Bittersweet Lust
Chapter 3: The Games We Play
By: Death
Disclaimer: See First Chapter.
Reviews = Crack for Writers
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It was a plain, small hut, hidden smartly in the woods behind a mass of thorned bushes and thicket. While it was little more than four walls, Fuu felt a her heart panged with minor appreciation, though the corners of her mouth dipped with displeasure. She noticed the thick, rice paper windows and the sturdy, resilient roof; they wouldn't leak. She sighed, resolved. Despite is bland exterior, it looked to be somewhat cozy; besides, they hadn't much of a choice anyway. Mugen grunted to her right, looking down at her, and smirked at the look of distaste on her face,
"Home is where the heart is, Fuu."
She crossed her arms, ignoring him and starting up the hill, hiking through the brush. She entered the safe house without so much as a glance back in his direction.
Once inside, Fuu slipped out of her zori sandals and looked around, frowning. The hut was no more than two rooms large, separated right down the center by a thin wall. She pushed passed the beaded door and into the second room, smiling at what she found; a large, purple tinted window shed glorious light over the floor and she immediately claimed the quarters as her own. Tossing down her bag of things, she knelt in a prayer of thanks, trying to sedate the tugs of guilt that chided her for judging the place so harshly before.
Mugen slid the door closed behind him, kicking off his geta and flinging his baggage across the floor. Wind breezed through the only window in the room, tussling his hair and whispering against the walls. The hanging beads of a door clambered against each other and he shoved past them, almost tripping over Fuu as she blocked the entryway.
"Sonavabitch," He growled, catching his balance and glowering down at her. She blinked up at him innocently, but the smug glimmer in her eyes betrayed her. His gaze fell to her bag, which she was currently unloading and he smirked,
"Who said you get first-dibs?"
Fuu frowned, "Like you even care where you sleep."
He grunted and shrugged, "That ain't the point."
"Isn't the point."
He scowled and turned around, storming past the beads. He hated it when she did that. It made him feel interferer, and she knew it, "Whatever."
Fuu grinned; Fuu: 1, Mugen: 0.
Fuu tended to the fire, stuffing another piece of wood into the crackling flames. They devoured it hungrily, rising towards the night sky, and she glanced up, wiping her brow on her sleeve as Mugen climbed up the hill. He was bare-chested, the loose ends of his white shirt clutched in his hand as water dripped from the make-shift sack.
"Get anything?" Her question was rhetorical and she stood as he laid the shirt on the grass beside her, pulling it open to reveal four fat, wriggling trout. Fuu made a face; Bulging eyes, slimy, nasty. Ugh...she hated fish. Sure, she ate them...but by then, they were always dead.
"You didn't kill them yet?"
"Yes, Fuu, I did. Can't-cha tell?"
She scowled at his sarcasm, "Why not?"
He looked up at her, irritated, "I was too busy trying keepin' them from slippin' back into the damn lake. And 'sides," he grinned, eyes dark, "You're the cook. Figured I'd let you do it."
She paled, watching as one flopped onto the other, its mouth gaping. She pressed her fingers to her lips, bile rising in her throat at the thought of touching one, "No, no...you go ahead."
Mugen chuckled and raised a foot, the steel of his geta hovering over one's head, "Aw, come on, Fuu. It's easy..." Without warning, he slammed his heal against the fragile skull and Fuu almost heaved at the crack. Mugen ground his foot from side to side, pressing the head down into the ground and forcing the tail-fin to rise. And Fuu was gone, scrambling back around behind the house. The sound of retching scratched against his ears and Mugen grinned, wiping his geta clean on the grass.
'Heh. Ain't payback a bitch.'
He snorted; Fuu: 1, Mugen: 1.
Fuu glared at the ceiling, sweat soaked and more than uncomfortable. The air wavered with the heat, harsh sunlight burning in through the window. How could it be this hot this early in the morning? Her kimono lay open and bunched up around her hips, the arms rolled to her shoulders, collar pulled apart to reveal a hint of cotton bandages and stomach as her obi lay wrinkled on the far side of the room. Perspiration dewed within her cleavage and she groaned, standing. The air was grotesquely still around her face and she grimaced, trotting over to the sash and snatching it up unhappily. She tied it around her waist and her frown deepened at the new, stifling embrace.
She gathered her hair up in a stiff bun behind her head, jabbing her hair sticks into it to hold it in place. The insides of her thighs were clammy with sweat and she tied her kimono in a ball at the knees, mentally grumbling about not bringing her yukata* along, and stepped past the beaded door, into the next room.
Mugen was gone and Fuu's eyes fell to his belongings. An old (and probably used) pair of cut-off-hakama laid gracelessly upon a thin, white shirt and Fuu grinned with sacrilege ideas.
Screw principles, she thought bitterly, gathered the clothes in her arms, it's too hot for kimono.
He clambered back into the hut around noon, sopping wet from his swim in the lake. He hated the heat. Bad. Mugen shrugged his red gi off and discarded it, tucking his fingers under his white shirt. He struggled to remove it, hissing as it caught on one of his blue-jade earrings. Finally yanking his head free, the shirt joined his gi on the floor with a wet plop. He sighed, leaning back against the wall in the shade, hiding from the sunlight that repulsively streamed through his window.
His soggy shorts drooped low on him, hugging just beneath the high, protruding bones of his hips. He rolled his head from side to side, flashing a content smile as his neck cracked all the way down to his shoulder blades. Sweet, humid air fluttered against his nose and he turned questioning eyes to Fuu's door, suddenly realizing how quiet it was. He grunted, smirking; maybe she died of heatstroke.
His geta clacked against the floor as he crossed and he pushed the beads aside, bending his head into the room with a smirk,
"You still alive...?"
But his smile fell when his jaw dropped, and he stared incredulously down at the girl laying on the floor. Fuu was staring up at the ceiling, hair cascading across the floor, her butt pressed up against the far wall with her legs straight up, heals resting against the wood.
His white shirt clung to her loosely, bunched up around the underside of her ribs, exposing the pale flesh of her flat stomach. His shorts bunched equally as high on her thighs, and his eyes scanned the cream color of her legs. Mugen swallowed, unsure of how to react. A woman in men's clothes. She sighed loudly, muttering,
"...and kicking."
She reached up and scratched her head, and the trance was broken; Mugen shook his head, frowning,
"Those are mine."
Fuu sighed again, "Yeah, I know. And to tell you the truth," she shuffled some, stretching her arms above her head, "They really aren't that much cooler than my kimono," she tucked her hands under her head, weaving her fingers together, "But they'restillcooler, I suppose."
Mugen smirked, "They ain't clean."
Fuu's nose wrinkled, and she sniffed, "Oh, believe me, I know."
Unfazed by the insult, Mugen's smirk grew, "I don't wear underwear."
But instead of her paling in disgust like he had inticipated, Fuu snorted, mumbling, "Yeah, I know that too."
There was a sigh. "Let's play a game."
"No."
"Mugen."
"What?"
"Come on."
The dark air was casual between them as they lay outside, stars twinkling mischievously above them. It had cooled off some with the sunset, but not enough to really matter. Oh well. At least it was cooler.
"Games are for kids."
"Yeah, so what?"
"Feh. Whatever."
"Alright. I'll ask you a question, you answer honestly, and vise versa."
"Honestly?"
"Yes. Honestly."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Mugen!"
"Fine. Honestly. Got it."
He chewed on a weed-stem, bored, staring up at the sky; the stars had long ago lost their beauty for him; he'd seen to much ugly against them. Fuu sighed, scratching her arm; he glanced over at her, still a little perplexed at the sight of her in shorts. Her eyes suddenly brightened,
"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"
"Shit," Mugen chuckled, "lots."
Fuu rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand, "Come one, there has to be something in particular."
He thought about it for a minute, before tugging the weed from his mouth and sighing, "Fuck, I don't know, Fuu," he turned to look at her, eyes flickering with something she couldn't place, "You know me."
She nodded, laying back down, "Yeah," she smiled faintly at him, her voice soft, "I know you."
It was silent for a moment, before he turned to face her, mocking her previous position, "What about you?"
She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, "No fair. You can't repeat questions."
Mugen grinned, "Who says?"
She rolled her eyes, but obliged, "Teaming up with Jin and you." she smiled, turning her head and looking at him pointedly, "Especially you."
His grin widened.
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"Who taught you how to fight?"
He shrugged one shoulder, scratching his chin, "Me, I guess."
"How so?"
He grunted, glancing at her. And she noticed the darkness in his gaze; his voice was gruff, "...It's always been survival of the fittest."
Fuu nodded, "I see."
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"What'd you all do when you found that Sunflower-Dude?"
Fuu stared at him for a long moment, curling a lock of her long hair around a finger. Crickets sang, owls swooned and the wind hummed; she looked away,
"Well...nothing really."
"No, shit," Mugen snorted from his position in the grass, "I figured as much."
Fuu sighed, looking up at the sky, "But I wanted to hurt him."
He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with her, there was a wild spark of unrest that shot from her and into him, and his nerves buzzed.
"I wanted to hurt him for leaving. I wanted to make him pay for everything mother had to endure because of him," her voice was soft and her gaze fell to the ground, "Everything I had to endure because of him." Her face was suddenly passive, and she smiled sadly, resigned, "But, when I got there. It didn't even matter...because," she chuckled lightly, but he could hear its bitter undertone, "he was already in pain. He was already suffering," her jaw set, eyes narrowed, "And I remember thinking, 'It's not fair!' And it wasn't."
Mugen caught the edge of tears in her voice and looked away; he'd never liked to see her cry.
"But," Fuu continued, sniffling, "I know now he hadn't wanted to leave. He left to protect us. So, I forgave him."
She smiled, sparing him a warm glance, and the tense air lightened, "Did you know your parents?"
Mugen shook his head, "Nope."
"Does that bother you?"
He grinned, "Nu'uh, Fuu. You only get one question."
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"Why did you come for me?"
Mugen snorted, "Which time?"
"That last day...when you got shot."
Silence. Fuu turned and watched his face; a shadow flickered over it and she decided not to press.
"Alright, nevermin-"
"-Because, it was my fault they took you."
She blinked at him, waiting. He sighed, ruffling his fingers through his hair, "And 'cause you're my friend, aight?"
Fuu nodded and looked away, smiling.
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"Who do yah like better? Me or Four-eyes?"
Fuu started at the question, having started to doze in the quiet.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Jin."
Mugen grunted, and she smiled, "At first...but..."
She faltered and he sat up, bending his knees. He glanced down at her and she met his eyes, sitting up along side him,
"But then...," her voice was quiet, and she gazed down at the lake below, "...you came for me."
"That last day?"
"No. You always came for me. You."
"Hn." 'Didn't think you noticed.'
His face betrayed his thoughts and she adverted her gaze, whispering, "You were wrong."
Time pressed on and after awhile, Fuu heard Mugen's ragged breathing fade into a slow, steady rhythm.
"Mugen?"
He didn't answer and she sighed, snuggling into the grass. It was hot, but she could sleep. The crickets had long since died, their irksome tune replaced with the subtle, soft chirping of birds. The sun would be coming up soon; and she groaned, because sun meant heat, and heat meant another day of sweating.
Yutaka* - a summer Kimono.
Updated! 1/29/2010.