CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Jin! Wake up!"

"Nuh," said Jin. He and Mugen were curled up like animals in the corner; they'd agreed, though slightly grudgingly, to give Fuu the use of the bed that night. Jin was wearing Mugen's coat again, and was lying over Mugen's chest and stomach like a large dog or a blanket. Mugen was stretched out, one hand curled over Jin, his other arm used as a pillow.

"Jin!" Fuu nudged Jin insistently with her foot. "Wake up! Please, it's really important!"

Jin rolled over onto Mugen's face. Mugen woke up to find he was being suffocated; he gave a muffled yell, waved his arms a bit, and pushed Jin off him. Jin woke up when his head thunked against the floor.

"What? What is it now?"

"Look!"

Fuu held up a scroll. It was neatly printed and bearing a crest. Jin snatched it from her hands and pulled it out. Fuu and Mugen leaned over his shoulders.

"What's it say?" demanded Mugen.

For his benefit, Jin began reading out loud. "To Takeda Jin, student and murderer of Master Mariya Enshirou of the Mujuushin Kenjetsu dojo… blah blah blah… he's wordy, isn't he? …from Miyazaki Shenji… more pointless stuff…"

Fuu, who could read, knew why he was skipping over most of the phrases. Mugen just looked puzzled.

"…I do hereby summon—oh, he summons me, does he?—summon you to a battle tomorrow—he gave the date, as if I didn't know it, as if I couldn't tell what tomorrow is—more wordiness—ah, interesting stakes he's proposed."

"What? What are the stakes?" cried Mugen.

"Their lives," said Fuu softly.

"That's boring, a fight to the death? What's the point of sending a letter? He knows Jin is in the area, of course they'll fight to the death eventually, why did he need—"

"You misunderstand," said Jin calmly, eyes scanning the extremely lengthy terms of battle. "It will be a fight in which the loser pledges his life to the winner."

"So… whoever wins will own the other?"

"Yes," said Jin grimly. He ran his index finger over his upper lip.

"You're not going to actually accept, are you?" asked Mugen in a panic. "The stupid prat sent you a letter saying he wants to make this into a freakin' game? You don't need a freakin' date for the battle. Just go in there and kill him. Don't accept."

"It wouldn't be the first time I gambled my life," mused Jin, turning over the letter in his hands. "And I believe both would prefer this to a simple killing. It's so crude, actually…"

"Stupid prat?" repeated Fuu, cocking an eyebrow. "Freaking? Mugen… are you trying not to swear?"

Mugen scratched the back of his head and tugged at his chin. "Yeah, well, so what if I am?"

Fuu turned her attention back to Jin. "Jin, this is really dangerous. You can't win with your leg."

"He's missing an eye," said Jin.

"Legs and eyes are really different things, Jin" cried Fuu. "I agree with Mugen. You'll fight him eventually anyway. Fixing a date and raising the stakes like this… it's really not a good idea."

"It's a terrible idea," confirmed Mugen.

Jin smiled slightly and lowered his head. "Fuu, please bring me some paper."

"Jin! You're not accepting!"

"I have to. It would be dishonorable if I didn't."

"Jin, you moron!" snapped Mugen. "He only sent the stupid invitation because he knows he'll freakin' win! You're being… seriously… stupid. And you be quiet!" (Fuu was smirking at his new, less offensive vocabulary.)

"Hmm. Would it be petty to address a letter that has an equal amount of pointless banter to him? I hate pointless words… it's against my philosophy… then again, it seems to be his style." Jin tapped his mouth. "Hm. To Miyazaki Shenji… pretentious ape who says very little using too many words…"

"Yeah, start like that!"

"No, no, don't!" cried Fuu. "You can't accept, Jin! He'll win!"

"Paper," commanded Jin. Fuu had no choice but to get him some. She and Mugen leaned over him while he wrote his reply.

"Oh, Jin!"

"What? What's he writing?"

"Please don't!" begged Fuu.

"What's he writing?"

"Jin, you can't…"

"TELL ME WHAT THE FUDGE HE'S WRITING!"

"Fudge?" said Fuu.

Mugen clenched his teeth. Fuu sighed. "He's accepted Shenji's challenge… like a big idiot."

Jin pretended not to hear her. He folded the letter, stood, and began limping out the door. Mugen continued to beg to know exactly what was said; Fuu told him to shut up and learn to read, and went on directing dire warnings to Jin, who ignored her. He stood in the muddy street under the eaves of the inn and surveyed the road; finally he found a young boy, giving him the letter and a few coins to deliver it.

Then he calmly asked Mugen to help him to the temple.

"I can't believe you want to meditate. You might lose your life tomorrow—more than your life, even—and all you want to do is sit there and think? On the very last day? Shinola…"

"Shinola?" repeated Fuu sarcastically. "Are you going to start saying 'shucks,' too?" Mugen cracked his neck in reply.

The three went to the temple and sat in its wide, empty halls, their backs to the windows. Actually, only Jin and Fuu sat with their backs to the windows. Mugen sat facing the screens, his back to Jin's. Fuu sat as close as she dared and spent hours hissing to Jin to give up. Finally, Mugen lost patience and told her to "stop being such a b—" He stopped himself in the nick of time and corrected himself. "Stop being such a biscuit."

"A biscuit?" repeated Fuu.

She saw Jin, who was supposed to be deep in thought, smile.

Saiyu, Koto, Shamisen, and Kohachiro walked down the road together, side-by-side. The four hadn't seen each other in months; after the dojo had collapsed they'd been scattered to the wind, like dandelion seeds. Koto had gone to the Kariya-dono; Shamisen had transferred to a different dojo to complete his training; Saiyu and Kohachiro had both taken to the road, only one goal in mind: to find and kill the man who'd murdered their master.

The four men commanded an air of respect. All were tall and graceful. Their scowls were testaments to their authority. Saiyu and Kohachiro wore blue kimonos with the Takeda mon. Neither were members of the Takeda family. They were not even distantly related. But they wore it as a tribute to their master and their dojo; both murdered, incidentally, by a Takeda. Shamisen had a dull red kimono stamped with a different crest, due to his transfer to a different dojo. It looked rather like a leggy star and a boxed cross. It was stamped onto his chest, but not his sleeves, like the mons on Saiyu's and Kohachiro's. Lastly, Koto had a plain black kimono. His obi was gray with small white patterns. It was the simplest design, and the most striking.

All four had daisho. They rested their hands on the hilts of their swords, each step silent and purposeful, hidden beneath their hakama. All four had perfect top-knots (although different lengths; Shamisen's was very short; Koto's was medium; Saiyu and Kohachiro hadn't cut theirs in years), perfect obi knots, strikingly clean tabi socks. They were men who were not to be messed with.

Koto stopped. The other three stopped as well. All four stared straight ahead, like they were puzzling something out.

"We've passed it, haven't we?" asked Saiyu.

"I'm afraid so," said Koto. "There's a bridge there. He said nothing about a bridge."

"I told you we would have done better to go right at the last intersection," growled Shamisen. He was the bitterest of the three, with a deep, gruff voice. Saiyu had a musical, sorrowful voice. Kohachiro's voice was flat and abrupt, like a dog barking. Koto had a very very soft voice. "I won't stand being late," said Shamisen. "Let's keep going. We can take the next turn and double back."

"Absolutely not," said Kohachiro. "We'll get lost. We must go back."

"We'll be late."

"We'll walk faster."

"I'm going straight forward. You can go back if you want," said Koto dismissively, starting forward.

"Fine! I will!" said Kohachiro. He turned and began walking back. Koto and Saiyu fingered their daisho contemplatively and looked at each other. Finally, Koto followed Shamisen, and Saiyu followed Kohachiro. After all, thought Saiyu, they'd stayed together this long.

"The other two will get lost," scoffed Kohachiro. "They'll miss the fight."

"It's on their honor," said Saiyu. "If they arrive late and we've already killed him, they'll have no one to blame but themselves."

Kohachiro gave Saiyu a sideways look. "Do you really think he'll be there, then?"

"There's a chance."

"Shenji isn't the most honest man we've ever met."

"No. But what reason would he have for lying? He's told us where he lives; that entails a risk in itself. He ran from us. He would not give us his location unless he had a reason. And our protection… that's a reason. It would be more dangerous for him to face Jin alone than to face the entire dojo, even if most are angry with him for leaving. I think they'll be there."

"Hmm," said Kohachiro. He let go of his daisho for a moment to tug his top-knot. "Even if he's not there, at least we can get even with Shenji."

"I gave him my word we would not injure him."

"You what? The little traitor abandoned us!"

"Can you blame him?"

Kohachiro fell silent, scowling more than usual. He took long strides to keep up with Saiyu.

"I look forward to having Jin answer some questions," added Saiyu after a moment.

"I don't want answers," said Kohachiro harshly. "I want vengeance."