I do not own Samurai Champloo.
WILL YOU JOIN IN OUR CRUSADE? WHO WILL- Ehm. Sorry. Too much show tunes...Alright, depressing character-death this way comes. Fuu-centric? No way, I never write that. Cough.
89 words.
Beautiful Corpses
They were the strong ones, weren't they? The ones who held the swords and used them so wonderfully, so skillfully, like dancers who know their bodies so perfectly. The two of them alive, it was beautiful.
Now they weren't beautiful. Death didn't leave beautiful corpses. Fuu understood that now. Beauty was in movement, in touches, in warmth. Death was anything but.
So she lay down between their still—forever still, never beautiful—corpses, and went to sleep, hoping to never wake up. Hoping to be ugly, like them.