Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo. No financial gain is made from this. This is for entertainment purposes only.

I remember it perfectly, like a picture engrained in the deepest of my being, of my soul, as a reminder, a punishment. The contorted expression in the face I had learned to love and that now I despise. The speed at which the blood tampered with his perfect fitting suit, its color darkened by the dim light in the room, only bathed by the silver glimmer of the moon. The soft whisper that escaped between his lips when he drew his last breath, the coldness it drove into my chest, the trembling of my hands...

"Why did you kill him? You said you loved him."

"Yes, I guess I should start this story by the beginning."

We had arrived at Bencoolen barely a month ago after a long trip that had almost taken Sophia from us.

"Who is Sophia?"

"She is Lawrence's daughter from his previous marriage. His wife had died from typhoid fever. She was thirteen or fourteen when we moved to the East."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding.

So we arrived in a rainy day in this inhospitable land. Of course, Lawrence was by then well-travelled, but for me it was as scary as it was exciting to step in these savage places. Deep down, I now think part of me felt enamored of Lawrence because he was my gateway to this, to the thrill of the adventure of discovering new lands. Although I may be reading too much into it. I guess at that time I had not the confidence that I found later, the one needed to survive in this cruel world. But somehow I cannot remember now the fear I am sure I felt, an innocent sixteen year old unaware of the real dangers around her.

"What is that place?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is that an island?"

"Oh, it is not Japan. Don't get ahead of the story, please."

The natives did not even have a name for their country, but the city we named it Bencoolen, a small village part of the South Sumatera Province. We arrived as part of the East Indian Company convoy to this village of little trading interest, acting more like a garrison in the commercial war with the Dutch.

"A vast sea separates it from here," I explained, "but if sometime we get a charting map I can show you where it is."

Lawrence took soon on his functions as Governor and we moved to the house that came with the position. It did not hold the luxury of other manors, but it was better off than the buildings around us. I started to take in the customs of the locals, their colorful and flimsy dresses - they called them sarongs -, the foreign taste of their food, their complicated language... Our life was perfect, I was ecstatic. It was as if a veil I had carried was lifted and now the world around me was brighter and becoming. It was all a dream until that nightmarish night.

Lawrence had been out. It was not unusual. He had important duties as Governor and sometimes he would meet with other important men until late. I had grown used to it, so I just went to sleep to an empty bed. He would join in at some point during the night, his warm embrace reassuring me that he had come back safe. But what woke me up that dreadful night, were muffled screams and frantic footsteps. A knot settled in my throat and cut my respiration. What could I do? I was only a scared sixteen year old girl. Did the service house have not heard the intruder? I left the room without taking the gun that I knew my husband kept in his desk's first drawer, but as you will understand, logic avoided me that night.

I followed the horrific sounds, realizing with terror that they were coming from Sophia's room.

I saw my conversational partner's tighten his grip in his katana and I almost smiled.

I opened the door without a second thought. How I wish I would have just found the band of bandits I expected! I would have gladly accepted my death instead of what I saw. Thankfully my mind has discarded this image for I feel like vomiting just at its evocation.

"What it was?" he pressured me.

"My love, my husband, the only person I had left in this forsaken land, was atop his own daughter, his flesh, his hand over her mouth..." This time it was me that tightened my fists until the nails drew blood from my palms.

"I understand," he said in a deep tone. I sighed.

My feet carried me back to our room. I don't know why. I think I was barefoot. Yes, I am pretty sure... Not that it matters. He ran after me, probably his second biggest mistake that night. My hands did not tremble anymore, I think, when I reached for his pistol in the drawer. Papers flew out with it. He shouted 'I can explain you. Listen-' but he never did as the gun went off, sending his poor excuses with him to the grave.

The loud bang of the shot must have woken the servant house and the first sounds of steps in the manor sent me into motion. Tears clouded my vision as I gathered random items with no clear objective. In my numbness I think I understood it had been a fatal shot to us both. The door to our room opened - for a second I wondered who had closed it in the first place. It was one of the natives working in the service of the house, but I barely glimpsed his or her face. I shot him too.

"Why?"

"I don't know... I was not myself anymore. Any rationale in me was gone and I just acted out in instinct. I know it makes no sense-"

"It does," he interrupted me. I smiled sadly. "Continue."

I took that poor soul with me in my frenzied escape. It downed on me that other servants were in the house, looking for the tumultuous incident, for the bandit or murderer. I knew too then that if they found me I would be judged as one. And for some reason, despite having all lost, I did not want to die.

"I don't want to die," I corrected myself.

I knew little about how this world works - that, I would find out the hard way later, - but I knew as long as I stayed in Bencoolen I would be in danger. How naive of me to think that a woman alone would be safe anywhere else. I donned some of his clothes. They were warmer in the humid night and sweat dampened my skin, but the dark colors allowed me to blend in easier and move faster than any of my dresses. I also kept the gun in my hand, filled my pockets with gold and bullets. The screams in the house reached my ears as I jumped out of the windowed balcony. I had never been very sportive and my shoulder soared in pain as it touched the ground. I ran in the darkness, seeing the events unfold as nothing more than a spectator. I saw the order forces heading towards the manor, some of the members of my house service shouting at them, encouraging their violence. I kept on running towards the port.

The harbor stunk of alcohol and sin, such a different life from the one I was leaving behind. Word also was amongst it of the murder of the Governor. Gossip ran faster than me, it seemed. It also helped me to sneak inside a ship, added that my petite size was an advantage. Thus I became a stowaway in a random vessel. It was not until later that I would discover the magnificence of the artwork that the 'Clover' was. A mass of black wood in which I surged the seas for a month.

"Had I chosen another vessel, we would not be having this conversation. But I had little idea where this ship was taking me. Had I known, I would have probably changed route," I added.

I saw many men die aboard the'Clover'. Diseased they would wander until they finally fell to Death's grip. I even helped sometimes throw the bodies out to the hungry sea. Nobody wondered much about my presence in the 'Clover'. After a sleepless night bundled in the stores, the vessel was brought to life by the twenty-something men working around its empty core and we sailed.