See previous chapters for warnings and disclaimers.

(I'm reading the Samurai Champloo manga series, highly recommend it, very funny, great Mugen moments!)

Chapter Three: Their Reunion

Turn, hit him with the picture frame, and jump to the neighbor's roof

Turn, hit him with the picture frame, and jump.

Turn, hit, jump.

Fuu was compulsively going over her plan for escape over and over in her head. Her room for the night was sparse, except for the futon, a small mirror stand for 'prepping', and a few dim lanterns. There were no vases in this room, but many heavy framed 'pillow pictures' were lining the walls as decoration. She took one small enough to hide on her person, but thick enough to knock a guy silly. It was dangerous to wait for the john to get here first, yet if she didn't, he'd arrive in a few moments and discover her missing. By knocking the pervert out, she was buying some time before they realized she was gone. The jump to the neighboring teahouse worried her as well. She was on the fourth story of the brothel (a virtual skyscraper in Edo Period Japan) and a fall to the cobblestones below could be fatal. It was risky plan and not a very good one, but she didn't have a lot to work with.

Footsteps were slowly coming down the hallway and towards her room. Carefully, she kept her back to the door, hiding the frame in her lap. She tried her hardest to look demure and shy, not like she was about to beat the hell out of anybody.

The door slid open. She heard Koto wish someone a goodnight and then bare footsteps entered the room. The door slid shut.

Turn, hit, jump.

There was an unbearable pause in which Fuu almost panicked and threw down her weapon, confessing to all, but then her 'customer' started walking towards her; slow deliberate footsteps that almost sounded too 'light' and therefore vaguely familiar. He stopped behind her, forcing her to hunch over to keep the frame hidden. Straining her hears over her own short, nervous breaths, she heard him kneel and felt a hand deliberately caress her back. Involuntary goose bumps broke out over her limbs as she felt his warm breath on her ear.

"Take THAT!" shouting, Fuu spun about and slung the wooden picture frame with all her petite might, right at the guy's bushy head-.

Snatch! Her makeshift weapon was caught and swiped away from her with effortless ease.

"'Sup Fuu," said Mugen, eyeing the ukiyo-e print in his hand with interest.

A pang of bittersweet happiness ran through Fuu's rapidly beating heart, so fierce that it ached in the most wondrous way.

Indicating the carnal picture, Mugen said conversationally, "I've done this before," and added with pride, "twice."

Fuu felt a wave of disbelief and vertigo overwhelm her. He'd come for her. Just when she thought all was lost, he'd come for her, again!

"…Mugen…" clasping her hand to her mouth, Fuu took in the sight of him. For so long, she had been remembering him as he was that day in the ruined church…the blood and water, the rage…But here before her was bushy hair, tattooed arms and ankles, same raggedy clothes, and that obnoxious smirk, all accounted for. "Mugen!" she leapt forward and threw her arms around his neck, ignoring the tears that threatened to make her make-up run, "Oh Mugen!"

To his credit, Mugen sat on the floor and silently took the suffocating hug without complaint. Non-sexual contact was always a little awkward for him, plus one of her hairpins was poking him in the eye. He was also immediately disarmed by the smell of her, a scent he recognized from memory and had always tried to imagine while looking at his Backwards Beauty. It was a rare and subtle smell that only those accustomed to water knew, the scent on a breeze of fresh, river water just before it joined with the sea. Fuu felt warm and inviting against him and even Mugen was impressed to discover just how quickly he was getting a stiffy.

Clearing his throat, Mugen scrunched his eyebrows together and glared at the frame in his hand, "Yeah right. You acting all stoked to see me, but a second ago you were going to jack me upside the head with a dirty picture."

Fuu finally released him, wiping away unshed tears as she sat back. Her smile literally reached ear to ear. He was here, it was really him! "I didn't know it was you, you jerk!" Fuu said laughing, "I thought it was some other pervert."

Mugen finally smiled at her and Fuu's blood immediately started to race, "Why would you club your customers? That's not very good business sense."

"To hell with business sense," and just like that, it was as if no time had passed between them; her hand were on her hips, her bottom lip was sticking out in a frown, and her eyebrows twitched. This was the Fuu he remembered, "Serves those bastards right for patronizing a yakuza brothel that actively entraps, blackmails, and kidnaps cute, young girls into a life of slavery!"

"You were kidnapped," Mugen asked flatly, "again?"

"Well…yeah," sheepish, Fuu started twirling a loose hair around her finger.

"Typical. What scam did you fall for this time?"

"Smuggled earrings."

Under his breath, Mugen grunted, "Dumb broad."

Fuu's fists clenched. Jeez, one minute reunited and he was already wearing on her last nerve. Yet, her frustration was short lived. How could she stay mad at him? Mugen had come for her! Just like the countless times before, he had appeared to rescue her. Fate really did work in mysterious ways. She blushed at the implication that perhaps something more 'cosmic' was going on between her and Mugen. "How on earth did you find me?" she clasped his hand, without realizing she did so.

"Your funny, little rat got stuck to my face," boyishly, Mugen pouted, his bottom lip rivaled that of Fuu's. This 'look' usually ticked off Fuu to no end, but now it was like the face of a god to her.

"But what were you doing before that?"

Mugen snorted rather grotesquely and shrugged, "Same old, same old. Getting work where I can. Hired sword, bodyguard, that kind of shit. You?"

"Waitress."

This time, Mugen laughed at her, "Still spilling tea on yakuza heirs, klutzo?"

"No-oo!" flattered that Mugen remembered their first meeting so well, Fuu playfully socked him in the arm and Mugen didn't miss the flirtatious undertone of the contact.

This was going a lot easier then he thought it would! Maybe Fuu really was relieved that her first time was with a friend and not some ugly, fat letch (not that Mugen wasn't a letch, but at least he wasn't fat or ugly). "So," leaning on his arm to get 'casually' closer to Fuu, Mugen absently picked at her purple kimono, "I came here, 'cause rumor has it some up-and-coming badasses need some hired muscle. Ya know, roll some cash, bust a few heads, have a good time…a really good time."

Mugen's notorious 'looks' weren't just for threatening people. In fact his 'looks' were quite versatile; he had sexy 'looks', seducing 'looks', 'looks' that practically growled, 'You know you want to fuck me.' And it was a combination of these three that Mugen was now subjecting Fuu to. He lowered his head, peering out under his brow with flashing, intense eyes that made direct contact with her own. His lips parted in a cocksure smile that was more like a hungry wolf baring its fangs, than anything remotely human. He had to think of a way to change this conversation from friendly to blatant sexual innuendo…

"So," Fuu said, "we should probably get to it."

"Say what?" okay, that was a little too easy, "You don't waste any time, do ya?"

"We'll need all the time we can get."

"You don't wanna," slightly perturbed, Mugen could barely believe he was asking this question with a straight face, "talk? Catch up a little?"

"We'll talk after," getting up Fuu, turned her back to Mugen, "Now come on."

There are only five deeds in this vast world that Mugen will perform when ordered to do so. They are as follows: 'Let's fight', 'Have a drink', 'Eat up', 'Place your bets', and 'Let's fuck' (not to be confused with 'Let's fight'). Not only will Mugen obey these 'commands' without question, he'll also embrace these tasks with vigor and gusto. So when Fuu wanted action, he was up and rolling.

"It might be too dangerous to climb down, there are yakuza guards around the courtyard. But I was thinking, maybe of jumping to the teahouse's roof, then climbing down the other side," sliding open the window, Fuu pointed to her intended target, "It's a little too far for me, yet you should be able to clear it easy. I'll send you with my obi and when you're on the other side, you can pull me up- AAHH! MUGEN! What the hell are you doing?"

Having turned around, Fuu watched dumbfounded as bare-chested Mugen struggled out of his white shirt, which had caught one of his blue-jade earrings. His red gi had already been unceremoniously thrown into the corner.

"Feh! What does it look like I'm doing?" His head freed, the white shirt soon joined his gi in the corner. "Unless," flashing a smile that would've been the envy of any devil, Mugen's thumb hooked into the waistline of his shorts and teasingly lowered them just enough to get a tantalizing hint of his dark treasure trail, "you wanna do the honors yourself?"

"Eeew! Gross, you pig!"

"Are you shitting me?" Mugen snapped, "It ain't nothing you haven't seen before!"

"So?" Fuu snapped back, "Doesn't mean I want to see it again!"

"Sorry Fuu," sarcasm practically spewed from Mugen, "but I didn't bring the sheet with the hole."

Exploding, Fuu threw her arms into the air, "What are you talking ABOUT?"

"You're the one who said we should get to it!"

"Yes, get to escaping!" for emphasis, she pointed to the teahouse's roof, "What did you think-?" Fuu abruptly gasped, mouth gaping in horrible realization, "Y-you…you thought I was going to do you!"

"…wait a second."

"Of all the despicable things," she sputtered for breath, "How could you…Did you actually think…You have done some…Could you really have…ugh!" Finally she was able to form a cohesive sentence, "I-am-no-whore-you-perverted-creep!" She frantically looked around for something to throw at him, but had to settle for throttling the air in front of her in rage. The effect wasn't quite the same.

Muscles twitched along Mugen's arms while he clenched his fists tightly, "Are you telling me I just wasted five ryo?"

"I'm telling you tha-," a brief pause while Fuu's big eyes blinked twice, soaking the last bit in, "Five ryo? Five? My virginity was only worth five gold ryo?"

"Guess so," this time Mugen's smirk was not cute or endearing to Fuu.

"You tightwad!" adding quietly, Fuu sulked, "Koto said I could make a dozen ryo easy."

"Would you put out if I got you five more ryo?" though trying to stay casual like he was still teasing, Mugen didn't completely mask the edge of hope in his voice.

"Five and five is ten, Mugen," Fuu corrected him out of habit, "You'd need seven ryo to make a dozen."

Reaching out a long arm to try to touch her, Mugen whispered, "I can get you seven."

Years of waiting tables had honed Fuu's skills in avoiding unwanted gropes and pinches from disorderly customers, so Fuu had no trouble sidestepping Mugen's questing hand. She spat, perhaps a slight more vicious then she intended, "Not happening, pal."

"You think you're too good for me?" he was glaring at her, not bothering to mask his anger anymore.

Unconsciously, Fuu retreated back a step. "I didn't say that," she deliberately softened her voice a little.

"You don't have to say it, Fuu," Mugen advanced on her. Fuu never would've believed that Mugen could be anymore intimidating then he normally was, but with his shirt off and muscles taut and strained as if under some great pressure, she realized that Mugen could take intimidating to a whole other plane. "You show it in every frickin' way. You act it in every-freaking-thing you do. There wasn't a single day that went by that you weren't looking down your nose at me. Admit it. You bossed me around, you judged me. Sorry if a Ryu-kuu pirate isn't up to the standards of a samurai's daughter-."

"I wasn't raised that way," Fuu was backed up against the open window and still Mugen kept coming, "My father took off early, remember?"

"How could I forget the Sunflower Guy? Especially, since I had to save your scrawny ass every other damn day while we were looking for him," Mugen had no idea how much of a blow he just struck Fuu. This had been her nightmare, her raging guilt at having doubted Mugen while tied to that cross in the ruined church. Oblivious to Fuu's pain, Mugen continued, "And the thanks I got for coming to your rescue time after time? To be ignored, to be passed over because I wasn't your precious samurai-."

"Leave Jin out of this," Fuu cut in.

In a flash, Mugen's arms darted out to either side of the windowsill, trapping Fuu and making her jump in surprise. "Your wonderful Jin?" he hissed with malicious intrigue.

"He's your friend too!"

"But you wanted to be more then friends, didn't cha?" his head lowered down to whisper cruelly in her ear, "I saw you by the lake that last night, when you threw yourself at him. What happened? Lover boy spurn ya?"

"That's not what it was," Fuu said, refusing to shiver as he blew hotly along her neck, "I just hugged him, I was going to miss him- miss both of you!"

"No hug for me?"

"What would you have done if I had hugged you?" now Fuu turned her head to growl at Mugen, her face inches from his, "You would've yelled or laughed at me and you know it! You were always calling me ugly, you were always telling me how much you hated me."

A flash of doubt crossed over Mugen's features and Fuu knew she had scored a point.

She kept going, driving her point home, "And you want to talk about 'throwing' myself at Jin? What about the time I 'threw' myself at you? We both know Sara would've killed you if it hadn't been for me." Fuu knew she was treading on thin ice here, because if Mugen and Fuu started tallying up how many times they had saved each other's life, Mugen was going to come out the obvious winner.

For a long while, Mugen was oddly quiet and if Fuu didn't know better she might have accused him of 'thinking'. He muttered, "…she just as easily could've killed you too. You couldn't be sure she wouldn't."

"Right," conceded Fuu, "it was a gamble and I took it. Lucky for both of us it paid off." Forcing a smile, she held Mugen's gaze, "You were always my friend, Mugen. I'm sorry if I didn't make that more evident to you. I never thought I was better then you. You were just dirtier, drunker, ruder, more dishonest, and more perverted." She was going to add 'stupider' to that list, but decided not to press her luck.

There was an awkward moment of silence, as Fuu stood stock-still between Mugen's braced arms. His head was still bowed, his face inches from hers. From the open window, the music of a single samisen was coming from the neighboring teahouse. A shooting star streaked across the night sky, but neither saw it. She was waiting for him to move; he was waiting to make a move.

"I don't really think you're ugly, you do have a nice ass," Mugen cleared his throat and Fuu watched him suspiciously for any sign of insincerity, "and…I never hated you."

"Excuse me sir," a small voice called from the other side of the door, "I've brought your dinner and sake."

Food? Booze?

Immediately, Mugen forgot Fuu and spun about, "About damn time! I'm frickin' starving." For Fuu's part, she was just grateful that something had interrupted the intensity of the moment. The way Mugen was looking at her, the way he was talking to her…involuntarily, Fuu shivered. Mugen was jealous of Jin, because of her.

Quickly, the door slid open and an elderly maid set the dinner tray inside their room. Her eyes were carefully trained towards the floor; after all, a maid in a brothel learns to avoid witnessing the stranger things some of the guests do. She bowed and said, "Enjoy." Then the door slid shut and she disappeared like an inconspicuous tenant on rent day.

"Grub's up," snatching the tray, Mugen contentedly sat himself cross-legged on the edge of the futon. Chopsticks began moving at light speed, while Mugen shoveled Osaka noodles and double shrimp tempera into his gaping mouth. Eventually filling the cavern in his face, Mugen drank straight from the sake bottle to wash it all down. "Ahh," he gasped for a satisfied breath, before digging in again.

For a minute or two, all Fuu could do was study him from the window. He was just like a little boy (granted, a lethal, homicidal little boy with the ability to slaughter large numbers of armed men). He was so simple, so straightforward, so uncomplicated, and yet he was such a complete mystery. Just when she thought she had him all figured out, he did something…out of character.

"You can stop staring already," Mugen said around a full mouth, "you ain't getting any of my food, so forget it."

"Umph," Fuu lied, "I didn't want any anyway. They fed us that earlier. In fact, I think you're eating our leftovers." Actually, she had watered-down soup and some chuck rice for her dinner, but at least she got to eat her fill. "Besides," sounding completely uninterested, Fuu turned back to stare out at the night sky, "I don't have time for that. I'm escaping remember? I suppose it would be too much to ask if you'd help me?"

This gave Mugen pause and for a second Fuu thought he might actually relent and help. Swallowing his food, he quirked his head at her. A few bits of rice were stuck to the stubble on his chin. "Funny," Mugen's tongue swiped along his teeth, "I don't recall you saving my life."

"What?"

"Last time I took orders from you, it was because you saved my sorry neck. That was the deal. Don't have any reason to help you now, seeing how you haven't saved my life," raising his food up again, Mugen murmured into his bowl, "or any other type of service for that matter."

"Fine," her hands set on her hips, Fuu pouted, "see if I care! I can escape just fine without you."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"Watch me," Fuu thrust her head out the window and studied her options. The small wooden panes that acted like gutters between floors should be able to hold her weight. Only problem was how thin the room was for her footing. She'd have to stand on her tiptoes to keep from falling off. That'd be one tough tightrope trick. The only purchase for her hands was the wooden pane above her and she could barely reach that. Assuming she could stand on the wooden panes, then she'd have to scoot to the corner, where the distance to the teahouse was shortest. It would still be one daredevil leap though. The buildings were pretty much even in height and she's have to clear about four feet of air. Since the teahouse wasn't any lower, Fuu would have to grab onto the tiled roof and pull the rest of her body up.

But with Mugen not helping, what choice did she have?

"I can do it," she said with magnificent resolve.

"You're gonna break your bloody neck," Mugen saluted her with his chopsticks.

"You'll see," but Fuu didn't say this as confidently as she had hoped to. Unwrapping the decorative cord that hung around her obi, Fuu used the pretty gold braid to tie back her voluminous sleeves. The luxurious drag of her kimono was another matter; the best she could manage was to tie the excess fabric in a knot around her knees. Hoisting herself on the windowsill, Fuu looked up at Mugen who was watching her and drinking from his sake bottle. "After I escape, come and find me. We still have a lot of catching up to do," with a flirtatious wink (thought she would've insisted it was a 'friendly' flirtatious wink), she swung her legs over the sill, but paused to add over her shoulder, "And I'm sure if you act like you passed out or I hit you on the head or something, they'd refund your five ryo. Just don't sound the alarm until daybreak."

Mugen flashed Fuu a fanged smile, "What if I turn ya in now?"

She called his bluff, "Go ahead…snitch."

"Who you calling a snitch?" instantly, Mugen was absolutely indignant. Jeez, Mugen was so predictable! No bad boy could tolerate being called a snitch; it was the worst of all insults (and knowing Mugen's foul mouth, that was really saying something). Honor amongst thieves and all that. Now he would be sure to keep his trap shut and let Fuu go about escaping.

"See you around," Fuu said as a final farewell, before carefully hanging her waist and legs out the windowsill. Her toes stretched as they searched for the tiny wooden pane that would have to support her. The splintery wood felt secure under her foot and she gingerly lowered herself to test her weight on the flimsy structure. It seemed sturdy and sound. Giving a heartfelt sigh of relief, Fuu cautiously let one hand go of the windowsill and reached on her very tiptoes to grab the pane above her. She could barely reach it, but reach it she did and that's what counted. With her all her courage, Fuu took the last hand from the window and flung it at the higher pane. As she switched her balance from her arms to her toes, she felt the stomach-turning premonition of falling, but she held fast and the dizziness stopped.

Okay, so far so good. She wasn't dead yet. The fact that if she gave up now Mugen would laugh at her and say, "Told you so," made Fuu that much braver. Failure was not an option! With Mugen's condescending attitude to inspire her, Fuu began gradually inching along the wooden pane. She would cautiously scoot her right hand, then her right foot, followed by her left hand and left foot. The going was slow, but at least it was safe.

Somewhat interested, Mugen watched Fuu from the futon, leaning against the wall, bottle of sake in one hand, and the other hand idly itched his crotch. He stared until she disappeared from the window's sight, yet he could still hear her scuttle along on the other side of the wall. 'There goes my five ryo,' he bitterly glared at his sake. Even after he had admitted she wasn't ugly and that he didn't actually hate her, she had left. What a waste of sentimentality! Still, she had invited him to find her so they could 'catch up', but even Mugen couldn't hold any illusions to what Fuu meant when she said 'catch up'. She meant 'talking', but he'd wanted 'screwing'.

'Whatever,' Mugen's hand was in his pocket, retrieving his Backwards Beauty, 'Who needs that brat, when I got this? Sure, a piece of ass would've been sweet, but I can still get off without her-.' Something that had been bugging Mugen finally made itself evident, while he was setting down his sake bottle and started unfastening the top of his shorts.

"Oi," Mugen said aloud, glaring hatefully at his dinner tray, "that bitch didn't give me my change. This sucks! She jipped me like thirty mon!" Sure, the grub was tasty and the booze had a kick, but no fucking way it was worth an entire ryo. He was up and storming towards the door to give that whore with the huge knockers hell for trying to cheat him, when he heard it.

Snap!… Which was all he heard.

"Huh?" absently scratching his head, Mugen listened for any other sounds. Now he probably would've been worried or even panicked if he had heard a descending scream or the thwack of a body hitting the ground, but the snap of a pane breaking was the only noise, then silence. Until-

"…M-Mugen?" Fuu's usually braying voice sounded small and uncertain.

"What?" the annoyance in Mugen's voice easily covered up the relief.

"Um, I've decided not to escape tonight."

"Well la-dee-da," sarcasm was good at covering relief too.

"Could you maybe," she spoke in shaky, hasty words, "help me back inside? Please?"

Securing his ukiyo-e print back into his pocket, Mugen swayed up to the window as nonchalantly as he could manage. He stuck his head outside and peered about for Fuu. She was about six feet out, hanging onto the splintering remains of the wooden pane that should've been under her feet. The poor girl was ashen-faced and trembling. "It broke," she whispered.

"Like I couldn't have figured that one out," rolling his eyes, Mugen hoisted himself on the windowsill and because he just couldn't help it, added, "I told you so."

"Mugen," Fuu snipped, "My arms are getting tired."

"I'm coming, I'm coming, stupid bimbo," his feet were already on the wooden pane and his hands leapt to the top one a lot faster then Fuu had been. He scooted his way towards her as if he was only four inches from the ground, not four neck-breaking stories. To compensate for the flimsy wood under his feet, Mugen hung the majority of his weight from his arms (which Fuu hadn't the upper body strength to do). This way he was reasonably sure that it wouldn't crack.

The wood gave an ominous creak.

"Mugen!" Fuu cried as the wooden pane started to bend.

"Stop bitching," like a monkey, Mugen lifted his feet and used his arm-span to close the distance between himself and Fuu, not putting any weight on the splintering pane. Even in her fear and desperation, Fuu couldn't help being impressed with Mugen's physical ability. The wooden outcropping he was swinging from couldn't have allowed more then a few inches of purchase. Mugen was basically keeping his whole body up and moving with the strength of his fingers alone. She watched him with fierce adoration until he was directly above her. Taking a deep breath, Mugen released one hand and reached out to her. "Give me your hand, Fuu," he grumbled under his physical exertion. When Fuu hesitated, reluctant to test her strength on only one tired arm, Mugen smirked down at her, "Have some faith in me, will ya?"

Of all the things for him to say…

From somewhere impassioned and repressed in her, Fuu rallied the strength to pull herself up just a few vital inches while outstretching her hand. It didn't look like she could possibly reach, it appeared as if a fraction of an inch kept them apart, but suddenly, Fuu felt the vice-like grasp of Mugen's fingers around her wrist. He was incredibly strong and she bit her lip, knowing she'd have bruises on her arm tomorrow. Next thing she knew, she was being hoisted up like a rag doll.

"Hang on to me," he grunted, sweat breaking out over his skin, "I need both hands."

Fuu didn't need to be told twice! Wrapping her arms around Mugen's neck and shoulders, she desperately clung to him. Unfortunately, she caught a terrifying view of her feet and his feet dangling four stories above the cobblestones. Squeaking, she tucked her face into his neck with her eyes clenched shut and didn't mind that every time he'd swing them closer to the window, his arm would bump her head. Beneath her, Fuu felt every flex and strain of Mugen's muscled body. His perspiration was sticking to her kimono and she found herself oddly appreciative that he was still bare-chested. The sharp jut of his boney structure poked her.

For Mugen's part, he kept his mind on the job at hand. Even though Fuu's cool breath against his slick neck did feel really good…

"Okay, you first. On three," having arrived at the window, Mugen dropped an arm again and wrapped it around Fuu's waist, "One, two, three!" Fuu grabbed the windowsill and heaved herself over with all her might while Mugen helped lift her. But she was so overexerted and tired, that she made it about halfway before she caught on the sill. "Klutz," unceremoniously, Mugen shoved her butt as hard as he could the rest of the way through and Fuu fell haphazardly to the solid floor. With ease that Fuu was now understandably jealous of, Mugen leapt through the window.

His arms a little numb, Mugen started rolling his shoulders while leaning against the wall and panting slightly. Even he was impressed with himself! At his feet, Fuu was still sprawled out on the floor. The hem of her kimono had untied itself in the commotion and it gracefully puddled around her. She wasn't recovering so easily. When the wooden pane had broken, there had been one horrific second when she was completely air born. It was sheer luck that she was able to clutch onto the broken pane or else she surely would've fallen the four stories to the cobblestones. And if Mugen hadn't been there…she shivered, not wanting to imagine how long she would've held on until exhaustion overcame her. It was also unsettling to her that her primary emotion while hanging perilously above unforgiving cobblestones was not fear or panic (though Fuu had still felt those emotions in abundance), the main feeling had been one of unspeakable regret.

"Thanks Mugen," she whispered to the floor.

"Whatever," and suddenly, there was Mugen's hand in Fuu's face, offering to help her to her feet.

She took it and was helped up by the last man on earth Fuu would've counted on for a hand up. Yet she could always count on him to rescue her. He'd proved that time and time again. For some bittersweet reason, she couldn't bear to look him in the eye and see that 'told you so' smirk. Keeping her gaze lowered, Fuu realized that might be worse, because she now was 'face to face' with Mugen's lean chest and stomach. Her stare was immediately drawn (almost out of habit) to the bullet wound that she had so meticulously treated herself.

Actually, by the end of their journey, Fuu had become quite the nurse and her bodyguards' primary source of healthcare. It was unavoidable really. How could she not have learned a thing or two about dressing wounds when those two were always getting sliced up (and in Mugen's case, blown up)? Along the way, she had picked up several local remedies for dressing cuts and holes. She even became an expert stitcher, though anytime she approached Jin and Mugen with a needle and thread in hand they always paled and inched slowly away. She knew when to pack a wound, when to clean it, how to bandage it, how to sew it with the right stitching, and when she could let the guys handle it for themselves. Consequently, she didn't think twice about reaching out her hand and touching the bullet wound that had caused her so much worry. She had actually become very comfortable with Mugen and Jin's bodies; she had treated them so many times that she didn't give touching them a second thought. At the time, neither of the guys had ever been shot before and she wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. "Did it hurt?" she asked him.

"Like a bitch," Mugen glanced down at his battle scars, a dozen or so crisscrossing patterns that testified to his life as a Ryu-kuuian. "See?" he pointed to several newer marks and said thoughtfully, "You can tell the difference between the scars I treated and the scars you treated. Yours always come in smaller and more…fleshy, I guess." It was true, the scythe gashes, Sara's slashes, and even the shrapnel wounds he'd received when the ship exploded were all painstakingly tended to. She was happy that her 'scars' were pinker then his other ghostly white ones. She was proud that her stitches had been so small that there was no needlepoint marks to show they had even been there in the first place. And most of all, she was just glad that she could help them in her small way.

Self-consciously, Mugen itched one of his scythe scars. Fuu had the weirdest look on her face and far be it for Mugen to feel uncomfortable, but she was making him nervous.

Abruptly, she took one of his hands in her own, the left one that had been scratching his side. She tenderly spread his fingers and examined his palm. If Mugen hadn't known better, it might've appeared as if Fuu intended to read his fortune, but he knew all too well what she was staring at. Her fingertips traced the three oval marks that had pierced completely through his hand. For hours, she would wrap and re-wrap this injury, worried that if she didn't get it just right that Mugen would lose the use of some of his fingers.

These scars were for her, acquired while he was on route to rescue her. Only then did she dare to look him in the eye, or rather the cheek. Her brow scrunched in concern while studying the three scratches on his face. Of all the wounds and gunshots and slashes, this one had frightened her the most. It wasn't like it was the most serious of his injuries, far from it; in fact, it was a rather superficial wound. Yet, it was the only treatable injury Mugen had ever sustained on his face while in the care of Fuu. She was anxious and driven to reduce the size of the scars that would mar his cheek. Not like his face was completely unscarred in the first place, there was the small knick over his right eyebrow. Fuu had often found herself wondering about that particular scratch, shivering while she tried to imagine who could be that skilled as to almost cut out Mugen's right eye.

Barely realizing what she was doing until she did it, Fuu reached out to Mugen's cheek and gently caressed those three scars. She'd succeeded in her treatment, no doubt about that. While the marks were still evident, they weren't prominent, hiding in the copper of his skin almost as if they belonged there. Still, she remembered that day so vividly no amount of faded scars could ever make it disappear. She could still see him:

Thick, wild hair was wet and sticking to his copper face. The blood from the scratches on his cheek trickled down his neck and stained his white shirt as water dripped from his long limbs. His punctured hand was raining droplets of blood that spattered the ruined floor of the church. He had never looked so tired to her; tired, bloody, and wet, but never defeated. Behind him, the ethereal blue of the water and sky shadowed his silhouette. His eyes traveled over her all too briefly, assessing her bruised face and bloody mouth and though there was no other clue in his appearance to show his feelings, his eyes flashed with rage. He had come for her.

Fuu smiled at Mugen.

Thus far Mugen had amazed himself with his self-control (in Mugen's opinion, self-control was something that happened to other people), but when Fuu smiled at him, that wonderfully bittersweet smile, Mugen felt a thrilling heat course through his body. He had her! He grabbed the hand that was so innocently petting his face and feverishly kissed her palm.

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…even I'm pissed I left it right there. That's just wrong!

Anyway, hope the 'Fugen' banter was realistic and thank you, thank you, thank you all for reviewing!

Next Chapter: That Voice