Author's Note: I hope everyone had a Merry Chrismakwaanzakah! I certainly did. My friends are so great... among other things, I got a new pair of hakama, ribbon for my typewriter, several pounds of Arametto coffee beans, and a $50 gift card from Petco. (That'll last me at least three days.) Less spectacularly, I got a pamphlet from one of my ex-girlfriends, entitled "Overcoming Homosexuality," and a Christmas card from my mentor, on which he'd drawn a chess set, labeled the pieces, indicated his move, and written "Checkmate," bringing to a close our two-week match. If you got a particularly awesome and/or weird gift, tell me about it in review form!

Speaking of reviews, to RubyTuesday13: I'd love to hear your theory on the use of geeky balloon animal names during the Edo period. You must send it to me ASAP, because I lie awake at night wondering what it is and how hard I'll laugh when I hear it.

To Lou: Hey, thanks for your condolences, but my dying pet wasn't a hamster! Actually, I'm not sure what she was. We said "gerbil" but that thing wasn't no gerbil... she was some sort of fat, greasy swamp rat thing of uncertain origin. (I miss her.)

To Lidless Eye: Just for you, I put in a clown car. Erm, clown palanquin thing. Whatever.

Also, I must give credit where credit is due. Thanks to Clay, owner of "The Japanese Site," from which I "borrowed" the phrase about metamorphasizing into a migratory bird and migrating. Thanks, as usual, to Paula O'Keefe's Amalgam website, which has a great section on "The Sword of No Abiding Mind." Apologies to whoever wrote the song "Memories," to whoever wrote the (real) Hippocratic Oath, to Jeffrey Hudson, to Mitsubishi, to Monty Python, and to Dai Saito. Apologies in advance to the Sprint phone company, which I make fun of in the next chapter, and from whose website I ripped quotes directly off of. Apologies to Winston Churchhill, for ending the last sentence with a preposition and for (probably) spelling his name wrong. Apologies to my reader base for this long, long, long author's note. Phew. I hope that covers it...

CHAPTER SIX

"At this rate, by the time we finish my quest, I'll be a wrinkled old hag," wailed Fuu. They'd returned to the edge of the town once more, and were sitting on the ground trying to think of new ideas.

"Opinion my want you if, improvement an be would that," said Mugen.

"Huh?"

"Improvement an would be that, said I!" said Mugen.

"You're babbling like an idiot, Mugen."

"Yeah, oh? Idiot an like look you, well."

Fuu raised an eyebrow. Jin scratched his head. "Mugen… um… we can't understand you."

"Me understand can't?" cried Mugen. "Something or stupid you are? Joke lame of kind some this is?"

Jin coughed. Fuu looked away and hummed.

"Guys?" cried Mugen.

"Mugen, say your name," commanded Jin.

"Mugen," said Mugen.

"Say 'My name is Mugen.'"

"Mugen is name my."

"Ohh," realized Jin and Fuu. "Quest," said Fuu. She growled with frustration and threw up her hands. "This is crazy."

"I have an idea!" said Jin suddenly. "What about…" He paused dramatically. "…electroshock therapy?"

"No," said Fuu and Mugen in unison.

"Come on, Jin… there's no electricity here in feudal Japan," Fuu reminded him.

"The temple seemed to have some. After all, there was a television, and light bulbs…"

"Ah, Jin, can't you see that the light bulbs are only a filament of your imagination?" asked Mugen. Fuu laughed.

"Why is it funny when he says it?" whined Jin.

"Because you're just not funny," said Mugen. "Anyways…"

"Forget the temple," said Fuu quickly. "That support group was bogus, anyway." She sighed and tapped her fingers on the ground. "Hmm. How to cure Mugen…"

"Sake," said Jin. Mugen immediately began batting his eyelashes at Jin.

"How will that help?" asked Fuu.

"It won't," said Jin. "I just felt like a massage." He gave Mugen his foot.

"Oh… yeah." Fuu sighed, while Mugen massaged Jin's foot for him. "I think maybe the only way to cure Mugen is to do what we did last time we had to cure him."

Jin frowned. There was a pause while he tried to figure out what Fuu was talking about.

"Who's Mugen?" asked Mugen, who was still kneeling on the ground and kneading the sole of Jin's foot.

"He's a lowly deadbeat friend of ours," replied Jin. "Keep massaging." He turned to Fuu. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Well," said Fuu brightly. "If we can get Mugen to face his fear, then he won't be scared anymore, right? But he's not going to agree to face his fear… unless he really has to. So what if we staged a kidnapping and—"

"You propose getting yourself kidnapped by clowns," interrupted Jin, giving Fuu the kind of condescending look that told her how stupid she sounded.

"I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas." Fuu crossed her arms. "All we need to do is show Mugen that there's things more important than avoiding clowns for the rest of his life. Besides, last time I was kidnapped, it cured him."

Mugen, on the ground, giggled slightly. "A guy who's afraid of clowns… what a loser."

"Did we ask your opinion, Geisha?" demanded Jin.

"No, Jin-sama. I'm sorry," said Mugen, giving Jin's calf an apologetic squeeze.

"So, where do you propose getting clowns who won't mind kidnapping you and then being killed by Mugen?" asked Jin.

"You could dress up like one," said Fuu.

"Or…" said Jin. "You could dress up like one and I could dress up as you."

"You cross-dress an awful lot, Jin."

"Why don't we just focus on Mugen's problem?" said Jin.

Fuu sighed. "I'm worried that this is our last hope, Jin," she confessed. "Staging some sort of fight might actually work. It's just so stupid."

"So is Mugen, Fuu," said Jin gently, patting her shoulder. "So is Mugen."

"And there's no way we'll find a bunch of clowns willing to fight with Mugen."

"That's where you're wrong!" exclaimed Jin. "I happen to have many friends from the dojo who, like me, were training to become clowns before they realized they weren't funny and would make better samurai. In fact, 'Mujuushin-kenjutsu dojo' translates into 'School for Clown Rejects who Wish to Become Samurai.'"

"I thought it meant 'Sword of No Abiding Mind,'" said Fuu.

"Shut up. No it doesn't," said Jin. "You don't even speak Japanese."

"None of us does," said Fuu.

"Oh, yeah?" said Jin. "Then what do you say to this? Boku wa watari dori ni henshin shite ijuu shimashita. "

"You turned into a migratory bird and migrated?" asked Mugen, who was so confused that he stopped massaging Jin's foot for a moment.

"Silence, Geisha!"

"I say that you should stop clowning around and contact your unfunny clown friends so we can cure Mugen and get to Nagasaki to find my Sunflower Samurai," snapped Fuu.

"Memmmmmories!" wailed Mugen. "All alone in the moooonlight!"

"Sunflower," said Jin and Fuu in unison.

"Well?" demanded Fuu. "What are you waiting for? Go call them!"

"How? There's no telephones—"

"Jin, would you please just shut up about that?" asked Fuu in exasperation. "I'm trying to advance the plot here."

"But… but it's peak hours," protested Jin. "And I could be roaming." He paused, and added, "It's sort of a pun. Roaming? Ronin?"

"Yes, yes, you used the same bad joke in an earlier story," snapped Fuu. "Now shut up and call them!"

"Okay, okay." Jin dialed while Mugen massaged his foot. "Hello, Mujuushin? It's me, Jin. No, not that Jin. No… no, the other Jin. The one that killed Mariya Enshirou." He paused. "What do you mean, you don't remember me! I killed our master!" He paused again. "Who the heck am I talking to? Can you transfer me to someone who knows who I am?" He waited for a moment. "I'm on hold," he mouthed to Fuu and Mugen. From the phone, they could hear music playing, punctuated with an occasional, "Your call is important to us!"

Fuu sighed and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Oh, hi, Matsu!" said Jin enthusiastically. "It's me, Jin! …no, the other Jin. The one that killed Mariya Enshirou." He paused. "Um, no, I was never on a rugby team. That was the other Jin."

Fuu pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah, well anyways, I need to ask a favor. I'm trying to rid someone of a deep psychological fear of clowns and I need you to round up the gang. We're going to stage a kidnapping." He paused. "Yes, I know it's a dumb plan. I didn't think of it. …funny you should ask! We did try hypnosis and right now he thinks he's a geisha."

"What a freak!" exclaimed Mugen. "He makes us real geisha look bad."

"So do you think you can come?" Fuu leaned forward expectantly. "Okay, great!" Jin flashed her a thumbs-up. She sighed with relief. "Okay… okay, bye, Matsu. Yep. I'll see you later." He hung up and put his cell phone back into his kimono. "They'll be here in a few minutes," he said.

"Perfect," said Fuu. "Um… what do we do with you-know-who?"

"Momo," said Jin. Mugen dropped onto all fours and began sniffing the ground. "We'll just tie him up until everything is ready."

"I feel like there's something very wrong about that."

"I don't see how," replied Jin, waving a rawhide bone temptingly in front of Mugen.

"Well… doesn't the Hippocratic Oath say something like 'I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure, and I will not hypnotize a patient to think he's a dog and then tie him up while I wait for my samurai clown-reject friends to arrive so we can stage a kidnapping and rid the said patient of a phobia?'" asked Fuu.

"It does say that," admitted Jin. "But I never took the oath, because I'm not a real doctor."

"Oh… yeah." Fuu sat down next to Mugen and waited for Jin's friends to arrive.

Fuu had been staring at the road for several hours, and was aware that the sun was beginning to set. She had been hoping to pass through the city that day, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. Absent-mindedly, she scratched Mugen behind the ears and asked, "Jin, are they coming yet?"

"For the twenty-eighth time," said Jin, with barely controlled patience, "no."

Fuu sighed. Jin turned back to his joke book, quietly reading to Gordon and Quentin.

She squinted at the road. There wasn't much to see. After all, everyone was in the brightly-lit town, celebrating. Hardly anyone was wandering around the roads, certainly not as the sun set. A peasant and several goats passed by; a woman balancing a basket on her head; several children hurrying in front of their parents; a palanquin carried by four burly and not-too-bright-looking men.

"Ah," said Jin suddenly. "That's them."

"Where? Where?" asked Fuu eagerly.

He gestured to the palanquin. Fuu blinked. "That? But there's hardly enough room for one person in there."

"Fuu, Fuu, Fuu," sighed Jin, rising. Fuu scurried after him, confused.

He walked out to the road. The four men bearing the palanquin knelt with a groan. Jin opened the door and bowed.

"Allow me to introduce…" he began. "Ogura Bunta… Hojo Yukimaru… Niwa Juunosuke…"

Fuu blinked in amazement as people began squeezing their way out of the tiny palanquin.

"Takase Toshi… Takase Tamasine… Mitsubishi Jin… Dai Saito… and Jeffrey Hudson."

Fuu gaped for a moment, then said, "Wait, wait, wait!" She pointed to Jeffrey. "You're the jester of Queen Henrietta of England. Why are you in Japan?"

He shrugged.

"And you! Dai Saito! You're not a clown, you're a writer for the show!"

He shrugged.

"Mitsubishi Jin!" She pointed to the other Jin, who apparently had just come from a rugby match, since he was wearing a red-and-gold uniform instead of a kimono. "There's no rugby in Japan, and even if there was, there wouldn't be a team in a samurai dojo! And I'm not even sure it's been invented yet!"

He shrugged.

"Toshi and Tamasine! You're from a different story!"

"It's called product placement," said Toshi, rolling his eyes.

"You wouldn't think the author would stoop so low as to advertise one story in another story," added Tamasine, slinging an arm over her shoulders, "but that just goes to show you, doesn't it?"

"And you three! Bunta… Yukimaru… Juunosuke! All of you are dead!" snapped Fuu.

"We got better," said all three in a Monty Python voice.

Fuu wailed with frustration and buried her face in her hands. "It's hopeless! Completely hopeless! We'll never cure Mugen, ever!"

"There, there, Fuu," said Toshi. He put an arm around her. "Would a pie make you feel better?"

"Pie?" ventured Fuu. She made the mistake of looking up. Almost immediately, someone shoved a pie in her face.

"Oh, very funny!" she growled sarcastically, trying to wipe the cream off her face as all seven samurai, (plus the writer and the jester) laughed at her. "You guys aren't half as funny as you think you are! I'm not surprised at all that you got fired from being clowns!"

"It's true," said Juunosuke soberly. "We did get fired. But then we sued…"

"For funfair dismissal," chimed in Yukimaru and Bunta together.

Fuu groaned.

"Of course, the thing about the unemployed jester is, he's nobody's fool," added Mitsubishi Jin.

They all laughed at themselves while Fuu massaged her temples. "Can we stop fooling around and get to work?" she pleaded.

"Oh, sure. Sure." Everyone nodded.

"That's Mugen." Fuu pointed. Mugen was sitting on the ground, gnawing on the back of his hand. When he saw them all looking at him, he grinned and panted.

"Totally unaware of himself and tied to a tree?" asked Bunta. He rubbed his head. "Are you sure this isn't going to turn into yaoi?"

"Pretty sure. But just in case, if you guys see oil appear, you might want to run away," said Fuu.

"Gotcha."

"So!" said Fuu. "The plan is, you'll kidnap me, and the Mugen will come rescue me, just like he did when he had hiccups, and that way, he'll be cured of his fear of clowns!"

"So, he'll be trying to kill us?" asked Dai Saito.

"Yes."

"Then I'm leaving. Come on, Jeffrey."

"Wimp!" called Yuki.

"Shut up, I created you."

"Guys, guys, please, stop fighting!" begged Fuu. "One of the reasons we chose you is because you should be able to defend yourselves with your samurai moves."

"And it doesn't really matter if you die," added Jin. "You're all supposed to be dead anyway."

"Well, that's gonna lower my morale…" grumbled the other Jin.

"Is everyone clear on the plan?" asked Fuu anxiously. "I don't want anyone to really kill Mugen. Just pretend that you want me for some sinister purpose and he'll burst in and save me."

"What sinister purpose?" asked Tamasine, raising a hand.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter, he's not going to ask you."

"What if he does?"

"Then make something up."

"Oo! Oo! How about this? We're all members of a secret society and we have paranoid delusions that Fuu is some sort of prophet who's going to help us realize our goal of global domination!" said Juunosuke eagerly.

"How about, you just think I'm pretty?" said Fuu.

The samurai stared at her for a moment, then all began laughing and slapping their knees.

"Ha ha! What a comedian!" they howled.

"I'm serious!" screamed Fuu, stomping her foot.

All the samurai stopped laughing and exchanged glances. "Fuu," said Jin gently. "It has to be a believable, realistic—"

Fuu stomped on his foot. "Oh, just shut up and let's get started!" she said angrily, crossing her arms. "The sooner we deal with Mugen's clown phobia, the better."