(Author's Note: Hurrah for me! Jin's journal has returned! Mugen and Fuu have(sorta) infiltrated the dojo! And Jin goes "hmm!" Yuki torture coming up in subsequent chapters... Yuki-and-Jin torture, I suppose would bethe more accurate term. And yes, "Jin Junior" will be making an appearance...)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"So what did you say your name was?" asked Toshi dreamily, his head propped up in one hand.

"R—" began the geisha. "I mean, uh, Rei. Rei's my name."

"Rei," sighed Toshi.

"Oy, Toshi." Tamasine strode past and flicked his head. "Stop acting like such an animal."

Toshi sat up and shook his head like he was just waking up. "I'm not acting like an animal!"

"Your tongue was trailing out of your mouth."

"I don't mind," said Rei sweetly. "I'm honored by the attentions of such an attractive samurai like yourself."

"See? She thinks I'm hot. Buzz off."

Tamasine scowled and obediently walked away muttering. He flopped onto his knees between two samurai. One was dozing off, head drooping and then popping up as he struggled to stay away. The other was hunched over a glass of sake, and jumped when Tamasine sat next to him.

"Give me a shot of that, will you?" demanded Tamasine.

"Er—sure." The samurai to Tamasine's right passed him a drink, which he downed in a single gulp. "You can hold it," said the other samurai admiringly.

"Yeah, well, when your brother is acting like an idiot, sometimes you just gotta have a drink," grumbled Tamasine. He shook his head and added, "Tamasine, by the way. Sorry… I don't recognize you."

"Oh," said the other samurai. "I'm… erm… Meiyo."

"Yeah? Sorry… still don't remember you. Maybe that's just the sake."

"Yeah," agreed Meiyo, who was casting furtive glances around the room frequently, like he was searching for something. "Hey, did that chick just get here?"

"You mean her?" asked Tamasine, pointing to Rei. "I think so. Don't get any ideas, though. Toshi's already slobbered all over that one."

"Hm," said Meiyo, rubbing his chin. He had a nick on his jawbone, like he'd just shaved. Subconsciously, he reached behind his back, groped for a moment, scratched the back of his neck, cracked it, and went back to being hunched over his drink. He looked like a beggar with daisho—and indeed, probably was.

"Hard times, since the murder," commented Tamasine.

"Yeah," said Meiyo, trying to peer over the heads of others to see Rei. "Hey, did another girl come in with that one?"

"No," said Tamasine.

Meiyo's shoulders sagged. "Crud," he muttered.

"Expecting someone?"

"Yeah… but looks like she gave me the slip." He scratched his neck violently again. Tamasine wondered if he had lice.

"Been living on the streets?"

"Yeah."

Tamasine bobbed his head. "Damn," he exclaimed with sudden passion, slamming down his sake cup, "I'd like to mess him up."

"Join the club, Toshi," said Kohachiro, settling down across from them. Meiyo suddenly became very interested in the table top.

"I'm Tamasine," said Tamasine.

"Oh. Apologies."

"How many times do I have to go over this? Short hair! Tamasine! Long hair! Toshi!" yelled Tamasine, gesturing wildly.

Meiyo mumbled something and started to rise, but Tamasine grabbed him back down. "Stay a while! Have another drink—tonight's a party! Kohachiro-san, you remember Meiyo-san here… Huko's shudo partner?"

"Huko's what?" asked Meiyo helplessly. Tamasine seemed to suddenly remember Meiyo very, very well even though he'd had no idea who he was moments earlier.

"Yes, yes, Huko… killed himself… very sad…" mumbled Kohachiro without looking very closely at Meiyo. "Very sorry, Meiyo…"

Meiyo looked bewildered.

"Died the good way, though," shouted Tamasine excitedly, waving his sake glass and sloshing liquid all over the table. He was the type who got easily stirred up, and his own voice tended to make him more and more passionate. "One of the first ones after him! Tracked him north, while the rest of us bastards were looking south! Huh! Lost an arm, right!"

"Tamasine!" exclaimed Kohachiro. "Don't talk about Huko like that!"

"Meiyo should be proud!" cried Tamasine, slapping Meiyo on the back and causing his to spray sake everywhere. "He had a lot of courage! Gave Jin his fight's worth, I'll wager… died with glory! TO HUKO!" he shouted, raising his glass. Everyone shouted back to him, even though many hadn't known Huko personally, and no one knew why they were toasting him, and some didn't even have glasses to raise.

"Yeah, well, I've got to do something—" said Meiyo, rising.

"Nonsense! More drinks!" said Tamasine, grabbing him.

"Let him go, Toshi!" hissed Kohachiro.

"TAMASINE!" yelled Tamasine, letting go of Meiyo. Meiyo took five steps, tripped over his hakama, and fell to the ground with a crash, nearly impaling himself on the swords. He picked himself up hastily, but most of the people in the area were laughing (too much sake, they all said with a chuckle). Tamasine staggered over and helped him up, laughing like a hyena and dusting him off.

"Come on, let's go. It's too crowded here anyways," he said.

"What? No, I've got to stay—" insisted Meiyo.

"Tonight's a night to let loose! Let your hair down!" said Tamasine. He made a playful swipe at Meiyo's hair; Meiyo put his arms over his protectively. Tamasine didn't let that stop him; he threw an arm around Meiyo, and the two staggered and tripped their way across the room.

"What about Jin?" cried Meiyo desperately as Tamasine, aided by two others who were nearly as drunk, dragged him toward the door.

"Don't worry, Meiyo! You'll have your chance. Damn, I swear it! I'll get you in to see him! Takeda bastard!" exclaimed Tamasine.

"Bless you, Toshi," said one of the other samurai.

"TAMASINE!" shouted Tamasine. "TAMASINE!"

Fuu sat hunched over, nearly doubled, on a rickety wooden fence. It was supposed to keep people from crossing through an alleyway between two buildings, but was so low it didn't do much good. Fuu had kicked off her sandals; they laid in the dust road in front of her. Her bare feet were flat against the fence for balance; her arms were crossed and she'd bent her body over them for warmth. She could see her breath.

She was watching the dojo across the road. She couldn't go there; she could only hope Mugen and Rini were there, and not getting killed. So far, she hadn't witnessed any scenes of destruction. There was a lot of loud laughing; from time to time, someone would come in, or a group of samurai (often drunk) would stumble out and go down the street in search of a party with less samurai. The first level was well-lit; but the upper level seemed deserted. The spaces between the wooden slats of the windows were dark, and there wasn't any movement.

Fuu decided to take a walk for warmth. She hopped off the fence, slipped on her sandals, and walked down the street, huffing and rubbing her arms. The dojo was massive, an obsolete monument to a once-great movement. She imagined it standing, empty and cold, studentless.

She walked down the whole block and then turned on a road, keeping the dojo to her right. She was surprised to see a square of light through one of the upstairs windows.

Fuu cast a careful glance around, then stood on tip-toe, as if she could hope to see into the window. Needless to say, she couldn't.

She looked around again, then gathered up her courage, and yelled, "JI-I-I-IN!"

Her voice echoed for a moment in the empty streets. The light in the window didn't even flicker.

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled again, "JIN! JIN!"

This time she was rewarded. The light flickered, was temporarily blocked, and suddenly a man was leaning out the window.

"Who are you?" he demanded rudely.

"Where's Jin?" asked Fuu anxiously.

"Who are you?" he repeated, in a dull voice that implied he was asking about the weather.

"I'm—I'm Fuu," said Fuu. Struck with sudden inspiration, she added, "Jin's my—my beau."

"The Takeda? The Thousand-Man-Killer?" asked the man in surprise.

"Well, the Thousand-Man-Killer's Killer," said Fuu. "I mean, he hasn't killed a thousand people…"

"But calling him the Thousand-Man-Killer's Killer is too long," said the man thoughtfully, looking up at the starry sky and leaning heavily out of the window on his arms. "Actually, mostly we just say Jin…"

"Well, do you know where he is?" asked Fuu, who thought their conversation was pointless and frustrating.

"Yep," said the man.

"Can I see him?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," said the samurai quickly. "I'm very sorry, Ma'am."

"But I need to!" insisted Fuu. "To—to say good-bye!"

"You should have considered this before you were engaged!" snapped the man, his resolve hardening. "He's a dangerous murderer!"

"Can't I at least see him so he can… he can…" Fuu swallowed. "Say good-bye to his baby?"

The man nearly fell out the window. "He's got a child?"

"Oh—yes!" said Fuu quickly. "A little baby boy! And he won't even remember his daddy… it's so tragic! He's our first and only! The apple of Jin's eye! Only a few months old! Please, can't I see him?"

"Where's the baby?" asked the man cynically.

"I—left him with a friend," lied Fuu. "But I could see Jin if I had him with me, right?"

"What's his name?"

"The baby?" asked Fuu numbly.

"Yes. The baby," said the man patronizingly.

"Oh. Um… his name… his name… which I'm about to say, right now... his name is… um… Jin Junior."

The man no longer looked pitying. "Get out of here, woman! When I see a baby, then I'll talk!" He went back inside and slammed the screen back.

Fuu stared up at it a moment, rubbing her arms and wishing it would open. Instead, she saw the light flicker, and then go out.

Jin was sitting in the corner, legs both crossed for the first time since his leg injury, nenju beads in one hand. The only sound in the room was the faint rattle as Jin's thumb moved over one, and his deep, rhythmic breathing.

Shenji came in, slamming the screen with a violent crash. Jin didn't move. A single eye opened.

"Not as lost in nirvana as I thought, huh?" asked Shenji.

"Just because I'm meditating doesn't mean I lose all my senses," said Jin quietly, slipping the beads back onto his wrist. Painfully, he climbed to his feet, his usual grace somewhat impeded by his hurt leg. Shenji waited for him to rise.

"Why are you here?"

"Do you have to ask?" replied Shenji. "To say good-bye, Jin. Tonight's your last night, you know."

"Hmm," said Jin with a bow of his head. He looked like he was commenting on something as trivial as rain ruining a picnic.

"Don't you care?"

"My death is inconsequential."

Shenji stared at him.

"I'm nothing more than a single grain of sand is to a beach."

Shenji kept staring.

"There are worse things than death."

Shenji finally smiled. "You never fail to surprise me, Jin-san."

"Nor you me, Shenji-san," said Jin. "I wouldn't have expected you to come without weapons."

Shenji's leered at him. "What need have I for swords? I didn't come here to fight, Jin-san." He began stalking around the edge of the room; Jin circled the opposite way, keeping the center of the room between them. The room itself was a small one; it had once been home to Enshirou's younger and less important students. There was a bed in one corner, on the floor, and an oil lamp in another, but nothing else; there were no windows. The boy who'd previously occupied it had drowned over a year ago, when he'd given up the search on Jin and attempted to walk home by foot, getting caught in a sudden downpour.

"Besides," continued Shenji as they circled like dogs, "you can't fight without your swords."

"Yes, I can," hissed Jin.

"Really? I've never seen it. When was the last time we were both disarmed? Oh, yes, now I remember…"

"Don't," warned Jin.

"…you didn't fight back then, as I recall…"

"I'll fight you now, if you want," snapped Jin. "I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"You may be a spectacular swordsman, but without those blades, you're as worthless as dirt," said Shenji calmly. "I, on the other hand, was always celebrated for my abilities in hand-to-hand."

"If your hands are half as powerful as your jaw, I'll be in great trouble indeed," said Jin scathingly, even though he was starting to look troubled.

Shenji didn't wait; he pounced. Jin instinctively jumped away; Shenji grabbed a handful on kimono, swung his leg around, and tripped Jin. Jin grabbed him, and together, they fell onto the ground and went rolling.

"Ha!" barked Shenji triumphantly, pinning Jin's shoulders and digging into his wrists with his nails. "You have the worst luck when it comes to wrestling, Jin."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. I don't like crude fighting styles," said Jin softly. He kept his head raised from the floor, turned to talk to Shenji, both arms straining.

"Pity. Your problem is actually confidence, you know. You shouldn't have darted away from me when I came at you. You shouldn't have let me unsettle you. But I guess it's difficult to get old fears under control."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Glad to hear it," said Shenji in a completely unconvincing tone, squeezing Jin's wrists until Jin's blood began welling under his nails. Jin didn't make a single noise, nor give any other indication that he was in pain. And perhaps he wasn't.

Shenji moved—just for a moment—and Jin wrenched away, furious. He scrambled from under Shenji and began to rise; Shenji was faster. He got up and delivered a well-aimed kick at Jin's half-healed leg. Jin yelled for the first time—a muffled cry he obviously didn't want to give—and fell back onto the floor.

"Had that leg looked at yet?" asked Shenji, standing over Jin and beginning to untie his obi. "Wouldn't want it to become permanent. You know, prolonged injuries can lead to limps and so on… and it'd be a shame to have a weakness like that…"

"I'd hate to be handicapped with the loss of something," growled Jin, staring pointedly into Shenji's one eye. Shenji lunged at him; the two fought for a moment like cats before Shenji managed to yank his wrists together.

"You know, Jin-san…" he grunted as he subdued a struggling Jin, "…attitude isn't a becoming trait for you."

"Nn!" protested Jin as the cloth began cutting into his wrists' skin.

"Now," said Shenji promptly, stretching out on Jin and propping up his elbows on Jin's back, "there's something that's been bugging me, Jin, and maybe you can explain it to me. I heard Toshi mention something about a letter. Or maybe it was Tamasine. One of them, anyways. And I found it rather curious that you were equipped to write a letter… so I thought I'd ask about it."

Jin was silent.

"Nothing to say? I'll figure it out myself, then."

Jin's body tensed automatically when Shenji reached over his shoulder and put a hand inside his kimono; he relaxed slightly when it came out, then tensed when he realized Shenji had taken his journal.

"Jin, I had no idea you were a writer!" exclaimed Shenji amiably.

Jin's only reply was to lay his cheek on the wooden floor.

"How long have you kept this? Oh… only a few weeks… how disappointing. Still, I'm sure there's something worthwhile in here. Let's see…" He began flipping through it, uninterested. "Here we go… 'Yesterday while he were walking, Mugen asked to try on my nenju. He's developing a bit of an obsession but I think it might be good for him to learn to have a little faith in something, even if it's only a bracelet right now. While they were on his wrist he examined them closely, then said, "Too bad they don't go with my ink, right?" It's the first time I've ever heard him mention the bands on his wrists. I never asked where or why he got the tattoos. Now I'm sure he's self-conscious about them. If only Fuu wasn't there. I would have taken his hands and stroked his wrists and told him they don't matter; they're only marks. They don't define him any more than my scars define me; and he's beautiful, in his own way. But I wouldn't dare say any of it with her hanging around; she was in front of us, trailing slowly like she was listening. Instead I said, "Hmm." I wish now I hadn't. I wish I'd said everything I was thinking: that the tattoos are subtle, striking, even erotic.' Aww, Jin. That's so sweet." Shenji smirked. Jin forced himself not to react; he stared at the wall, completely focused, pretending not to hear.

"Alrighty..." hummed Shenji, flipping through the pages. "What are all these little bits? 'For sacred things, the cobwebs never stir. I wish there was a way I might console them.' Console what, the cobwebs? Lost me on that one… oh, here's a good part… 'I think Fuu is becoming jealous of the relationship Mugen and I have. She's only fifteen and takes it personally. Today she was prying. I was trying to practice my kata and she was in the way, picking flowers idly and asking things like, "So have you and Mugen figured out where we are yet?" I said, "Hmm." It sounds like she's accusing us of discussing things between each other and purposely leaving her out. Maybe she likes Mugen. I can see why she would; he's a reckless, happy-go-lucky person, easy to like and loathe at the same time. Knowing that he has a gentle side has probably only increased whatever girlish little crush she has. Still, I worry she'll begin to nag at Mugen. The two already have a sort of love-hate relationship. They're always chiding each other playfully. If she and Mugen ever evolved into something more, I don't know what I'd do. I don't think Mugen has any interest in her but that could change; he doesn't really have any standard in women. What if he and her did develop into a couple? I can see it clearly, her trying to lure the soft side out from Mugen's violent, feral character, and Mugen, pulling her along, just like he's pulling me along now, the carrot in front of the stubborn ass. He would drop me like a dull blade. Then where would I be?' Poor Jin. I figured you'd become someone's lucky bitch after I left you. Then again, I figured you'd do a little bit better than this guy. Is that really the best you could get? A petty criminal? Eh… I guess no one else wanted anyone as disgusting as you…"

He picked another page at random. "'I had a dream about Yukimaru last night. I was walking in the forest and I saw him standing against a tree, as a tree. I tried to strike him but my sword went right through him. Then it began stuck; the tree was suddenly solid, with my katana embedded in it, and Yuki was behind me. I don't know what this means. I can't sleep now because I keep remembering him. I remember playing shougi one time with him. He never beat me; but when I checkmated him, he asked why I never let him win. I pointed out this would defeat the purpose of the game, which is to learn to plan ahead and expect moves. Yuki was never very good at this… anyways, he said that just to let him win once would at least show him I had no ill-will toward him. I think his exact words were, "Sometimes I think you're out to get me." I said, "Hmm." I wish now I'd apologized. I wish I could apologize for a lot of things, and take it all back.' But you can't, because he's dead." Shenji snapped shut the book and tossed it aside. "Just like you'll be this morning. Who knows? Maybe you'll see him again. Maybe then you can grovel for forgiveness for abandoning him here."

"I was protecting him," whispered Jin.

"Protecting him?" Shenji chuckled. "From what? Yourself? He would have been glad to start a life on the run with you. He was heart broken when he found out you'd disappeared. Without even leaving a note…"

It was the first time Shenji had gotten any reaction at all out of Jin. He was immensely pleased by it; he continued lazily, watching Jin grow more and more upset.

"You probably don't know what happened after you left, do you? No, you don't have any idea the havoc you caused. Let me tell you, then. You deserve to know before you die. Besides, you might find some of the details interesting…"