Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Nenju ❯ XXV. Whore and monk, we sleep ( Chapter 25 )

[ 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 (I believe the translation of the haiku this chapter’s title is taken from was done by R.H. Blyth, but if anyone can tell me differently, please, please do let me know so I can credit the proper source).

A/N: Fangirl Japanese alert! A kamayari is a three-bladed weapon; Sara the goze carried one in episodes #20 and 21. An engawa is the raised wooden walkway outside of buildings. And much love to my wondrous beta, FarStrider, who is easily worth her weight in French toast. :loves: All the good stuff here is due to her, but you knew that, right?


Nenju


If he’d only heard them a little earlier, Jin thought as he waited outside the room. He could see them all reasonably well, and their voices carried out into the hallway as if he was next to Kazunosuke.

Unfortunately, no one was saying what was in the small, cloth-wrapped parcel Fuu had in her arms.

Or why she was staring at the twins, her eyes full of surprise.

“ — so we thought, we knew this man who does this stuff, and we took it to him with what we remembered,” Tatsunoshin said. “We talked about it a little before we went to Edo, because we just sort of assumed that since — well.” He rubbed the back of his head and gave Fuu a sheepish smile.

“But — “ The girl looked at them, as Jin leaned forward. Was she blushing? “I don’t know — I really shouldn’t take this.” She held the bundle out to them.

Kazunosuke shook his head. “Nope. We want you to have it, even if you don’t . . . ” He gently pushed it back toward her, as her lower lip began to tremble. “Not like either Tatsu or I will ever need it, right?” He grinned.

“Kazu — “ Fuu made a noise like a squashed kitten and threw herself into his arms. Kazunosuke gave his brother a surprised, what-do-I-do-now? look before gingerly patting her back. She let him go before embracing Tatsunoshin, who grinned self-consciously over her shoulder; the boy looked slightly too pleased, given that his affections were still with the man in Edo, Jin thought. “It’s too much. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just make sure you use it.” Tatsunoshin gave her a squeeze before setting her down.

She laughed and cuddled the bundle to her. “Any ideas as to how?”

Kazunosuke chuckled. “As a matter of fact — “

”You’ll know,” Tatsunoshin cut in firmly. “Kazu, shut up. Or Andou-dono is going to hear a little story about how you wouldn’t sleep without your special quilt until you were tw— “

The corner of Jin’s mouth twitched, as the blond Niwa grabbed his brother; Fuu looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh. “You gotta wash out that ugly hole in your face, ‘cause it’s full of crap,” Kazunosuke said. “You want to tell stories? I remember how you used to pretend you and Jin would go off and fight monsters — “

”Dumbass, I can’t believe you. You were so scared of the monsters you had to change your — “

”Going now,” Fuu said, nearly forgotten as the twins picked up their continuing squabble. “I don’t want to know any of this. Any.”

Jin hurried down the hallway before she came out of the room — there would be any number of questions if she realized he’d overheard, and she had an unerring sense for when something she wanted to keep private came into conflict with something he and Mugen were interested in knowing. He doubted she’d listen to the argument Takeda Shingen had made about knowing the enemy, no matter how utterly logical it was — and slipped back into the room he’d been sharing with the Ryukyuan. There was no one there; Mugen’s things were gone. He packed quickly.

Time to go.


Jin found Mugen outside, squatting next to a maple with his belongings wrapped neatly for traveling. The longsword was on his back, the ends of the Ryukyuan’s rough hair brushing the edge of the hilt. The leaves were beginning to turn, becoming bronze and copper at their edges: they’d reach Nagasaki before autumn broke summer’s back for good, the ronin realized, but it would be prudent to take the onset of winter into consideration. If it was Ryukyu they were traveling to, they’d be sailing in late autumn at the earliest. Would there be storms at sea? He filed that thought away, to be brought out again when they were on the long road away from Hiroshima.

“Ready?”

Mugen nodded and knotted the ends of his pack together, before straightening. “You?”

“Mm.” The ronin studied him for a moment. Mugen’s eyes were hard, fierce underneath that wild hair. It was more unkempt than usual, and would undoubtedly stay that way until Fuu nagged him into doing something about it. It worried Fuu, Jin knew; the girl went to great lengths to stay clean herself, and any untidiness was taken as a sign of something tremendously wrong. Mugen had washed his hands and face, probably at her urging, but hadn’t bothered with anything else.

Jin knew why. He’d done it himself, the first few months after.

“She knows we’re leaving?” The Ryukyuan’s voice was harsh.

“Yes.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves. “The twins were giving her something when I saw her. I doubt it’ll be very long.”

“Something?” Mugen repeated. “Like what?”

“I have no idea.”

The other man grunted.

Jin turned. “I’ll tell her we’re ready.”

“Jin?”

“Hn?”
“When you left the dojo — “ Mugen began, slowly.

Ah. The ronin waited, his eyes on a cluster of flowers at the edge of the garden; the petals were extraordinary, delicate brushstrokes of scarlet tipped with yellow unfolding against the sky. They looked the most fragile things, but he remembered seeing the same red when he’d first come to Gojuu years ago. The boy he’d been then was as distant, as different from what he was now as the moon, he thought. Had that been the first time he’d left the dojo? That boy had been about as well-prepared for the world outside the Mujuu as a puppy.

“What did you do?”

“Probably what you did, when you left Ryukyu.” Jin sat on the edge of the engawa. “I ate and slept where I could. I didn’t go far.”

Mugen nodded. “What about . . . “

”Mariya-dono?”
“Yeah.”

“I realized after some time that there was very little that could be done,” Jin told him.

The ronin did not mention that he’d come to this realization in the middle of a field, one midwinter’s day months after he’d fled from the dojo and his blood-spattered futon in the middle of the night, nor how utterly foolish and powerless and weak he’d felt. Neither did he mention how long afterward that he’d held the drawn wakizashi in fingers that had gone blue: nor how much it had been worse than dying to put it away.

Instead, Jin said, “It would have been a great insult to him to throw my life away, even if I had known the name of the person on whom I needed to use my sword.” He gave Mugen a grim smile. “I saw that by keeping myself alive, I could be a difficulty for that person even without knowing who he was.”

Mugen was looking off into the distance, his face still, but the ronin could feel a jagged edge in the other man somewhere slipping back into place. “Yeah,” Mugen said softly. “But I know.”

—

Fuu was rolling up her futon, biting her lower lip in concentration, the edge of her sharp little teeth visible in the plump flesh there as Jin came up to the door of her room. Somehow, it was ridiculously endearing. “It’s time,” he said, as she looked up at the sound of his feet on the tatami.

“I know.” She brushed away a wrinkle in the coverlet. “I wish — “

”What?” He walked toward the thing the twins had given her, which was sitting in the middle of the floor, still wrapped in cotton.

“Oh, I’ve got that.” She snatched up the bundle before he could get to it. What was that thing?

“Fuu, let me carry that. Is it heavy?”

“It’s very light — thanks, Jin, but I can manage it. You’re already carrying my things anyway.”

“Hn.” He gave it a last curious glance; he’d have to get the Ryukyuan to help him find out what the parcel was. “What do you wish?”

“What? Oh. I was thinking about this place.” Fuu rocked back on her heels, stretching. “I’m glad you saw Tatsu and Kazu again.”

“Ah.” Tatsunoshin and Kazunosuke — he’d deliberately been avoiding thinking about the twins, and the feeling of breaking his promise to Niwa-dono to look after them. Although, he thought, it was a drop in the bucket compared to the mountain of guilt he already had. “I am, too.”

“How is he?” Fuu tilted her head in the direction of the garden.

“He is Mugen,” Jin told her. “He’ll be better off once we leave.”

“I heard you talking before,” she said, as he fell silent. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if he was going to do something . . . “

”Foolish?”

Fuu smiled. “I was going to say dumb, but yeah.”

Jin considered. “It is . . . difficult for him,” he said, searching for the right words. “Death has always been something straightforward for him, I think. I don’t believe he has ever felt responsible for a death that he did not directly cause, before.”

“Oh.” She looked thoughtful. “I suppose not.”

“It’s an unpleasant feeling.” If she’d heard all of it — he remembered telling them some of it, that last night before Ikitsuki; the wound of Mariya-dono’s death had still been too raw, too painful for him to tell them everything. He’d tell her, Jin decided, some night when the campfire had gone to embers.

“I know.” She gave him a bleak little smile when his eyes flickered to her face. “Come on, Jin. How many people are dead because I decided to go to Nagasaki? There’s Yuri, for one. My father. Can’t forget Sara, either. Mugen can blame me instead of himself for what happened to Bundai.”

“No,” Jin said. How long had he been this blind, he wondered; of course she’d blame herself. Slowly, he brought his hand up to rest on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “It is not your fault. None of this is your fault, Fuu.”

Fuu shook her head. “Saying that doesn’t make it less true. If I lived a hundred lifetimes, I don’t think I could begin to make up for everything that’s happened. I don’t — “ she said, frowning. “I just want everyone to be able to have a normal life, you know? I want Tatsu and Kazu to be able to go back to Edo and fight about stupid stuff, and be dumb about that designer guy, and be safe. I want Maria and her sons — even the jerk — to be able to live in their little house. I want Yuri to be alive and get married to someone boring, who tracks dirt in from outside, but she doesn’t care because she loves him anyway.” She leaned against him and he put his arm around her; he could feel the sharp edges of her shoulder blades through the pink kimono and something caught in his chest.

He let his lips brush against her hair — surely, he could be forgiven for that. “I would not have a lord who prized empty honor and thought only of self-preservation,” he said ruefully, and tipped her face up with his fingers under her chin. “Even if you had chosen to stay in Edo, you couldn’t have kept them safe.”

“You would have been safer,” she said. “You and Mugen. If something happened to either one of you — I don’t think I can ever make it up to you, what you two went through. You almost died, Jin — I thought you were going to. And Mugen — ”

“We didn’t.” The irises of her eyes were the clearest brown, like a stream over fallen leaves in autumn; almost of their own volition, his fingers came up to brush over her face. “We won’t. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.” She shook her head again. “Don’t make a promise you might not be able to keep.”

“I’ll keep that one.” He bent toward her as her eyes closed, lashes a delicate fan against her skin.

Her mouth was soft and cool, under his.

This kiss was nothing like the one they’d had in the forest — that had been all hunger and raw want, he hadn’t had time to put up any defense against her. This, this was tender, an offering of warmth and redemption; he’d had enough time to think to keep her from slipping under his guard, but the reasons why he would want to do such a thing were as morning mist. Her hands had gone from palms against his chest to clasping his kimono, resting over his spine as she kissed him back, and Jin wanted nothing more than to soak in her sunny affection for the rest of his life.

He let her go, when he became conscious of the desire coiling inside of him. That . . . would keep, he decided, tucking her against him, her hair tickling the underside of his chin. This was hardly the place or the time, and the Ryukyuan deserved to know who she’d chosen. Mugen had the right to know, he thought.

A cough from the doorway made him look up. How long the Niwa brothers had been standing there, he had no idea — how rusty had his skills become, if the twins could sneak up on him undetected, he reflected — although they were both grinning and Kazunosuke was blushing furiously.

“Uh,” Tatsunoshin began, trying to hide his grin of approval. “We can come back later — “

”Much, much later,” Kazunosuke added. “Sorry, bro.”
”Hn,” Jin said, as Fuu stepped away from him, her eyes downcast and her cheeks tinted pink. “No, it’s fine.”

“Mugen said you were getting ready to leave.” And by ‘getting ready to leave’, Tatsunoshin’s eyes told him clearly, he meant ‘stick your tongue down her throat’. Obviously I came to the right place for advice on Andou-dono!

It was probably a good thing that, in all likelihood, he was leaving the country, Jin decided. Those two would never let him live this down, would they?

“Yes. I was just telling Fuu.” The ronin shot the younger Niwa an evil glare as the blond man opened his mouth to speak; Kazunosuke subsided, his face still full of merriment. “Fuu. Mugen is waiting for us outside,” the ronin said firmly.

“Um. Right!” She picked up the bundle, gave the Niwas an embarrassed smile and fled, leaving him to face them alone.

Obviously, some sort of repair to his dignity was called for, if he was to properly instill some sort of values in them: something that would help them to live as the sons of Niwa-dono should, and more importantly, something that would keep them alive should the shogunate take an interest in them. “Ah. Tatsunoshin, Kazunosuke — “

”Bro, we know what you’re gonna say already,” Kazunosuke told him. “And we think it’s great.”

Well . . . that had been much easier than he’d thought. “Hn?”

The older Niwa nodded. “We like her, a lot. I mean, sure, she doesn’t have that cute little squirrel any more, but the way she looks at you, it’s obvious.”

Jin’s eyebrow twitched uncontrollably. That hadn’t been — it was obvious? Really? “Actually, I was planning to tell you to go back to Edo as soon as possible. Now would be best, no later than this evening,” he said, reluctantly leaving the topic of what the twins had seen that he hadn’t. “Stay in places with a lot of people nearby. Go to the textiles merchant, when you reach Edo.”

The brothers exchanged a glance of perfect understanding. “We’re all ready to go. We’ll stay with Andou-sama once we get to Edo,” Kazunosuke told the ronin.

“You’ll leave tonight?”

Tatsunoshin smiled. “One of the guys who used to come out tagging with us has a boat now — he said he’d take us as far as Bizen.”

“Good.” Jin rested his hand against the familiar weight of the daisho at his hip. “You asked me about something earlier,” he said, awkwardly. “I — “

Tatsunoshin held up a hand to stop him. “Dad would’ve told us we knew the answer already. And we do . . . we just haven’t figured it out yet. But we’ll have a lot of time between now and Edo.” His broad face shone, as he gestured for Jin to walk ahead. “Now get out of here, willya? Your girlfriend’s waiting.”

Jin’s eyes slid sideways to him, as Kazunosuke snickered, following after them down the hallway. “My — what?”

“I’m sorry. Your honey bunny.”

“Stop that.”

“Your sweet bean dumpling?”

“I should have left you in that tree,” Jin told him, as they stepped off the engawa into the garden where Fuu and Mugen were waiting. The twins laughed, as the ronin walked over to her with all the dignity he could muster, given that the idea of a formal relationship with Fuu had caused an absurd warmth to kindle inside him. He’d never liked the idea that anyone else would see her as an unmarried woman, traveling unchaperoned with two men, and think less of her for it — Jin gave her a real smile, as her head came up; perhaps in Nagasaki —

Fuu looked at him then, her eyes full of unhappiness, and he realized in one long, horrible moment what she was about to do.

— oh please please no oh gods not that please no no I can’t —

— and of course he should have known what she was going to do; so stupid of him not to have seen it —

Her eyes full, she walked past him and slipped her hand into Mugen’s.

“Let’s go,” she said.

—

Thankfully, the shogun’s men did not wait long.

—

Jin had chosen to walk behind them. In a way, it was easier if he didn’t have to imagine it.

Mugen had let go of Fuu after the first few steps and was walking with his arms crossed loosely behind his head. She held the bundle the twins had given her; her eyes were on the ground in front of her, her head bowed so that he could not see her face — f he’d wanted to, he could have reached out and touched the nape of her exposed neck — but somehow she had become the Ryukyuan’s even without the man’s hand on her.

Jin knew why she had done it, of course.

It was idiotic, and a little part of him wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled in her well-intentioned little head, and it was so completely Fuu that he could have laughed until he cried; but in the end, she’d made her choice, and it hadn’t been him.

To his credit, Mugen had done nothing to rub his failure in his face. He’d muttered a ‘sorry’ as they walked past Jin and the gaping twins, tugging Fuu along after him; that was it.

Jin hadn’t expected him to gloat, to be fair, but he would have expected something more than that — that quiet acceptance on Mugen’s face.

The festival was in full swing, red lanterns hanging from every conceivable surface as they reached the center of town, and Mugen took her hand again to keep her from becoming separated from them as they walked. Jin automatically narrowed the gap between himself and the Ryukyuan to a sword’s length as the crowds pressed in nearer, the closer they got to the Obon tower; he concentrated on the people around them, letting the dojo consume everything within him for now.

Movement at the corner of his vision drew his eye, and Mugen’s as well; the Ryukyuan drew in a long hissing breath. Jin turned his head — ah, the pretty whore from Osaka, the one who’d turned out to be ninja, was walking not more than five steps away from them, the man with the enormous mole, who’d followed him out to the enkiri dera, flanking her. The ronin looked around, counting — five, no, at least six of them, from the way they ignored the festival in favor of watching them. One of them, an older man with a paunch, eyed him fearlessly.

The whore was looking at Fuu’s hand in Mugen’s, and scowling; she was angry? Jin filed that thought away for future reference, as the older man slipped in next to him. “If you’re waiting for her to come at you with a kamayari, it won’t happen,” the man told him in a cheerful voice. “We tried that already. You must be the teacher killer — I’ve been looking forward to seeing you in action.”

So. Jin drew the katana at his hip just enough that the hilt cleared the scabbard guard; he opened his mouth to speak —

And Mugen was there, his eyes gleaming in the light from the red lanterns. “And which teacher killer did you mean?” he said, silken-voiced. “Because I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

—