.

"You may see Jin now," said Kura quietly.

"Is he okay?" asked Fuu, picking herself off the floor. Kura bowed her head. "What? What is it? He's okay, right?" pressed Fuu. Kura moved aside; Fuu hurried inside and dashed to the bedside. Jin's clothes were draped over a chair nearby; he was lying in the bed with a wet cloth on his head.

"Jin!" cried Fuu, grabbing his hand without thinking. Jin turned his head to her; he barely opened his eyes. His skin was paler than usual, and his eyes were rimmed with deep bruises.

Jin's lips moved a little. "I—I can't hear you," she said, leaning closer. Jin breathed out softly, as if in defeated exasperation. Then, quietly, he murmured, "Is Mugen here?"

"Yes. He's right here," said Fuu soothingly. "Mugen!" she hissed, wrenching him forward. He reached behind his head and rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"Hey," he said.

Jin breathed out again, and murmured, "Good." There was a pause. "Stay with me." It was almost a question.

"We will," Fuu assured him quickly.

"I don't want to die alone."

"Jin!" cried Fuu. "You're not—you're not going to die!"

Jin stared at her through his cracked eyes, then closed them with a soft sigh. Fuu reached out to touch his face, and was scared by its heat.

"Jin?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm tired," he said simply. He cracked his eyes open again to look at her. "But you want to talk."

"You—you must have something to say."

"Hmm." He closed his eyes and was quiet a long time. Finally, he said, "When I have died, scatter my ashes across the river island, between the two salmon pools where driftwood wraps around alders."

"Jin!" cried Fuu. "Don't say that! That's so morbid!"

"Tanka."

"What?" She turned around. Mugen was watching them, straddling the chair that Jin's clothes were hung over, with had his hands draped over the back. He somehow managed to look bored and intently focused at the same time.

"That was a tanka," he said, suddenly becoming grossly interested in his sword. He examined the blade closely. "It's a poem."

"How would you know that?" demanded Fuu. Mugen shrugged. Jin smiled slightly.

"Indigo bird who climbed the continent to perch in white lilacs: I too a weary of this pilgrim way."

Fuu heard Kura sigh audibly behind her. "He's so romantic."

"Oh, shut up, you probably say that about all your clients."

Kura looked affronted. "No, I don't!" she snapped. "Just because I'm a whore doesn't mean I can't think he's romantic! And he is romantic! In fact, he's a perfect archetype for a Byronic hero!"

"Lord Byron won't be born for another hundred years!" yelled Fuu.

"You're just stereotyping me and thinking I'm uneducated because I work in a brothel!"

"The wind-blown clouds lighten and darken, lighten and darken, the room in which we argue," said Jin. Kura sighed again. Fuu glared at her, but didn't say anything. Instead, she rewetted Jin's cloth and put it back on his head. He groaned and turned his head to the side.

Fuu held onto his hand and watched him, not asleep but not awake, perched precariously on the edge of… Fuu didn't let herself think it. But, she reflected, she wished Jin had better company than a thief, a whore, and a fifteen-year-old.