Three important notes:

1. For those of you familiar with the North American version of Samurai Champloo, the ukiyo-e print of Fuu, Backwards Beauty was censored. In the original version, the profile of Fuu's left breast is seen.

2. Mugen's monosyllabic phrases are one of my favorite things about him (huh, feh, hn, and oi). Both of his VA's are very expressive with these phrases. However, seeing these expressions written in black and white doesn't quite do Mugen justice, so I must ask that you give these little words their exaggerated dues when reading this fic.

3. In this fic, Mugen refers to the ethereal figures that appear whenever he almost dies as 'crow men'. I wish I could emphasize that Mugen is oddly respectful of these beings, always using honorific conjugation, but since I only write in English…

See previous chapter for disclaimer and warnings.

Chapter Two: Mugen's Paper

The crow men were back again last night.

Mugen kicked absently at a stone, listening to the clang and twang that his steel-lined geta made as he walked. The crow men were quickly becoming a pain in Mugen's skinny ass. It's not like they were really there, like the times when his number was almost up and he was about to bite the big one in a big way. They were just in his dreams, standing around, not talking, and being abso-fuckin'-lutely annoying! The worst part was he knew it was all in his head, which is what made it so frustrating. So what if he'd almost been blown apart by a psychotic dickhead in a wheelchair? He didn't' have to get all traumatic about it! What kind of pussy was he, anyway?

He couldn't remember the last time he got a 'natural' night's sleep.

Unconsciously, Mugen's right hand was itching towards his pocket, but when he realized what he was doing, he reluctantly clenched his fist and kept it at his side. He was rather proud of himself for this. Self-restraint wasn't in his nature; hell, it wasn't even in his vocabulary. There would be a time for that later, as a last resort.

First though, he was going to try the usual: sake, gambling, women, and possibly picking a fight (okay, most assuredly picking a fight). Sometimes one of these four, or possibly a combination thereof, would keep the dreams at bay. And if they didn't work, if he was already too plastered, too broke, too tired to keep fucking, and out of people to slice, and the crow men were still there when he closed his eyes…there was always his secret weapon, the ultimate remedy! His pocket seemed to weigh heavy against his body as he thought about what was inside. Just one look, maybe a quick jack-off, and bam! Goodbye crow men, hello sleep! At least for one night…

Gritting his teeth, Mugen snorted. What was this shit? He actually needed a piece of paper to fall asleep? He hated feeling so weak, so dependent on something so stupid. Yet even now, he wanted nothing more then to take the picture out of his pocket and look at it.

But first he would have to deal with the assholes hiding in the trees.

Lazily, he was walking a well-worn road to a lively trading town where he heard business had been booming lately, especially yakuza business. And where there was yakuza there was usually work to be had and lots of money to be ripped off. Preferably, Mugen wanted as little as the former as possible and as much of the latter as he could get his mitts on. Yet apparently, he wasn't the only one thinking in this manner, because Mugen had counted at least five roadside bandits hidden in the trees around him. He was completely surrounded.

Other people might've called this 'trouble', but in Mugen's world this was textbook 'fun'.

"Oi!" he shouted out to what appeared to be no one, "If we're going to do this thing, you bitches are going to have to come down here and do it! Don't worry ladies, I'll be gentle." His devilish smile on the other hand, promised no such mercy. His eyes shone with homicidal delight.

The leaves rustled as one by one, the thieves fell to the ground. They carried an assortment of weapons, from scythes (which Mugen now had an understandable loathing for) to daggers and even one axe. "Glad to see you're doing this the easy way," what appeared to be the 'leader' of this little gang brandished his short sword, "Put your weapon and cash on the ground and no one gets hurt."

"Where's the fun in that?" Mugen laughed, making no move to do as he was told.

"The money now, you prick!" another robber screamed at him, waving his scythe to and fro.

"Ain't got no cash."

"Another deadbeat, huh?" smirking sarcastically, the leader inched closer to Mugen, sword at ready, "Forgive us if we don't take you at your word pal, but as you can imagine several other travelers have claimed to have no money. So we were forced to strip and search them, quite forcefully in fact, and do you know what we found?"

"I don't know. Freckles? Lice? Tattoo of your momma?"

To the leader's credit, he didn't rise to the bait Mugen was setting. Pity, Mugen's momma jokes had never failed before. "We actually found that they had cash hidden around their person," the leader said, "Must we search you in this manner?"

"Usually," Mugen started cleaning out one of his ears with his pinkie, an unconscious move he made to annoy the hell out of people, "someone buys me a drink first."

"Smartass," the moron with the axe butted in, "start by emptying your pockets!"

"Don't like to be told what to do."

Impatient with Mugen's quintessential antics, the guy wielding the scythe marched forward, weapon ready to attack and eyes watching Mugen's sword. Normally, this man would be a dead man the minute he was in striking distance, but Mugen still wasn't completely comfortable with scythes yet. Not to say he was afraid of them, (nothing could claim that kind of power over Mugen, not even the crow men), but he was wary of scythes in general. He preferred not to make a move against any scythe, until the handler demonstrated his skill. He'd wait for this guy to make the first move.

"Don't move, ya cocksucker," the bandit was a little nervous that Mugen seemed so bored with the whole situation. Quickly, he shot his hand out and began checking the closest pocket. As soon as his fingers closed around a piece of parchment, he noticed a weird look cross over the pirate's face. Misreading the wide-eyed expression, he snatched the paper and brought it out to taunt Mugen with it, "Well, what do we have here? A banknote perhaps? A deed? Seems like you're pretty upset, must be something valuable, huh?" The thief checked the parchment to see how much it was worth.

Mugen was absolutely livid and for the first time in his life, he was oh-so-incredibly-pissed that for a split second, he was completely paralyzed with rage. That dead man was touching it! Getting his grimy prints all over Mugen's secret stash, all over the only surefire remedy Mugen had against the crow men and that dickless-wonder was wrinkling it! Unfortunately for the robber, Mugen's frenzy induced paralysis was short lived.

"What the fuck?" the bandit glared at the paper, "It's just a dirty picture and you can't even see all the goods-."

Pity those were his last words.

The other four thieves gawked as Mugen jerked his sword out of the scythe wielder's chest, blood gushing from the gaping hole where his heart should've been. As if his body was the last to be informed that he was in fact dead, the robber slowly fell to the ground, stiff and unblinking. His companions watched in sheer denial as he remained unmoving and then their collective gaze returned to Mugen, who was smiling and beckoning them forward with one long finger. The shock wore off quickly however, and the remaining bandits charged him, screaming and shouting intelligible curses.

Exactly thirty-two seconds later, they were all dead. Well, except for Mugen of course, whom had his sword stuck in the torso of a corpse and had to push off with his right foot to free his weapon.

Flicking the blood and gore off his blade, Mugen returned the sword to the sheath upon his back. It surprised him how lucky he was (most people would've considered being assaulted by five robbers a streak of bad fortune, but most people didn't think like Mugen); now he could steal from the thieves what they stole from others. That should save Mugen some time.

Yet before Mugen even checked the bodies, he returned to the corpse that had the scythe in one hand and Mugen's picture in the other. Gingerly, he unclasped the chilling fingers that had wrinkled his paper. "Motherfucker!" Mugen shouted down at the corpse and kicked him once for good measure, "You bled on it!" Mugen tenderly (a term never before used on Mugen) straightened out the parchment in his hands, smoothing out the edges and crinkles. He licked his thumb and tried to rub out the few splatters of blood that had stained the corner. Succeeding in turning the stain a light pink, Mugen conceded that it could've been a lot worse, considering the amount of blood that had sprayed out of that guy's chest.

There! His Backwards Beauty was a little worn for wear, but no serious damage was done.

It might seem strange that Mugen was carrying around a copied print of Moronobu's latest ukiyo-e masterpiece, especially since the subject of said masterpiece was none other then the whiny, bossy bitch that he begrudgingly called a friend, but Mugen hadn't intended it to become anything serious. It had been more of a personal joke at the time.

He had spotted it by accident, while thumbing through the wares at an ukiyo-e store, trying his damnedest not to get a hard-on with all those other dudes around. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Fuu, staring out from a sunflower colored print. She looked so coy, so demure…so sexy! Which was funny as hell to him, because he knew she wasn't any of those things! Acting on impulse, which was the only way he knew how to act, Mugen purchased the picture and figured he could keep it around for a good laugh.

However that night, instead of laughing over it, he jacked off.

Well, he never said that just because it was funny, that it still wasn't hot!

Reflexively, Mugen started tracing the lines of the print with his calloused fingers. By now, he had memorized every curve, every color, and every shadow. His fingers ran along the bend of her neck, down the curve of her back, twirling around the circle of her generous rump. Of course, he spent extra time admiring her breast (though only its profile was visible), swiping his finger up and down along the outline. He ended at her mouth, those luscious, full lips that pouted so…promisingly. This was the ritual that kept the crow men at bay.

Of course, Mugen was all too aware that the artist had taken some liberty with Fuu's features. Not that he ever got to try Fuu's goods out for himself, but he knew the general shape of her. That butt was definitely not an accurate portrayal. This part of her anatomy he had seen for himself, outside the hot springs while she was hunched over screaming at him for something or other. He had taken a closer look then she probably would've guessed; after all, it was right there in front of his face. It hadn't been full and voluptuous like the one in the picture. Still, it hadn't been flat or boring either, just a pert, round, no-nonsense ass. The lips were exaggerated too. Fuu's lips weren't sensual buds of promise. They were wretched slabs of flesh that were either spewing forth nagging whines or inhaling ungodly amounts of food…but sometimes (not as often as Mugen would've preferred) when Fuu was thinking or sleeping or had finally ran out of things to yap about, her lips would set into that small smile, slightly pursed and velvety pink. Those lips were somewhat likeable. Then there were her tits! Talk about false hope, there was no way Fuu had hooters like that! Sure, she had said that clothes made her leaner, but there isn't enough fabric in Nagasaki to cover those melons up. The brat was flat chested as a board…that was a pity, because she did have a nice ass.

Still, Moronobu had seen Fuu's tits for himself and Mugen had not. Maybe he knew something Mugen didn't?

Snorting, Mugen carefully folded up his ukiyo-e print and stuffed it back into his pocket.

'I don't need you,' Mugen glared down at his pocket, 'If I wanted to keep those damn crow dudes away, I'd do it without your help.' That still didn't change the fact that on night's when he stared at this picture, hypnotized by it, touching it, and thinking of all the ways to which it compared to the flesh and blood model, that the crow men didn't bother him and his dreams remained empty, save for the occasional sunflower.

Now no one could accuse Mugen of being a deep thinker, Mugen would be the first to admit this. Philosophy and retrospection weren't typical requirements for survival on Ryu-kuu, so Mugen had little practice at contemplation. Still, he had pondered why it was that his Backwards Beauty was able to chase away the crow men. At first, he thought it was the sexual tension or the very act of getting off, but a couple experiments at whorehouses had proved that theory wrong. Sure, sometimes a little fuck would work if sake or gambling or fighting was involved, but they didn't work all the time. Not like the picture did, but why not?

Was it Fuu then? This question always made Mugen grind his teeth. 'Of course not,' he'd reassured himself, 'That stuck-up, little cow couldn't cook my dinner, much less soothe my dreams.' But then, why would a picture of her keep the crow men away?

To this Mugen had developed an appropriate answer that he was rather proud of, considering his mental aptitude. The answer was easy; he had never fucked Fuu. Plain and simple! There had never been a woman that Mugen had known for so long and never screwed. That's what women in his life had always been for. Sure, there were other uses, most not as fun, but the added bonus to doing business and dealing with a woman on a daily basis was that sooner or later, he'd end up between their legs. Even Koza would fool around with him when her brother's back was turned long enough. The one exception was Sara. They had traveled with her for a little while and he never scored (though not for a lack of trying). Still, Mugen wasn't hung up on Sara like he was on Fuu, probably because Sara was dead and he had killed her. If there was one thing to be said about Mugen, he was practical. Dead chicks tend to make lousy lays.

Fuu, on the other hand, was very much alive. Very much alive and very much not fucked by Mugen. It wasn't that he wanted to screw Fuu (there was nothing attractive about her, he had to tell himself over and over again), he wanted to screw what Fuu represented. How was that for some introspective analysis?

Obviously, it would only make sense that her ukiyo-e print would both arouse and calm Mugen. If he was feeling frustrated and bothered about Fuu, he was too distracted to worry about the crow men! It abstracted the nightmares by provoking a forbidden fantasy. His mind wasn't complex enough for both trauma and obsessive wet dreams. Simple as that.

There! What scholar could've done better?

Now all he needed to know was what was he going to do about it?

Mugen kicked another rock as he watched the trade town start to light its lanterns in the distance. Behind him, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow on the green rustling leaves. Soon the night animals would be out and hunting. The smell of blood was light on the breeze and Mugen bent over to rob the corpses.

0000000

Seven ryo? Mugen was not happy. What sort of roadside bandits only had seven ryo in their stash? What a bunch of slackers! Not that Mugen had too much to complain about. Seven ryo was still a nice chunk of cash. Seven ryo would get him a gourmet meal, a lot of quality sake, and some pleasurable (hopefully, talented) company tonight.

But come on! Only seven ryo? It was definitely not the jackpot he'd been hoping for.

A breezy night had fallen and the temperate weather brought generous crowds to the red light district. He was rather impressed by the town's pleasure quarter and resolved to stay here for a little while, if he could find work (with the plethora of shady characters moving about, something told him that employment wouldn't be a problem). A hired sword could be real handy in a place like this. From the streets, he could hear women singing and men laughing from inside many teahouses and brothels. The smell of food from dozens of street vendors made Mugen's stomach growl and he pushed his way along, following his nose. He thought he smelled ocean fish, a welcome change to the fresh water guppies he'd been eating. Most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference just by smell, but Mugen knew.

He'd kill for some fried flounder and crab. Or better yet, maybe some shark fin-

SMACK! For a brief moment, a wad of brown fur blinded Mugen.

"What the hell, man!" he shouted and just as quickly, the fur ball was gone. Frantically, Mugen glared about looking for the smartass that had thrown that fluffy rag at him. What he saw instead was a wide-eyed, flying squirrel perched on a second story windowsill, appearing far more intelligent then any squirrel had a right to. "Hn? You again?" glaring, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, "Can't be." What was that thing's name again? Mimi? MooMoo? All he could recall was his private name for it, 'Little Bastard', which Mugen thought suited the gliding rat much better then Momo…ah, that was it! Momo!

But was it really Momo? Mugen had to admit that all flying squirrels looked alike to him. Still, he didn't know of any other flying squirrels that would latch itself onto his face.

"So," Mugen spoke, not caring a lick for the people that passed him, staring at the crazy man talking to a rodent on a windowsill, "what do you want?"

For an adorable moment, Momo quirked her head as if listening and contemplating what Mugen said. Then the little fur ball leapt from her perch and soared over the heads of the red district patrons landing on the other side of the street, atop a particularly gaudy and large cathouse.

"Huh?" more curious then concerned, Mugen pushed his way to the other side of the street. A small crowd was gathering around the wooden showcases and Mugen wondered (and hoped) if maybe there was a free 'show'. Approaching the commotion, Mugen soon heard the booming voices of the brothel-callers:

"Who shall teach this girl the pleasures of the flesh, this fresh virgin pure as fallen snow?You sir? How about you? You look like a fine strapping young lad! Or how about the elderly gentleman there? Confucius himself proscribed a maiden's yin to be the ultimate cure for all ailments. Such a lovely Treasure House, our pretty Kura is! And young! We are not one of those sordid whorehouses that promise you youthful maidens and then get you so drunk that you can't tell the difference anyway!" The brothel-caller paused for laughter, "Our Kura, like fresh soil ready to be sowed, is an innocent, completely untouched by the hands of man. Who shall be the first? Come, come sirs, don't be so shy. He who wants fresh fruit must first split the melon…"

Totally disinterested now, Mugen was about to leave. Virgins had never particularly attracted him. They were usually very expensive and very useless in the bedroom. Why spend fifteen ryo on a nervous brat, when a tenth of that (granted, Mugen thought a tenth of fifteen was one) could purchase a seasoned whore that could make your eyes cross? Virgins weren't worth the hassle.

Then the mob standing about the wooden cages fortuitously thinned for just a few seconds and Mugen caught a quick glance of this 'Kura' girl.

"Hu-uh?" for a moment, Mugen didn't believe his own eyes. He rubbed at them comically and blinked a few times. Another man inadvertently stepped in Mugen's way and was roughly shoved aside without one word from the pirate. Son of a bitch!

It was Fuu!

Damn, who have figured she'd be this hard up for money? Well, she had been a lousy waitress…and who picked the name Kura?

Besides the clothes, hair, and cosmetics, Fuu was remarkably unchanged. Her brown hair was glossy as ever, her brown eyes as soulful as the time she had cried for him, and her obnoxious lips were thinned into a frown of displeasure (that was one difference though, her mouth was shut!). Pouting, she absently rubbed a spot on her forehead. Some men were trying to taunt her, but she was ignoring them. And even though it seriously pissed him off to confess it, he had always thought she was pretty.

Unconsciously, his right hand entered his pocket and caressed his Backwards Beauty with two fingers.

"Gentleman, gentleman," the auctioneer appeared in the entryway, "let's not haggle in the streets like butchers and bakers. Come, come inside and we shall begin a gentleman's bidding for the lovely, little flower, Kura!"

Telling himself he was just curious, Mugen followed the small crowd of potential customers into the brothel, careful to keep himself towards the back and hidden from Fuu, who never glanced up at them anyway. It's not like he was going to bid for her or anything; after all, he only had seven ryo, which wouldn't be enough for a 'first night'. Besides, what would he want with a flat chested, klutzy, little broad like Fuu anyway?

…well, he'd want to fuck her, for one thing as much as it irked him to admit it…Hadn't that been the point of his self-contemplations? She was driving him crazy because he couldn't have her? Mugen was just like the little boy who only wanted the toy on the top shelf and once he had it, was bored with it. Slowly, Mugen's mind started adding these things together. So that means…if actually laid Fuu…then he wouldn't want her anymore! Eureka!

Still didn't change the fact that he couldn't afford her right now.

However after tonight, her rates would be that of any other whore's. Which meant…well, Mugen couldn't wait to see the look on Fuu's face! She had always been so high and mighty compared to him. Such a snob, but this would bring her down a few pegs. Too good for Mugen? Not anymore.

"Pardon me sir," one of the brothel callers stopped him with a brief bow, "but all weapons must be checked in upon entry. Company policy." Wordlessly, Mugen handed over his sword, watching as other men were forced to do the same. He didn't mind as long as his trusty tanto lay secure in his sleeve.

Kicking off his steel-lined geta, Mugen strolled inside a spacious sitting room where the potential bidders were gathering around the brothel-auctioneer on his podium. Mugen decided to play a little game with himself, while he waited. Who in this diverse bunch of low-class samurais and seedy merchants and gambling lushes would win Fuu for the night? There were several middle-aged men, many graying heads, a few fatties, some filthy laborers, and one or two rather robust, young men. Mugen immediately disliked the young men, though he probably couldn't have said why.

The auctioneer kicked off the bidding at two ryo and of course it swiftly rose from three to four. There was a jump as a silk merchant bid for seven ryo and Mugen's eyebrow twitched, when it was official that he was out of the game already (not that he was going to bid, he reassured himself). "Nine ryo," some booming baritone, shouted from the middle of the crowd. There was a brief pause here as there always was when bidding was about to enter the double digits. Slowly, Mugen glanced at the guy who had made the last bid.

He was one of the ugliest bastards Mugen had ever met, and that was really saying something. The guy was a total cow; he was so fat that his rolls had rolls of their own. Buddha had a better body then this asshole. And his skin! The flaky, flabby gray of his flesh made him look like a dead fish. His eyes were yellow and bloodshot. Not to mention the smell, which Mugen could sniff out over his own stench (and that was really saying something!).

Suddenly, Mugen had a gut-wrenching vision. That tub of lard, naked and sweating, on top of Fuu, who was cowering with eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted! For a terrifying moment, Mugen saw with perfect clarity the jiggling of his flabby ass as he thrust and thrust and thrust himself into her. Mugen heard his disgusting little grunts that sounded like human farts. With sickening horror, Mugen imagined tiny, little dandruff flakes falling on Fuu's face from his scabbed and balding head. Little tears leaked from Fuu's crinkled eyes. He could practically feel poor Fuu trapped and smothered under porky's monstrous gut and between his sagging breasts, so much bigger then her own.

Yuck! Literally, Mugen shook the disturbing image from his mind.

'Oh hell no,' he soundlessly made his way through the small crowd like a frog that swims through water without making ripples. Stealthily, he pulled his tanto from his sleeve. Good ole 'ace in the hole'! With a flick of his wrist, the blade had quickly cut through the thick cotton of tubby's kimono and pressed the knife into the cold, clammy flesh of his lower back. A single drop of blood ran down the blade.

Frozen in shock, the fat man gradually turned his double chins towards Mugen.

One of the advantages to being as simple and direct as Mugen was that people very rarely misinterpreted his meaning. It was said that one of Mugen's 'looks' was worth a thousand threats. Right now, lardo was getting one of his patented 'looks'. The 'look' was quite articulately saying, 'Take back that bid or I take out your kidney.'

"Um, wait!" the ugly guy shouted out, visibly sweating already, "So sorry, but uh, I've seem to have misplaced…my purse. How silly of me!" Here he laughed a little too hysterically, "Allow me to withdraw my bid."

The auctioneer, who couldn't see Mugen behind that guy's fat ass, was a little peeved that the momentum had been killed. He also didn't notice how after he nodded in acceptance, the big man let out a sigh of relief and immediately started backing out of the room. Persevering, the auctioneer continued, "I believe the previous bid was seven ryo made by this gentleman here." The brothel auctioneer pointed to the silk merchant.

"…" The silk merchant suddenly became quit pale as he started to shiver like a toy dog. He slowly turned his head to see a wild man standing right behind him with a tanto to his back and giving him quite an expressive 'look'. There was little room for argument in a situation like this. "Yeah, about that," he mumbled, "I've decided…that…I don't want her…anymore. I'm withdrawing my bid too."

"Now see here gentlemen!" the auctioneer was getting sick and tired of this, "You can't just bid money you don't have, that's not how it works-."

"Oi!" everyone's eyes turned to the center of the room, where a strange looking man had suddenly appeared, hand tucking something into his right sleeve, "Five ryo."

Sighing, the brothel auctioneer shrugged his shoulders. Best to get back on track as soon as possible. "Five ryo from the gentlemen with the-," he barely managed not to say tattoos, because he suddenly realized that those tattooed arms and ankles were the marks of a Ryu-kuu prisoner. Instead he said, "With the…bushy hair. Do I hear seven ryo? Seven ryo anyone?"

Mugen turned around, subjecting each man to one of his 'looks'. 'Bid and die,' he couldn't make himself any clearer then that.

It was a testament to the collective crowd's intelligence that one by one, each man decided that 'Kura' hadn't been that hot to begin with and if the lunatic wanted her so badly, he could have her! She probably wasn't even a real virgin anyway…

"Six? Six ryo? C'mon, gentlemen, the only 'first night' this girl will ever have and no one will pay six ryo!" gaping like a fish, the auctioneer started whining, "Do I hear six ryo, just six piddley, little ryo? What's the matter with you fellows?"

"Dude, can we get this over with?" Mugen smirked, "I'm horny."

The auctioneer accepted defeat, having no clue what was going on, "Five ryo going once. Five ryo going twice…sold." The disappointment dripped from his voice like water, "Congratulations sir, and thank you to all our participants." Hastily, the crowd made its way out the door, filing out and keeping their heads down.

No one looked back at the waving pirate, who was flipping them all off anyway, "Kiss my ass, losers!"

The brothel-auctioneer hastily existed the room.

One of the brothel-callers, a toothless old man, approached Mugen bowing respectfully, "Congratulations again sir. Please follow me."

"Sweet," clasping his hands behind his head, Mugen followed the old guy. He had a self-satisfied expression and hoisted his nose in the air. Hot shit, who would've thunk it? Not only did he win the bidding (and any kind of 'winning' was good in Mugen's book), but he also had two ryo left! Though it didn't reflect well on Fuu that he was able to steal her for only five ryo.

Fuu…

Whether he liked it or not, his pulse was quickening as it started to occur to him what exactly he was about to do and who he was going to do it with. Of course, getting lucky always got him excited, but this time he was anticipating so much more then just getting a piece of ass. Man, he couldn't wait to see the look on her face. She was going to freak out! Then she was going to put out and perform every depraved and debauched fantasy he had ever imagined for his Backwards Beauty. And there was nothing she could do about it, because she was the prostitute and he had bought her fair and square (always a relative term for Mugen)!

Besides, Fuu should be thanking him, really. He just saved her from a deflowering from a human walrus! She owed him big time for this. And Mugen wasn't exactly sore on the eyes either. Not that he particularly cared what he looked like, but he did know that he had plenty of sex appeal. Plus, he was a freaking animal in the sack. What woman wouldn't want that for her first time? Fuu should bow down and kiss his feet in gratitude!

Mugen was led to a long hallway where he saw the auctioneer arguing in whispered tones with a very busty hooker. "Five ryo! Five!" the sexy whore was hissing at the auctioneer, "You should've gotten three times that! What sort of cheap bums were you-?" Out of the corner of her painted eye, she spotted Mugen smirking at her. Immediately, she was all smiles and swaying hips, "Welcome sir, we are honored that you have decided to take our little Kura under your wing." She bowed deeply for him, giving him ample view of her cleavage.

"Yo."

"My name is Koto," she pursed her lips into a practiced, smiling pout, "I am serving as Madam tonight. Since you won the 'first night' auction, your room is rented for the entire night, as is Kura. She is waiting there for you. May I accept payment now?" Her hand was already out and waiting.

Tossing over the five ryo, Mugen added a sixth ryo as an afterthought, "Send up some food and booze, would ya?" and the cheapskate added, "And I want my change."

"Certainly," Koto bowed again, "after I have escorted you, I shall send a serving girl with some dinner. Do you require anything else, sir?"

"Maybe," pointedly raking his eyes up and down Koto's body, Mugen winked at her, "How much for you to join us? You could help me show the new girl the ropes."

A trilling laugh spilled from Koto's red lips and her face wrinkled jovially under her white make-up. "Sir," she pretended to scold him, "you ask too much of a maiden. Keep in mind Kura is shy and new to all this. Besides," and she said this next part under her breath as she turned around, smile immediately disappearing, "that one ryo in your pocket couldn't buy my tobacco for the night, much less any of my services."

Koto glided upstairs with Mugen following close behind.

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Writing Mugen is fun! (He's such a loveable pig)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed (or shall review, hint-hint), it's a great 'fix'!

Next Chapter: Their Reunion