Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Nenju ❯ XIII. The old pond ( Chapter 13 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don’t own Samurai Champloo or any of its affiliated characters, which belong to Manglobe/Shimoigusa Champloos. Neither do I own the haiku of Matsuo Basho (translation by R.H. Blyth, this chapter).

A/N: Yo. A dory is a small fishing boat with a flat bottom, flat angled sides, a single pair of oars and a simple spritsail. Han? Government officials. Relics? Yucky, but exist.

I’m taking liberties with Toyohashi, which wasn’t named that until 1869; before that time it was Yoshida. My map, however, was printed after 1869 and I’m using the modern name because my brain is close to capacity at the moment. Also, this chapter has some squick to it.


Nenju


Mugen wasn’t a superstitious man, but what that Noshiro guy had said had been enough to make the hair on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably.

The idea that Jin would betray them was —

“He wouldn’t,” he heard her mutter under her breath.

The ronin was walking far enough ahead of them that he would not have heard; since they’d left the town, he’d been walking steadily, face unreadable under the kasa, only pausing long enough for Fuu to dart off behind some trees.

He hadn’t spoken then, either.

Shit, Mugen thought.

He adjusted his pace to walk slightly behind her. “Move your ass, girlie,” he told her, voice pitched to carry. Then, more softly, “No. He wouldn’t.”

He nodded, seeing the corner of her mouth curl up.


The ghost village, for the most part, was still deserted after two years, though some of the houses showed signs that they’d been used in the not so distant past, either as shelter or as a source for building materials. They chose one of the smaller ones in which the firepit was in relatively good condition, and which had a sturdy roof. (The ronin and the girl were also in favor of the fact that the small house did not appear to have wild animals living in it, which Mugen privately believed was foolish. He’d reserve judgment on whether that was a bad thing or not, at least until he found out if the animals were tasty.)

Any rate, it seemed safe enough to leave Fuu, who was busy sorting through a pile of discarded crockery in hopes of finding something they could use, for a little while. “Oi,” Mugen said, flicking his eyes toward the door when Jin looked up at him. The other man nodded. “I’m taking fish face out for a minute. You leave here, don’t go too far, all right?”

“Fine, whatever,” she answered, pausing but not looking up as they walked out.

Mugen ambled alongside the ronin, loose and relaxed. “So, what was that back there?” he asked conversationally. “Because it’s bothering her.”

Jin frowned. “You wanted to tell me that?”

“No, and for someone who’s supposed to be as smart as you are . . . you’re not.”

“I’m well aware of that,” the other man said dryly. “Now, why are we out here?”

For answer, Mugen lazily flipped backwards onto his hands and sent a spinning roundhouse kick at the ronin’s midsection. Jin jerked away from the sharp edge of the geta, hand dropping automatically to the daisho at his hip; the Ryukyuan rolled away, grinning, as he sent a spatter of dirt wheeling up into the ronin’s unprotected face. Jin’s arm came up to cover his eyes, and succeeded only partially. He coughed and wiped at his cheeks, blinking, as Mugen squatted comfortably in the path alongside him.

When he stopped rubbing his face, Jin gave Mugen an icy glare. “What was that supposed to be?” the ronin bit out.

“You’re a little slower than you used to be,” Mugen observed. “Think I am, too.”

The glare faded, to be replaced by . . . interest?

“Thing about the shogun’s girl, she was fast.”

The ronin’s eyebrows quirked. “I . . . don’t believe I needed to know that,” he said.

The Ryukyuan gave him an annoyed look. “Look, it wasn’t weird or anything, we just — there was a little rough stuff.”

“With a woman?” Jin’s eyes narrowed, as Mugen winced. The ronin was funny about women that way; Mugen wasn’t much for fighting with women either — they generally had the advantage in that he was trying to subdue rather than hurt them, plus they fought dirtier than the average man — but he’d do it if one was trying to kill him or his. Still, there were times when he wished Jin had never heard of that screwed-up code of whatever of his.

“She hit me first, asshole! I didn’t hit her. I, ah — I pinned her to the wall, but that was it. And she kicked me.”

“Kicked you?”

Mugen gave the other man a significant look. “She kicked me.”

“Oh.” There was the smallest amount of sympathy in Jin’s voice. “I see.”

“Yeah.”

The ronin nodded, and began walking toward Toyohashi and the beach, Mugen falling into step beside him. “As quick as Sara?”

“No.”

“Hn. Good.” Jin sighed. “We should assume that Hankichi is at the girl’s level at least, if not quicker. I’d rather be pleasantly surprised than not.”

“Yeah, it’d be a change.”

“We’ll start this afternoon.”

Mugen shook his head. “Tomorrow would be better.” Jin gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

The fishermen were coming in with the catch, as they stepped onto the packed sand of the beach; Mugen watched the familiar scene, his eye automatically picking out which men kept their nets and gear in best repair, until he saw what he was looking for.

“That one,” he said softly to the ronin. “Third one from the left.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Tonight.” Satisfied, he looked up from the boats, out toward the rocky bluffs that curved past Toyohashi proper in an arc curling round the harbor. “Got to be in there, somewhere.”

“Is that where you’d put it?”

Mugen nodded. “Mukuro was evil, but he wasn’t stupid unless it came to Kohza.”
They walked down along the shoreline, for all intents and purposes two men out to stretch their legs, as the man in red looked for half-hidden rocks and shallows in the water. He didn’t remember enough from the time he’d been out on the water with Mukuro and his men, that was the trouble. Mugen scratched the back of his head, noting the position of the sun; it was starting to set, but it was late summer, which meant sunset lingered.

Dammit.

He grunted in frustration, and turned back to the ronin. “C’mon. Might as well go back, it’s going to be a while before we head out,” he said. “We do that thing, we’ll have a hard time doing it on an empty stomach.”

“Mm.”

They turned back toward the ghost village casually, as Mugen stuck his hands in his pockets. Jin, he noticed, had his hands tucked back up in his sleeves, and looked as relaxed as he’d ever seen him.

“Did you see him?” the ronin asked him calmly.

“Yeah.” The man in green had been their silent companion, up to the shoreline, when he’d prudently stayed back among the trees where he could keep watch over them. He’d almost been good enough to remain unseen, and probably would have been had he been following anyone else.

The oars creaked, the sound the song of wood and water he’d known since childhood, as the lantern lit their way. They’d switched places as they got closer to the land; Jin was turning out to be tolerably good with small boats, grasping instinctively the most efficient way to row without being told, and Mugen had settled himself in the prow of their borrowed dory to watch for anything that could tear a hole in the hull. He could swim, and he knew the ronin could as well (Mugen shook his head slightly to clear it of the memory of the other man in that pond near Osaka), but it would be again as difficult to retrieve the ryu from the bottom of the harbor. They’d been looking for a few hours — it would be time soon to take the boat back, before it was missed.

The cliff Jin was steadily rowing them past looked to be made of limestone, which meant there were more hidden caves at the base, carved by generations of waves. “Oi. Hold up,” Mugen told him softly, lifting the lantern to let it illuminate the rock face as they drifted in; there had not looked to be anyone awake in the town as they’d gently pushed the dory into the water, but voices traveled, he knew. At least the waning moon would hide them, though it made looking for the stolen ryu more difficult.

He peered inside as Jin let them drift up close. “Anything?” the ronin asked, using one of the oars to push them away from the rocks.

Mugen turned, and grinned wickedly at him, the dory nosing into the shallow cave. “How about a little farewell present from Mukuro?” He held the lantern up, the light spilling over to pool on boxes stacked on a rock shelf at the back of the cave.

Jin grunted in satisfaction.

She let the last gold ryu trickle through her fingers into the pile in front of her. “That makes two hundred,” she breathed, looking up at them wide-eyed. “Two hundred ryu.”

Mugen leaned back, lacing his hands together behind his head and grinning wolfishly at her; even Jin looked pleased, somehow, the Ryukyuan decided.

“We left the rest,” he told her. “It’s not going anywhere, and we can’t carry too much with us without attracting attention. We can always come back, right?”

“Hn.” Jin nodded. “We’ll have enough.”

“Well, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting to Nagasaki with this,” she said. “Even ten would have been enough for that.”

“Probably need some for travel, some for bribes, but most of this’s gonna be for wherever it is that you’re going,” Mugen told her.

Fuu sat back and gave them a skeptical look, the two hundred ryu forgotten. “Guys, I appreciate this and all, but — “ She paused. “We haven’t had any problems so far. I mean, anything that would be related to me, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know, but, um — how sure are you about the shogun’s men?” she asked. “It just doesn’t sound — and then Jin killed that Kariya man, they wouldn’t have had anyone else like that, would they?”

The two men exchanged glances, before Jin spoke. “Fuu — there are at least two of the shogun’s men who have followed us here.”

“What?” She went very still.

“They’ve been there since — “ Mugen shrugged, looking at the other man.

”Motomachi, I believe,” Jin said.
Her forehead wrinkled, as she studied the floor of the tiny house; when she spoke again, the words came out slowly. “And when did you plan on telling me this?”

Ooh, this — not good, Mugen thought. Not only was a pissed-off Fuu liable to yell and do something absolutely idiotic like stomp off and fall off a cliff into a river, there was also his own treacherous body to deal with; it was severely fucked-up that he could think of skinny little Fuu that way anyway, especially now, and when she was angry, it was — he turned his head slightly and examined the fine webbing of cracks in the wall of the tiny house. Winter would probably mean some damage, he thought, the foundation was not as steady as it could be —

“We only saw them in Hamatatsu,” Jin told her. “It wasn’t until today that we saw one of them here.”

“Mm.” She raised an eyebrow at that, but failed to start yelling, so that was good, Mugen thought. She looked from Jin to him, her mouth drawn up. “All right,” she said. “You two, start talking.”

“Hey, we told you — “ Mugen protested, before she cut him off.

“No. You need to tell me what you know, and how you know it,” she said. “Otherwise, I really appreciate what you two have done for me, but goodbye.” She crossed her arms and gave them a look so ridiculously grumpy, that it made him want to burst out laughing . . . probably not a good idea, he decided.

“Hn.” Jin nodded. “You’re right, Fuu. We should have told you in the beginning.”

She gave him an approving look, and turned to Mugen expectantly.

“Uh. Yeah,” he told her. “Won’t do it again.” Probably, he amended. Unless it’s a good idea. Or sounds like one at the time.

He grinned at her.

Fuu gave him a dubious look, but didn’t press the point. “Good. Now, talk.”

Jin was pointedly studying the edge of his sleeve; Mugen shrugged, and began.

“After we left the crossroads, I went down to the harbor in Nagasaki,” Mugen said. “I wasn’t there long before I found a ship that was sailing to the mainland and then to Matsumae. They needed extra hands, and Matsumae sounded as good as anything else — I knew most of the han who’d killed Okuru were dead, and the ones that were left, I figured they probably weren’t gonna be looking for me. Besides that, I never went that far north before, so why not?

“Get to Matsumae — where I froze my ass off, by the way, I don’t know what’s up with the people dumb enough to live there — and when I start asking around about villages where everyone got sick and the han burned the place down, turns out there’s more’n one. Anyway, I’m in this place for some sake when I run into some of the crew from the ship. They start telling me the ship was leaving on the tide for Edo, with a bonus for every hand if we can get there quick because one of the shogun’s personal guards was on board, and he needed to get there sooner than yesterday.

“Wasn’t anything for me in Matsumae, so I went back to the ship. I know you two never been on one that size, so I’ll tell you that no matter how much you want to keep a secret on board, you can’t. The only way you’re gonna do it is if you keep your mouth shut and everyone that’s with you keeps theirs shut, too. Shogun’s man didn’t know that, though — maybe he didn’t care, I don’t know — and he used to talk to the guy he was traveling with, a lot. Everyone could overhear him when they were on watch, but I don’t think anyone else was listening. I wouldn’t’ve paid any attention, but he was talking about the Christians.”

“Wait. How long ago was this?” Fuu asked.

Mugen scratched his ear. “Maybe four months to sail to Matsumae, one to Edo — year and a half, I guess. Just wait, willya?”

She grumbled, but subsided as he continued.

“Do you remember those stepping pictures?” Mugen asked Jin, who nodded. “I don’t know if you’ve seen ‘em, Fuu, they’re these pictures of stuff like in that Christian temple that was on Ikitsuki, and you can tell if someone’s one if they won’t step on the picture. Anyway, they’re getting impatient — going around with stepping pictures is taking too long, and it doesn’t work as good as it used to.

“So, what the shogun’s man said they were going to do was find the Christian leaders that were left, and make an example of them and their families.” The Ryukyuan paused, remembering the cold nausea that had risen in his stomach as the man spoke. “He mentioned your sunflower dude by name,” he told her.

“Oh.” She looked at him with wide, stricken eyes, and he felt a pain; she was so small —

“They talked about the Christians more — “ Mugen broke off, and gave Jin a flat, bleak glance. “I really don’t want to tell her this,” he said. “It’s not gonna help.”

“She needs to know,” the ronin said quietly.

Awkwardly, Mugen reached out and squeezed her hand; his had gone clammy, he knew. “They were talking about something — the Christians think that the ones that the shogun’s men kill are important — “He opened his mouth, but could not find the words.

”The Christians who have been killed are important to the rest,” Jin said steadily. “They are so important to them that sometimes they believe that things that belonged to those who were killed have power in themselves.”

“Things?” she asked, her fingers tightening around Mugen’s. “Why — “

”I don’t understand why, myself,” Jin told her. “Father Zuikou said they were called relics, and that they could be anything. Clothing, books — but it’s the dead Christians themselves that are particularly powerful, even if it’s only a small part of them. A small bone from a finger, or even some hair.”

Her free hand curled up toward her mouth, and she had gone pale, so pale — Mugen braced himself to catch her, if she fell.

“We don’t know what happened to them, Fuu,” the ronin said gently. “After Mugen found me, we went to Nagasaki to find you, but the shogunate was already there on the island and looking for you. You were more important for us to find.”

“Them?”

Mugen nodded, as Jin said, “Your mother, as well. I’m sorry, Fuu. They were unsure as to whether the Christians would have an interest in her or not.”

“Oh.” Letting go of Mugen’s hand, she got up restlessly from where she was sitting, and stood for a moment in the door looking out at the crescent moon. She rubbed her thin arms as if to warm them. When she turned toward them again, her face was solemn but controlled. “Did they say anything else, Mugen?”

He shook his head. “When we got to Edo, I left the ship and headed south to find Jin.”

He felt the cloth of her kimono brush against him as she sat back down, facing the ronin. “Well, Jin?” she asked.

The ronin folded his hands into his sleeves. “There isn’t much for me to tell you. In my travel, I had heard the shogunate was moving against the Christians, but I was unaware of the suppression of the relics,” he said. “I had noticed that they were treating the Christians much more harshly than I had seen them do before.”

Fuu frowned in puzzlement. “Where were you?”

Jin’s eyebrow twitched. “I went east, from the crossroads. I did not stay in any one place, for very long.”

“What were you doing?” she asked curiously.

The eyebrow twitched, again; Mugen leaned forward, trying to stifle a grin. He’d been trying unsuccessfully to worm the full story out of the other man since he’d come across him on a dusty road in the south.

“Many things,” the ronin said, evasively, and the Ryukyuan stopped trying to hide his merriment. Of all the things to say — Mugen decided that somehow, Jin had completely missed out on learning how not to draw the woman’s attention to something he wanted to skim over.

Fuu now demonstrated that, while the two men were masters of the Raised Eyebrow, she was their equal in the lethal art of the Puppy Eyes. The ronin shifted uneasily. “What were you doing, Jin?” she repeated herself, sweetly.

“I — was part of a group that traveled with a daimyo’s daughter to her wedding.”

“Mm?”

Ooh. Mugen winced. It would be any moment now — Jin was lasting longer than he’d thought, but that almost looked like sweat beading along the ronin’s temple.

Jin muttered something then, of which Mugen only caught a quarter. Something about books?

“What was that?” she asked serenely. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I read.”

Nonplussed, she gave him a strange look, as Jin sighed.

“Out loud, to other people.” When neither Fuu nor Mugen said anything, the ronin reached into his pack and pulled out an old but obviously well-cared for book. “The Taiheiki was popular, and the Tales of Genji — “

Fuu bit her lip. “You were embarrassed about that?”

Jin opened his mouth to answer, as Mugen snickered. “‘M not surprised,” the Ryukyuan told them. “You do a pretty good job reading aloud, even if it’s just stupid stuff like what the weather was like, or food — “ He stopped himself, as the ronin looked on smugly.

Fuu’s eyes narrowed dangerously at them both, as Jin’s smug expression faded.

Oh, shit —

“Stupid stuff?” she asked softly. “It wouldn’t have been if I could have trusted you two to keep out of my things!”


“Ow! Goddammit, fish face, I told you not to show her how to hit!”

“ . . . “