I do not own Samurai Champloo.
Sorry for the bold, but for some reason I wrote it like this. It's a quirk of mine. This is a fairly old fic I started and I went over it some. The setting: Many, many years in the future (call it cyberpunk?) in a city called Ode.
THE BOT, THE MECH-DOC and THE KNITE
chapter 00001 - i know how furiously your HEART is beating
warnings: accents. mild cursing.
notes: no pairing, but fuu/mugen/jin later on. Exactly what a knite is will be explained later if you don't kind of infer it.
"Wotcha? Is anyone 'ere?" Her steps are heavy against the stone floor, and Jin looks up from his pile of papers at the sound. Her accent sounds horrendously plebeian, and he wonders if he should even answer. His finger pauses over the thick red button underneath his faux-wood desk. It will lock his door, and if the visitor doesn't have good detectors they won't even find the door. A quick glance back down at the papers he had been sorting makes him wince, and decide rather quickly to reluctantly welcome them into his office.
"Step through the blue door, please," he says loudly, standing up and straightening his slightly worn suit, partially glad to be rid of those dreaded sheets for a little while long. He really should get with the times and use the paper-chips, he thinks to himself. He won't have to strain his eyes and waste his time reading all those blasted words. He'll need to play music, though, to block out the turning of gears that always echo through his skull when he get mechanical upgrades. It's been getting louder.
"Ah, so there ya 're! 'Eaven and 'ell, I'm in need of sum assistance, if ya will," a thin, gangly-looking female walks through the doorway, her bright brown eyes immediately closing in on the man. She wears a faux-vintage kimono, pink and ragged. These are the sorts of things he slides his eyes over when he finds himself in the Market Center, the things the poor restaurants make their employees sport, and just a mere step away from the temporary costume of the prossies.
He narrows his eyes at her immediately. Oh, Jin knows this type. They think that just because his building isn't as glamorous as some that he'll be cheap. He always has to state his price early to scare them off.
He clears his throat loudly. "Well . . . I'll have you know, I charge bots extra."
The 'girl's' youthful face clearly exhibits her surprise openly, which is strikes Jin as odd. Usually bots are trained from construction to keep their nerve reactions in check. Still, he gets some pleasure knowing that she hasn't bested him—he's not one of the best in his line of work for nothing. Not that you can tell by his surroundings, he reminds himself bitterly.
"Goddam. 'A did ya kna? " It only irritates Jin more that he has to wait for his dialect-lator to translate exactly what she's saying before answering. By this time, even if it happens to have a mil tritons in its purse to pull out on demand.
"Well, you gave yourself away quite a bit, but the first thing that tipped me off were your footsteps" Jin begins anyway, despite his impatience. He never wastes a chance to demonstrate his talents. "They're far too heavy for someone of your supposed body stature." After taking in her blank stare, though, he quickly changes the subject. If she doesn't even comprehend his genius, there's no point in continuing. "Well, what is it you want, exactly? I'm a busy man, and my time is money," he finishes edgily.
"I kna ya 're! I kna ya 're! That's why I came ter ya, ya clock. Ya would kna the Mae West of the Mae West, wite? Ya can 'elp me find someone, can't ya?"
"Best of the best?" he parrots slowly, wondering if this bot is really worth the trouble or the strain its putting on his brain-set. "Best of what, may I ask?"
She sighs loudly, as if the nuisance of having to explain it to the poor idiot of a mech-doc is extremely taxing. Jin finds this reaction even more maddening and wishes he could be dealing with a less expressive bot. "The bleedin' Mae West of the bloody Makers, obviously! I'm lookin' for the bloomin' geeza 'oo leaves the emblem of a sunflower on 'is creations."
He snorts derisively at this. "Well, he's not the best, apparently. You have a most biased opinion. If he were the best, I would know this sunflower fellow." Really, the ideas that some people have…
Then there's more banging near the front of the store, the loud, impatient kind that Jin recognizes immediately. This doesn't make his mood any better, and he flicks his dark eyes towards the doorway expectantly. The bot just spins its head to the right while keeping the rest of her completely still, and the two of them wait until some new character darkens the blue doorway.
He soon does, a red, almost aborigine shirt peaking out from the thick plastic jacket that seemed to take up more space than the man himself. His pants are just as ragged and worn as the rest of him, the design faded beyond all possible recognition, and his shoes are the cheap metal type that they sell on the street corners. Jin's lip curls in distaste, but he's familiar with this man. He knows what he's here for.
"Hey, Jin-doc! I have your item here, but you better pay me a little extra for all the trouble I've gone through. And that was a hell of some trouble!" He's an angry sort of man, a tuff of brown hair spilling from his holey red beanie. His long, lanky limbs are spilling from his tattered clothing—if it can even be considered clothing in the state they're in. His left leg is completely mechanical, and by the squeaks and groans coming from down there, it's not in the best condition. Still, even with eyes shut Jin can easily pick up the complete lack of enunciation and words running together when they shouldn't. It's a simple way of speaking for simple-minded people.
Still, it's better than the bot's garbled responses.
"Trouble?" The mech-doc's attention flashes sharply from his new potential customer to the newcomer. "What kind of trouble?" He knows perfectly well what kind of trouble, but he just wants the man's reconfirmation.
The shabby man ignores him completely. "Who's the chick?" he says, eyeing her openly. His metal shoes clink loudly against the wooden floor, and the bot looks down at those noises instead of up at him.
"None of your concern, Mr. Mugen," the man responds coldly. "Now, what is this trouble you're talking about?"
"Trouble? Ah, yeah, that. Erm, these guys seemed to think I was your friend and asked me to tell you that you better give 'em the money they want or else they're goin' to . . . what were their esact words . . .? Ah, yeah, cut you open an' sell your healthy, rich mech-doc parts on the green-market." The grin that spreads on his face doesn't inspire much confidence. Jin isn't completely sure this man won't do the deed himself.
"I kna!" The bot pipes up suddenly, eager to show that she, too, can be part of this conversation. "Why daan't ya come wif me and 'elp me find the bloomin' sunflower Maker?" 'Mr.' Mugen stares at her in confusion, his brain-set lacking the dialect-lator needed to understand this particular bot.
"Talk right, won't ya?" he says finally, frowning. He doesn't like to be left out of a conversation, especially like this, where he can barely understand what she's saying.
The bot sticks out her thin, grey, snake-like tongue at him. It revolts both men, but piques their interests despite themselves. After all, they're two men who work with bot parts and this. . . this isn't something you see all the time. Small, pink tongues are easy to make, and there's no logical reason a Maker who constructed such a realistic bot would give it such an obviously mechanical tongue.
"Shut up, ya. I wasn't even talkin' ter ya anyway." Turning back to Jin, her eyes are expectant. Not that Jin notices. After all, bots don't have real feelings, just nerve reactions in their central mainframe.
After a short pause, he turns away, and slips a bag down from the ceiling. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm doing this for you, bot," he's quick to hiss. "I just don't want to be here when these men come to see me, and you're very convenient." As he talks, he begins pulling things out of drawers and shoving them roughly into the bag. "That is, if you can even pay."
"You're a fuckin' bot?" Mugen cries outrageously, rushing up to the femme-bot, and looking her over in a completely different way than before. He's looking at her like only a man who knows his parts can. He'd thought that the girl had just lost her tongue in an accident and had gotten the grey contraption to replace it. It hadn't occurred to him…
She's too real. He touches her skin, and even though she flinches away, it feels human. Still, her movement is slightly lagged, and her eyes just the tiniest bit glazed, but enough for someone like Mugen to notice.
The bot looks at him sniffily, as if he's invading her privacy by looking at her so explicitly. "Get away, ya! Of course I'm a bot, ya idiot. This mech-doc knew at primarily scan, 'e did! Anyway, daan't ya 'ave any manners? I'm a lydy, I'll 'ave ya kna."
Mugen doesn't even try to stifle his laughter. "A lady? Heh, you're pathetic, is what you are! No, lemme correct myself. You're a bot, that's worse."
He doesn't even see the blow coming, but then again this knite was never known for him far-sightedness. He slams into the wall directly behind him hard, and several over-priced mech pieces fall from the shelves. The room seems to shake, but the bot doesn't seem the littlest bit fazed, just smug and satisfied at the crack his body had made as he hit the wall.
"Hey! Watch out for my merchandise, please! I happen to make a living out of those things." Jin picks up the fallen items before Mugen can snatch them and begin hurling them at the femme-bot in a blaze of white fury. Then, without even honoring the bot with a glance in its direction, Jin plows on. "Well, can you pay me or not?"
Now it's her turn to sound derisive. "Of course. Wot kind of frill 'n' twirl do ya fin' I am?"
Jin surveys his surroundings with a quick eye, and then snaps his bag shut. The leather straps tie themselves up securely and as the mech-doc picks it up it folds up on itself, condensing into a small square. None of those present are even the slightest bit bothered by this common sight except for the fact that it's rather archaic now that most people do have so many material things to carry.
"The kind of 'frill and twirl' that may cheat me out of my well-earned payment. I want an advance."
"Hey, hey, hey!" Mugen cries out, standing up, reading to fight for his share. He's already gotten over the initial shock of colliding with the wall, and the only indication that Mugen had been injured at all is the blood slipping down the back of his neck from underneath his thick hair. His voice and livid attitude is completely unchanged. "What of my payment, eh? I got that bit of shine for you, didn't I? I gave you the heads up for those guys." The thin line of lime green blood oozes onto his jacket collar and disappears from view.
"Exactly what I need the advance for, Mr. Mugen," the mech-doc answers primly. Mugen snorts in disbelief.
The bot then looks nervous for the first time. "'Eaven and 'ell, y'see, I don't 'ave the chuffin' payment na, but I will . . . soon! Jus' folla me abaht a bit, and I'll get sum clip clop ter ya soon."
"Soon ain't good enough," Mugen yells, flailing his arms about dramatically. "I want myself a drink tonight!"
Jin and the femme-bot ignore him. "I'll agree to this," Jin begins cautiously. "But only on one condition. Let me make a few corrections to your system."
"Say wot! I daan't fin' so. a woman's body is 'er shrine, or wotnot. I won't let ya play 'round wif me 'ead!" She clutches her pale arms around herself possessively, shaking her head furiously.
"Look, I swear on a mechanical doctor's honor that I won't do anything to drastically change your individual system plans. Just a few non-important changes and some probing into your memory banks for information. That's barely enough to know how fast your clock-heart is beating. It's not a bad deal, especially since I'm handing you my expertise practically for free."
"Wait, wait! What is she payin' you for anyway? Mech-docs aren't pollies, for Cainssakes! Whatcha want this guy to look for your stupid Maker for anyway?" Mugen isn't used to being ignored, since he's usually this huge, obnoxious presence.
She glares over at him, apparently still annoyed at him for his insults and the fact he'd survived her blow. "If I 'ave ter explain it . . . If I'm gonna be garn 'round lookin' for me Maker, I need someone 'oo understands the bloomin' world 'e'll bee 'ive in. I grew up as a cook's maid in sum almshouse, so I daan't kna aw the chuffin' technical garbage. That's wot I need this bloke for."
"So . . . you know how to cook right?" Jin doesn't like the look in his eyes as Mugen asks the femme-bot this excitedly. He tries to catch its eye, to get the femme-bot to shake its head and deny it, but it's done in vain. It nods its head grudgingly. "And you're gonna pay this bloke as soon as you can, right?" Another nod, and a frown. "Then he can pay me, right?"
Before the femme-bot can answer again, Jin interrupts, impatient to get going. "Yes, yes!"
"Great," the thief says with a wide grin. "It looks like I'm a'comin' with you two then!" The other two look less than pleased, but don't say anything. Mugen's imposing presence works to his advantage occasionally. "What's your ID, anyway?"
The femme-bot sighs loudly, a very feminine reaction. "Ya can call me Fuu, but . . ." The femme bot frowns, and opens her mouth to finish. She was to scream that no, he will absolutely NOT be traveling with them, intimidation or not. She doesn't need him to tag along, especially for his own selfish need for alcohol.
"Jin, I know you're in there!" comes a loud, booming mech-voice from the front door. "Come on out in a milsec or I'll find myself tompin' in there to gechya."
It seems this unwelcome interruption decides for the femme-bot.
Jin bites back a crude curse, and looks around, knowing very well there isn't a back door to his shop. He really hadn't expected them so quickly, but then again his debt is fairly heavy. Fortunately, the annoying the femme-bot is actually of some use, and provides an easy solution to this dilemma. "Folla me, boys, and scan yer step." She kicks out a large portion of the wall with a well-aimed punch, creating a dangerously makeshift, but functional doorway. She grins at the wide-eyed looks the mech-doc and the knite give her, and leads their way out of the shop and into the angry, bleeding city of Ode.