Chapter 5

Morning came too early for the bruised and exhausted girl. Fuu barely could open her eyes and they felt gritty and sore. Before she even attempted to move or stretch, she turned her head slightly to check on the guys. Neither Mugen nor Jin had moved voluntarily since they clashed swords on the beach two days before. It worried her a bit. She had seen how they recovered from their separate clashes with Sara and both had been awake within two days.

Still, this damage was much worse, and both men had bled considerably more before Fuu could stop and tend them. She had no idea quite how much blood a grown man could lose before dying, but she had seen how much it took to kill a boy from their gang. Thankfully, neither man's bandages indicated any additional bleeding. Not only that, but both now had a tiny bit more color in their faces. Lips were no longer a sickly, cold, bluish color. She said a tiny prayer of thanks for their healing, and prayed again for guidance and strength.

She gently prodded at her own injuries and found that her ribs were still sore, but her stomach was feeling a bit better. The bruising would not fade for several days, even weeks. She knew her body healed slower than most. It was something she had inherited from her Mom. Cuts took longer to vanish, and bruises seemed to stay ugly purple masses forever. Still, considering the abuse she had endured, some discoloration was acceptable. At least she was still alive. And she had these two men to thank; so many times over.

Over by the door of the shed, she heard scuffling and realized that the old man had risen long before she had reentered the land of the living. The sagging door was propped open, and the unsettled sky could be seen out the opening. The storm from the night before had left behind thick, humid air and gray boiling clouds. There would be no sunning in the doorway today unless the clouds burned off later. The little bowls that had been scattered about had been gathered and emptied into a large tub in the corner. If it rained any more, they would have a nice amount of water. Maybe even enough for a bath?

Fuu's mind didn't want to start worrying about what needed to be done today. More than anything, she wanted to just snuggle back into her covers and sleep until the guys woke up. But what kind of friend would she be if she did that? It was bad enough that she had dragged them all across Japan. The least she could do was see to their needs. With them out of commission, Fuu had to fill the role of the protector.

So, with a heavy sigh, Fuu pushed her blanket back and gently rolled to her side so she could rise to a sitting position without using any stomach muscles. Her ribs didn't like the action much, but it hurt less than flexing her abdomen.

The movement caught the little retainer's eyes, and he quickly moved to her side, to aid her in any way she needed. Her mind was already racing with the things she wanted to try to gather today. A sense of impending doom still hung on the edges of her mind and the feeling of being watched and needing to get away would not diminish. The first order of business was to inventory the possessions from her father's house and then try to procure the missing necessities in the village, if possible. She needed to be ready to move the guys as soon as they woke up. For that matter, she needed a backup plan to move or hide the guys if some new threat approached while they were still unaware and vulnerable.

Kato fussed about being worried since it was midmorning and her not waking yet. Considering all the months she had traveled with the two jumpy, alert warriors before her, she felt she deserved a day to sleep late. If it wasn't Jin rising before the crack of dawn to meditate or something, then it was Mugen jumping up to investigate some suspicious noise. They were both so annoying, but their instincts had kept them alive during the trip. So she really shouldn't complain. But when did that ever stop her.

Fuu shifted slightly forward to fluff the matted hair on Mugen's head. She could almost hear him yelling about her whining and bitching about everything. Then, just by leaning over a bit, she combed her fingers through Jin's long hair. She could imagine him looking at Mugen, as Mugen was doing the aforementioned yelling, and giving the pirate a death glare. If it were a really trying day, the stoic ronin would probably even sigh, or make a condescending comment.

It was soothing to imagine their usual daily routines from their journey so far. It soothed her worries about the future. Truthfully, she had never even thought this far. There was so much that could have gone wrong during the meeting with her father. He could have apologized, begging for forgiveness, and taken her in. Unlikely, but it could have happened. Or he could have been furious and struck her down. She had no way of knowing because she didn't know that man at all.

Jin had even counseled her to think about what would happen "after meeting the sunflower samurai." But there was no way to predict that far in advance. Well, sure, Jin could. That was his specialty. Maybe that's what he was trying to get at that night by the river. She was sure he could have told her some possible outcomes. And as much as she wanted the guys to continue on with her, she knew they wouldn't. She had stolen months out of their lives that should have been theirs to do whatever they wanted with, instead of spending them in months of service to her.

Not only that, but there was the specter of the last fight hanging over her head. It wouldn't be right to continue her journey with only one of them. In her mind, they were the opposite halves of a whole. Like the heads and tails of the coin they thought she had tossed to start their obligation to her. As much as her girlish heart loved each man, she knew she could never pursue either man alone. Besides, her crush was just that; a childish crush on two very attractive, exciting warriors. Hopefully, some day in the not too distant future, because she was getting past prime marriageable age, she would settle down and find a nice man.

With a sigh, she turned to Kato who was smiling gently, and waiting with a bowl of broth to feed the comatose men. Since she was feeling better, she was quite glad that she could help with this intimate part of caring for her friends. The old man gave her the bowl while he gently raised Jin's torso off the ground and supported his head. She was rather glad that Jin was unconscious since this allowed her more of an opportunity to touch his rugged face. Her left hand gently gripped his jaw and noticed the beginning of stubble. As she was gently pouring a bit of soup past his slack lips, she thought about how she was going to shave him before he woke up. It would probably be better for Kato to do that. She'd hate to save his life from a sword battle, only to cut his throat with a shaving blade. To her shock, his eyes fluttered a bit as he swallowed greedily. It made her heart beat quicken as she anticipated him waking.

When most of the bowl of soup was emptied, she gently wiped his mouth. As if he were fragile, Fuu and the retainer gently rest Jin back on the floor and moved on to Mugen. She hoped Mugen would show some sign of waking like Jin had, but she was disappointed. Mugen slumbered on. Most of the soup made it into his mouth, and she gently massaged his neck to get him to swallow. It was when she was so close to him that she realized that the regular stubble he had on his chin was all the facial hair he seemed to have. Where Jin had a shadow over most of his jaw, Mugen had nothing more. Maybe it was because of their ages? Fuu had always assumed that Jin was older than Mugen. It probably had more to do with his attitude and regal bearing. But, now that she was looking at both their faces in a relaxed pose, she realized that they weren't much older than she was. Mugen looked like a cute boy and Jin looked barely old enough to be interested in girls.

Fuu smiled as she thought about the guys not being old enough to be interested in women. No, they were definitely men in that sense. With as much money as they squandered in brothels along their trip, there was no doubting their sexual maturity. Fuu flushed a bit wondering exactly what they found so appealing about brothels. Admittedly, she had been tossed into one, or was it two, but she couldn't see how a man could enjoy paying for that. I mean, where was the love? Where was the friendship? Didn't guys want love when they enjoyed a woman's body? It just made no sense to her.

When she had been pretending to be a boy in her younger years, she had befriended a girl in the brothel that the gang dragged her to. When the others were doing whatever they were doing behind closed doors, she and her friend just talked and napped. It made life easier for everyone and helped hide her secret. Part of her wished Jin had wanted her instead of buying that Shino woman, but she knew that she could not have given him her body casually. And the same realistic side of her knew that she would never appeal to Mugen because she was lacking in the "big hooters" department. Fuu fully expected both men to move on after they healed to find their own quests and wives. Yes, she even expected old scruffy, foul-mouthed Mugen to find someone to love him for the rest of his life. He wasn't all that bad once you got past the crabby attitude he used like armor.

She and Kato finished up feeding the guys and checking their bandages. It was so very important to keep the wounds clean so they didn't get sick. They would assess the wounds tomorrow to see if any needed stitching up. She gave the guys a quick once over with a wet washcloth and a bit of soap. It hadn't been long since she bathed them more thoroughly, but it gave her something to do. Also, it allowed some physical contact with their lean muscled bodies that she would rarely get to experience. It was hard to keep a silly grin off her face while she was doing this.

The little retainer bowed before her as she gently finished tending the men and asked, "Lady Fuu… if it would please you, may I inspect your wounds? Your ribs might need rewrapping." Fuu swiftly turned her head to glare at the little man as her thoughts whirled in her head. Realizing that his intentions were quite innocent, she acquiesced with a slight nod.

It was still terribly embarrassing to have a strange man look at parts of her that she considered private. Decent women did not go around showing off any skin other than face, hands and feet. Or so her Mom had told her. And, it had been one of the last things that her Mom had asked of her… to act like a true lady. She could pull off the act when she had to, but it still wasn't quite second nature. Yet, even when she was acting like a boy, it had been imperative to not show skin. Let's face it, there were some things that boys were bound to notice. So, she still had an innate desire to stay covered up.

She didn't appreciate the rougher than necessary pokes the old man dealt to her tender, bruised stomach and ribs, but she attributed it to dealing with men who were too 'tough' to show pain. In her mind she screamed, "Oh crap! That hurt!" and sucked in a breath. Unfortunately, that just dragged in the pungent smell of the bruise ointment that Kato was applying and almost made her gag.

As he was rewrapping her abused ribs Kato began talking to distract her from the discomfort. "Lady Fuu. With your permission, two men from the village will help me to bury the bodies found by the old abandoned church." His old voice was high and squeaky as he continued, "We will also bury the assassin from the cliff. If you don't mind, I will take a few coins out of your Father's purse to pay these men. That will help keep them quiet if anyone comes asking questions."

Fuu shuttered at the thought of anyone from the Shogun coming here any time soon. Hopefully, they would be long gone, and the trail as cold and dead as the assassin on the cliff. She turned her thoughts back to covering their trail and reminded the old man. "Don't forget to create an extra grave for me. We want anyone who comes snooping to think that the tree of us are buried somewhere along with the assassin. I'll decide later what to use as a marker to make them think the dummy grave is me."

A light drizzle began to fall from the grey turbulent sky as she patiently waited for the retainer to finish. "Has anyone gone to the beach to retrieve Mugen and Jin's broken swords? I want to make sure we have all the broken pieces of the blades too. They mean a lot to the guys. Jin once said that the swords were a samurai's soul. I'd hate to lose any of the pieces." It was a strange philosophy that she couldn't quite understand. Maybe it was tied to those prayer beads that were always nestled around Jin's wrist? If the swords were his soul, then who would he be now? Would he reinvent himself? Or would he wander, soulless for the rest of his days?

She shook off the dark thoughts and tried to think about something more practical. Her eyes fell on the half naked forms of her friends lying before her and her mind snapped to life. Clothes. She asked Kato "Kato-san, in the possessions that you salvaged from my Father's house, was there any extra cloth that I might use to repair Mugen and Jin's wardrobes?" She glanced lovingly to the scruffy pirate, "I need some red material. Enough to make two shirts, at least." It was a shame that Mugen didn't wear proper men's attire, but that just added to the mystique that was Mugen. Anyways, his usual style would require less fabric and less intricate stitching. As often as she patched up their battle torn clothes, it shouldn't be hard to replicate his favored red over shirt. Of course, it would be easier with the original to use as a pattern.

In her mind's eye, she tried to remember when she saw the red shirt last. He had it when he freed her from that awful church. Yet, when she found him half dead on the beach, it was missing. The only place she could imagine it being was in the ruins of that church. She would have to go looking for it when she felt more energetic. She could ask someone else to look, but it seemed too personal, too important, to delegate to a stranger.

After finishing up with her wraps, the old retainer handed her a bowl of rice, meat and vegetables. Hopefully, her stomach had healed enough from her beating to handle a bit of food. If not, she wasn't going to have the energy to do anything other than lay around like the guys. Being the attentive servant that he was, Kato poured her a steaming cup of medicinal tea and them moved towards one of the crates containing her Father's possessions.

Fuu gingerly ate at a snail's pace while Kato pulled out various packages until he withdrew a few articles of clothing. There was a navy colored bundle, a gray bundle, a white bundle, and a brown bundle. When he shifted back on his heels, she assumed that must be all of it, and there was no red in the batch. Of course, red was a bit flashy for a respectable businessman or samurai. Maybe Kato could purchase some in the village, or in the town on the mainland where the ferry docked.

The withered old man brought the bundles to Fuu and mentioned other things in the crates. "I gathered all of Seizou's personal effects that I could carry. There are journals, clothes, traveling necessities, money, house ware items and some mementos from his travels. I know he would want you to have them. I'll take the wagon over later today to collect the larger items that might help you during your stay, or in your travels."

It still disturbed her to use anything that came from her Father, since she was still angry at his abandonment, but this wasn't about her and her hurt feelings. This was about getting Mugen and Jin away safely, and making sure they were properly provisioned. So, instead of protesting, she simply nodded her head graciously and stared out into the wet world outside while she finished her meal.

After handing her empty bowl over to the smiling retainer, she set to work examining the bundles of cloth. The old man hustled around, washing the bowls, and setting the house, even though it was actually a shed, to rights. Then he bowed and headed out to do her biddings. She called after him to look for some red fabric, the brighter the better. It almost made her laugh to think about Mugen, trying to blend in and not be noticed, but wearing the brightest fabric he could find.

Fuu stretched out the bundles of fabric. In her mind, she could picture using the navy and gray to make replacement tops for Jin. He needed more than one and this would look like his previous kimono, minus the crest. As much as she knew he would hate losing the crest, it would help him escape notice and danger, much like the loss of his glasses would help him remain anonymous.

As she unfolded the gray fabric, she found that it was already a finished kimono. Judging by the proportions, it had been her Father's. A twinge ran through her heart as she pictured the big man from her childhood in that color. But, that was only a moment, and she returned to eyeing the cloth to determine how much it would need to be altered to fit Jin's leaner frame. She could use his torn kimono for a comparison. Maybe she could use the untouched part of his old kimono to create something for a keepsake. A pillow? A travel bag? A pouch for his money? She'd have to think about it when there were less pressing matters.

She moved on to the navy bolt of fabric and found that it was just that… a bolt of fabric. Well, she could always use the other kimono as a pattern. Although, eyeing the amount of the fabric, there was enough to make a formal kimono and maybe an extra pair of short pants that Mugen wore. Let's face it, Mugen needed another change of clothes too. Neither man was too gentle on clothing.

The brown cloth turned out to be another kimono that had seen a bit of wear and tear in places. When she stretched it out, she found there was probably enough salvageable material to make one of Mugen's short sleeve outer shirts. Sure, red was his signature color, but brown was close. Maybe he would only wear the brown while he was washing the red shirt. Still, she was determined to make this for him.

There was more white fabric than she knew what to do with. So, she decided to make each of them an under kimono for sleeping, except Mugen, his would be a shorter shirt like was currently wrapped around his waste with a bullet hole and knife gash in it. Maybe she would even try her hand at making some tabbi socks for her and Jin, although, she never had much luck on making good ones. Hers always turned out looking like hand puppets.

So, she set her mind on altering the gray kimono simply because Jin's old one was there to use as a template. She would have to go looking for Mugen's red shirt sometime later, when it stopped raining. With her plan firmly in mind, she slid over to the box of personal effects to look for a needle and thread.

If felt wrong somehow to go poking through someone else's things, even if they were technically now hers. It was like peeking at someone else's life. Little things that meant something to a stranger, who should never have been a stranger. She found many different papers that she would look at some other time. There were some letters. There was the journal Kato had mentioned. A small child's metal toy dog was wrapped in cloth to one side of the crate. Her brow creased as she thought "that's a strange thing to keep." There was a bit of jewelry in a small carved box. Finally, she found a bundle of thread and varying sized needles. As she withdrew this parcel, she absently wondered if any of these needles were ever used to close wounds.

As she was moving away from the crate, she noticed something familiar out of the corner of her eye. There was a long thin parcel behind the crate. Her curiosity got the better of her practicality and she set the sewing supplies down and pulled out this new object. Her first thought was "Jin's swords!" By the weight of the object and the feel of solidity under the shifting silk, Fuu knew this was a daisho; a pair of swords. She unwound the silk to reveal a strikingly beautiful katana (the long sword) and wakizashi (the shorter sword). The sheathes were a glossy dark blue that was almost black with gold scrollwork winding down the length like a living vine. The handles were wrapped in the traditional pattern of darker cording crossed over lighter cording. But the most striking aspect of the swords was the intricate carving on the tsuba (the sword guard). Vine carvings were twined around the hand guard and four, five-pedal flowers were stamped out of the material in uneven intervals.

Her heart skipped a beat as she gasped at the realization, "This must have been Father's daisho!"