A/N: Okay, so, I'm sitting here, writing, watching La Femme Nikita (a USA network series broadcast in the late 90's-early 00's, with all it's delicious forbidden love and danger plots), and I'm remembering just why I love Samurai Champloo. Love and fighting and war, all entwined makes things so much fun, don'cha know?

I'm also eating cookies.

FYI.

Chapter Twelve: Wind is Blowing Stars

All the colors spin, all the colors spin
Blackness from a pitcher pours
Stars come blowing through the door
Your eyes they mirror pools of ink
Your heart and mind combine to drink
From the puzzle's trough
But the troubles can be solved

The dawn came quietly, without any sounding horns or singsong alarm bells. Fuu lay on her side and watched as the yellow light crept across her paper-thin walls. She could hear the people outside her room move about. Kiyoko woke up with a small screech, all worries of the day before forgotten briefly as the clamor of rice cakes came across her. Fuu's daughter adored rice cakes for breakfast, especially with the rare spice cinnamon sprinkled on them. It took two week's pay to buy the small container of the spice, and Fuu rarely used any herself, preferring to save it for her daughter.

Her daughter, who even now most likely bore a bruise on her cheek. A mark of her mother's affection if you will. Fuu turned over onto her back, fingering the small, near invisible scars that marred her hands. Tokens of love from Kiki's father, or rather the knife at his waist that he couldn't be bothered to remove as he raped her.

Sitting up, the mask so gently lay upon her fell to the floor and shattered. She knew how it felt. Standing carefully, Fuu sidestepped the mask and walked to the window. Outside, the town could be seen waking, a few people already out and about, specifically the fisherman and the storeowners. On any other day, she'd be down there, preparing for the opening of her restaurant. Today, she had neither the will nor energy to do so.

At her doorway, Lee stood and watched as Fuu watched the outside world go by. She had a look of pure isolation on her face. Thoughts he couldn't even imagine must be racing through her mind. Pushing away and into the room, Lee slowly laid his hand on her shoulder. She didn't jump, almost as if she were expecting him to do such a thing.

"You have big hands," she said unexpectedly, turning to stare at him with fathomless eyes.

"I'm a big man."

"You are. I'm always surrounding myself with men who are bigger than me. Taller, stronger; generally bigger. Is it any wonder what happens to a girl who does that?"

Lee shook his head, his dark hair slipping from the top-knot and dangling in front of his eyes. "Don't go there, Fuu."

"Why not? If I tell Mugen and Jin what they want to know, it's what they'll think. Is it any wonder?" She said sardonically, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold, turning back to the sight of the town.

"They won't."

"They will," she said forcefully. "It's my fault, what happened. I left them behind because I was so afraid to let them go. I didn't think of what I might mean to them. Of what would happen to me or to them beyond that point. I wanted only to meet my father."

Lee nodded. "Was it worth it?"

Fuu watched as her daughter ran out the front door, followed quickly by a running Mugen. They chased each other around in circles before Mugen's longer legs finally overcame the child's faster ones. He threw her high in the air and when she came back down she was squealing with glee, her diminutive features lit up with pleasure. Lee brought her attention back to the room with a small prod on her arm.

"Was it worth it?"

Fuu smiled bitterly. "No."

"What about her?" Lee asked, nodding his head at Kiyoko.

"She's all of me. All that was left. I don't think I even survived that journey."

"Something survived," Lee observed, turning to leave the room.

Fuu nodded slowly, and whispered so he wouldn't hear, "Yeah, the anger."

Lee walked out of the room and out the front door, taking possession of Kiki as he did so. Mugen watched as the two walked on down to the village, and wondered what was taking Fuu so long to get up.

"Hey, pokey! Get your ass up! You're gonna open up late as it is! How am I supposed to mooch off someone who ain't got money?" Mugen continued as he walked to her doorway. He froze at the sight of her staring listlessly out the window. "What's wrong?"

Fuu turned to look at her, her eyes large and luminous within her wane face. "Everything."

Mugen had never seen her looking so distraught. Not even when he and Jin almost died. Not even the many times he and Jin had almost died. Mugen stood there for a few seconds, a strange itching in his palms. He studied the sensation, and realized with some discomfort that the itch was from the urge to comfort. For the first time in his entire pitiful selfish existence, he felt the urge to comfort another being, and not sexually.

He stuttered out an offer of help. "Can I...uh...do anything?"

Fuu nodded slowly. "I need you to leave."

He stared at her blindly confused. "What?"

She spoke slowly. "I need you to leave."

"Why?"

"Because with you here, I can't forget. I can't ignore the past. I want to ignore my past, Mugen. If I don't, I hurt those around me."

Mugen didn't even pretend to understand. However, he did connect a few dots in his head. "What happened to Kiki's face, Fuu?"

She smiled bitterly and gingerly took a seat on the edge of her bed. "I remembered things from my past and I couldn't handle it."

Anger colored his voice. "So you hit your daughter?"

"No. I hit him, Mugen. I hit him because when I saw her, I saw him."

Another dot connected. "The father."

Fuu laughed, again, so bitter, and so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her. "Yes. The father."

"Who is he, Fuu?"

She looked him into the eyes, all amusement gone. "It all comes back to Daddy, Mugen. You and I met because I wanted to find my father. I found him, only to be disappointed. And here you are, on your own quest to salvage my honor and find Kiki's father, but you're not going to be disappointed, Mugen." She stood and poked him in the chest with a long pointy finger. "You're going to be devastated."

She went to move past him, but his long arms wrapped around her, forcing her to face him. "Stop playing games, Fuu. Tell me."

She smiled in his face, and it wasn't the nice girl he'd once known. He was now facing the wrathful woman.

"You know, Mu', in a way, you're the father." He stepped back, shocked, releasing her from his grip. She continued to smile at him, and followed him as he continued to back away. "See, it's all your fault. Kiki wouldn't be here without your participation in my life."

"How is it my fault?" He demanded, no longer retreating. "I damn sure never fucked you, Fuu, cause I'm sure I'd have remembered that."

His coarse language threw her for a minute, but she came right back blazing.

"Oh, yeah, Mugen, though I'm sure many ladies would prefer to forget being with you."

Mugen grinned evilly in her face. "Kept track, didn' ya?"

She spit in that face. "I didn't need to."

He stepped closer. "You wanted to."

She didn't allow that nearness to affect her, or so she told herself. "I never even thought about it."

He stepped closer again, emotions warring in those dark eyes. "Oh, you thought about it. Hell, I bet you dreamed about it."

"Ha! Those are called nightmares."

Only inches remained between them; scant, tension-filled inches. Then, unable to stand it any longer, they kissed. She could barely reach him standing on her tiptoes, a problem easily rectified when he wrapped his arms around her hips and drew her up. Her legs went around his waist as he pressed them against the doorframe (the walls, remember, are paper-thin and easily shredded).

Hunger, so long repressed, flared between them, and the kiss was as volatile as the argument had been. Truthfully, the kiss was an extension of the argument, both sides trying to prove a point, though what the point was had been lost amidst the rapid-fire insults.

His hair was softer than it looked. Fuu's few thoughts were of the sensory details, her anger and fiery temper dissipating in the face of unrelenting pain. His hair was soft, his chin covered in painful stubble, and he kept his eyes open, watching her as he mauled her mouth with his thin lips. Somehow, she didn't mind the lack of softness in him; only found the rare gift of it within his features a boon.

Mugen found that he wanted to memorize every detail, even as the memories of past kisses showed him that he always had his eyes closed during a kiss, whether wanting to imagine someone else or not wanting to see who it was he was with. Somewhere in his sub-conscious, he admitted that he closed his eyes because Fuu's image was burned in his brain, and imagination was better than nothing at all. Her tongue was small and fast, matching his pace readily.

Slowly, they stopped kissing; stopped touching as they broke contact and stared at each other on opposite sides of the hall. Mugen's eyes were unreadably dark as the day grew brighter outside.

"You want me to leave?"

Fuu nodded, turning her head so that she didn't have to look at him.

"I'll go," Mugen said quietly, reaching out with those so long arms to turn her face to his, "but you have to tell me. I won't go if you don't."

Fuu nodded again, sliding slowly to the floor. "Kiyoko's father is a man named Umanosuke."

Mugen quirked an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to know that name?"

"I'll help you. He had only one eye and he held me captive as bait to lure you to an island and kill you," Fuu said sardonically, staring Mugen down as he stared incredulously.

The truth was slow to dawn on Mugen. When it did, he too sank to the floor, though he was on his knees. Fuu didn't look at him in that moment, but she could hear his soft whispers in the silence.

"It's my fault. My fault. My fault. It's my fault."