Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Sweet Nothings ❯ Counting Cranes ( Chapter 2 )

[A/N]

 

Thanks for everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I got a couple of guesses on what's up with Fuu in the last chapter. Some guessed heartache, and one of you actually got it right on the mark! Bravo! The rest just wait for me to update, haha.

 

Oh, just a side note: This chapter will probably have about six to ten chapters total, depends I'm still writing it as we speak. Each chapter is ten pages, more or less so I suppose in a way it's long. This is good news to some, bad news to others…Whatever, just enjoy dammit.

 

[Disclaimer]: Samurai Champloo is like a dog in the window. I watch it from behind the glass and am completely in love with it…but I can't have it…

 

 

+++

 

 

Sweet Nothings

By Youkai Yume

 

Chapter 2: Counting Cranes

 

 

The sound of wind chimes floated into the depths of his consciousness, as if beckoning him to surrender to the morning light. Jin opened his eyes slowly; wincing at the flood of sunlight that filtered into his room through the windows. He mentally groaned when he realized that he slept longer than usual. The samurai was so used to getting up even before the sun did.

 

Dark eyes looked around the unfamiliar room. Ah, that's right, he had slept over at Fuu's last night. The fresh smell of miso and cooked fish pervaded his senses, and Jin found himself quickly making his bed and washing up so that he could venture into the kitchen where the delicious aroma was calling to him.

 

Fuu was already busily setting up the table, humming a cheery tune as she did so. Jin let himself linger at the doorway for an instant, just watching the girl prepare breakfast and listening to the gentle song that emanated from her voice. As if sensing the samurai's presence, Fuu looked up at a rather dazed Jin.

 

“Ohayo!” She smiled brightly; “Did you sleep well? I'm going to assume you did, because this is the first time I've seen you wake up so late!”

 

“Ohayo, Fuu. And yes, I did sleep well. Arigato,” he nodded politely. His eyes visibly went to the food that was neatly laid out for the both of them, and he could feel his mouth water at the simple aroma of it all. Fuu noticed instantly and promptly stood up, dragging the man over.

 

“See? I promised you that I'd make you breakfast and I did.”

 

“I don't think I've ever tasted your cooking before, Fuu,” Jin admitted before settling down.

 

“What? The rice cakes—“

“I hardly call that a meal,” he commented, picking up a pair of chopsticks. Fuu mumbled something about ungrateful men before picking up her own chopsticks.

 

“Itadakimasu,” both of them thanked before digging in. They both ate in comfortable silence. It had been a long time since he had had a proper meal with any of his longtime friends, and he didn't mind getting used to it. Fuu's home cooking was indeed…delightful to the senses. Why didn't she ever tell them she was such a good chef? She could have made them meals instead so they didn't have to spend money at restaurants.

 

But then again…since they were always broke, it's not like they could have afforded ingredients or cooking utensils in the first place.

 

As he gladly took in second helpings, he noticed that Fuu did not eat as much as he knew she was capable of eating. It was a scary thought. She seemed to notice his eyes on him though, and smiled meekly.

 

“Sorry, I don't think I'll be eating much this morning.”

 

Whoa. That was REALLY scary.

 

“It's just that, well I really must be getting to work.”

 

Ah. So that was it. Jin put down his bowl and chopsticks. “You work?”

 

“Of course! I don't live off of dirt, you know.”

 

“Hn,” Jin chuckled, glancing at the bountiful breakfast.

 

“Well, I hate to leave you so early. Especially since we probably won't get to see each other much after this,” Fuu admitted ruefully.

 

“After this…?”

 

“You're leaving today, aren't you? Wouldn't want to keep Shino waiting.”

 

Jin noted that when she said this, she refused to meet his eyes and her small fists balled at her sides. He couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed at this. He wondered if it was a sign that Fuu wanted him to leave or if she wanted him to stay a bit longer. True, he needed to return to Shino, but something compelled him—he didn't know what, but it told he was needed HERE.

 

Perhaps it was the way Fuu looked so pale and thin in the morning light, or the way her hazel eyes reflected a sadness that didn't belong.

 

“I…didn't say that I had to leave today,” the samurai started slowly. Hazel eyes met with his dark ones immediately, a familiar twinkle in their depths.

 

“Really?”

 

A lurch could be felt somewhere in his stomach as he realized that she had wanted him to stay.

 

This fact…made him oddly happy. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was what she said earlier. That it wasn't everyday that he got to spend time with Fuu, a girl that had been his traveling companion for about a year (perhaps even more) and one of the closest friends that he ever had. They had been through so much together, and he and Mugen had risked their lives countless times to save her. In return this small slip of a girl, saved them by keeping them together. Holding their hands—metaphorically of course.

 

Just a day more, Jin thought. For Fuu. Shino will understand.

 

“Let's get this cleaned up, and I'll walk you,” Jin offered. “Besides, I want to see where you work,” he added with a smile reserved only for Fuu. But it was quickly gone, only to be replaced by a frown. “It's not a brothel, is it?”

 

And all she could do was laugh, the sound of her voice melding with that of the wind chimes in the morning summer sky.

 

 

+++

 

 

The restaurant was a busy place, customers came in and out in a seemingly endless fashion and the chef in the kitchen worked nonstop, filling order after order. The waitresses were on their feet the entire time too—Fuu among one of them.

 

She had told him that she couldn't turn down a job that let her sneak a dumpling once in a while. At first, Jin had watched as the girl set to work, running in and out while balancing plates on her slender arms. Once in a while, she complained about her aching feet, but in a playful manner rather than intentionally whiny.

 

“Would you like me to help?” Jin offered, feeling restless and rather useless as well just sitting there.

 

“Oh no,” Fuu waved her hands. “What kind of person would I be if I asked you to help me do my job? Besides, I want to earn my keep. Is there anything I can get for you, though? On the house!” she asked with a smile. Jin shook his head, a bit deflated that she refused his help. She had always wanted his help before… Fuu quickly went back to work, carrying more trays to a nearby table.

 

Jin was about to contemplate ordering something after all when he heard a loud crash on the other side of the room.

 

“Ah! Look at the mess you've made, you clumsy wench! What am I supposed to eat now?” A man from one of the tables scowled at the girl who was clutching her chest on the ground, the food and tray spilled all around her. Jin immediately went over to her when he realized it was none other than Fuu. Her face scrunched up together and her teeth were clenched as if she was in pain. The words of the angry customer drowned in her ears.

 

“Fuu,” Jin kneeled down beside her. “Are you alright? What happened?”

 

She gave him a withering smile; her face flushed a bit. “Sorry, I felt kind of faint just now. But I'm okay.”

 

“What seems to be the prob— Oh dear,” the old shopkeeper emerged from the kitchen, an apologetic look on his face as he scuttled over to where the fuming customer was. “I'm terribly sorry about this sir. We'll get you another order—free of charge, alright?”

 

This seemed to please the man, and he grunted in response before settling down. The old shopkeeper turned to Fuu. “Are you alright, Fuu-san?”

 

“H-Hai,” she nodded, embarrassed. “I'm sorry…I'll get this cleaned up right away, please don't fire me!”

 

“Fire you?” a laugh resounded in the restaurant. “Heaven's no. Just take care of this mess and take a short break. You've been working too hard.”

 

“…Yes sir,” Fuu said dejectedly before setting to do her task. Jin saw that her cheeks burned with embarrassment, as if ashamed to let him see her make such a blunder.

 

“I really am worried,” the samurai turned over to the old man, whose brow was creased together in a knot. “That's the third time this month.”

 

“Third?” Jin asked softly.

 

“Yes, well Fuu is my hardest working waitress,” the shopkeeper commented. “She tends to work herself so hard that things like this happen. Often, it would be once a month. But lately these collapses of hers have been occurring frequently.”

 

Jin's lips thinned at this, concern beginning to creep into his stomach. Frequently? How frequently?

 

“I tell her that she should take it easy, let some of the others fill in for her. But she insists on earning her pay fairly, and every time I ask her, she just tells me she needs the money. I hear she lives alone, so that must have something to do with it.”

 

“I'd like to help,” the samurai said quickly.

 

“Eh? You looking for a job? Sorry, but we're currently not hiring.”

 

“You don't have to pay me,” Jin said quietly, then glanced over to where Fuu disappeared behind the flap door. “You see, I'm a friend of Fuu's, and I…”

 

“Ah, I see,” the old man nodded, understanding. “Very well. I get the impression that you're going to help out around here whether or not I say no. Suit yourself. Go to the back and bring out some of the orders. The chef will tell you which ones go where.”

 

“Thank you,” he bowed politely and swiftly moved to begin his work. No doubt later Fuu would be slightly angry that he insisted on doing such a thing. But that didn't matter to him. Jin felt uneasy knowing that Fuu was working so hard that it made her sick, and not doing anything about it.

 

She'd probably pout at him first before calling him stubborn. And then…well, knowing Fuu she'd probably smile.

 

 

+++

 

 

It was dark by the time they returned. Both were slightly sweaty and tired from the day's work, and neither said anything much. Once in a while, Fuu would look over at Jin and comment on how he really shouldn't have butted into her business like that before thanking him all in one breath. The samurai could only walk after her in silence, noticing only the dust that settled over their feet as they continued down the dirt path back to the girl's little abode.

 

Hopefully, there would be a hot bath and meal once they got inside.

 

Jin wondered slightly if she was all right or not. He couldn't help but be concerned for his friend after what the old shopkeeper said about Fuu's frequent collapses. But from the way she began to skip and hum once in a while, he concluded that her fatigue was beginning to wear off.

 

He blinked once when he realized Fuu did not go straight to the house but instead strayed to the side towards a field of grass right next to it. Sensing his curiosity, the girl turned around to face him with a bright smile on her face.

 

“Over here. I'm going to be out here for just a little bit,” Fuu said softly, pointing at the field. “If you're tired, you can go ahead and get some rest.”

 

The samurai raised an eyebrow. Rest? For him? This was coming from the girl who nearly fainted in the middle of the restaurant floor today because she was a workaholic. He certainly wasn't going to take a rest if Fuu of all people didn't need one yet.

 

He merely shook his head and followed after her as she went to a comfortable spot before lying down on her back facing the starlit sky. Jin didn't miss the hint of mischief on her lips. He mentally scowled. The coy little thing lured him out here with her. As he sat down beside her prone form still staring with childlike wonder up at the stars, he supposed he didn't mind terribly too much.

 

The night air was cool and pleasant against them anyway.

 

It wasn't until a few moments passed that the samurai began to wonder…what it was exactly that they were doing out here.

 

“…Fuu?”

 

“That one,” she started suddenly, her voice eager. “That one right there, can you see it?” Jin stared after her in confusion as she pointed at a spot into the sky. “It's the brightest star, you HAVE to see it!”

 

With a bit of reluctance, the samurai slowly peered up at the very object the girl seemed so excited about. And indeed he did see it. It was sparkling like a single diamond in the vast sea of stars in the darkened sky. None other could compare to its' radiance.

 

“Let's wish on it!” Fuu exclaimed.

 

“…Why?”

 

“Because it's a wishing star, duh,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Jin gave her a scrutinizing look at this.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

A long pause followed. Fuu's lips pursed and her brows creased in thought. “I don't,” her soft voice replied. “I'm only guessing that it's a wishing star. And if it isn't…well, I can always guess on another one next time. I've been wishing on a different star every night for a while now. I'll have to guess right eventually.”

 

Jin listened intently before leaning back on his hands to look at the star in question. “That's pointless. Stars can't grant wishes,” he answered, his voice emotionless. The entire notion to him was quite childish really, and he couldn't see the benefit in believing in such things. Beside him, Fuu sighed.

 

“I know, but it's nice to dream once in a while,” she whispered, a weak, bitter smile gracing her features. “It's all I have left.”

 

That last part was so quiet that it was nearly inaudible. Jin wasn't sure what he had just heard. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” waved the entire thing aside and sat up. “It's time to make our wish!” She said enthusiastically. Closing her eyes, she contemplated what she wanted to ask the wishing star for, before breathing in so deeply that her chest puffed out. Then, at the top of her lungs, she shouted: “I WISH FOR ALL THE MOCHI I CAN EAT!”

 

The night was silent all around them for a second. Then…Jin couldn't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. “That's your wish?” he asked indignantly. She smirked back at him.

 

“Yup!”

 

How…How very Fuu. Somehow it didn't surprise him in the least that she would wish for more food. “Does it even work if you say it aloud?” Much less shouted, he added in his thoughts. Fuu shrugged slightly.

 

“How will they know what you want if you don't tell them? I think it's good to dream loud.” She edged a little closer to him, just enough to make him feel uncomfortable. “Now it's your turn! What do you wish for, Jin?”

 

The samurai turned away from her hazel gaze to focus on the flickering star above. “I have nothing to wish for,” he admitted truthfully. Not only did he not believe in silly superstitions like a wishing star, but he also had nothing he truly desired.

 

“That can't be true,” Fuu countered. “There must be something that even you want.”

 

“Why are you so persistent on this matter?” he began, peering at her through glass lenses.

 

“Well, I've always wondered what the mysterious Jin wanted more than anything in the world,” she joked lightly, yet he could tell she genuinely wanted to know.

 

What he wanted? Besides sleep? Nothing that he could accomplish on his own, Jin thought. Or…maybe it was because he didn't know what he wanted that he couldn't make his wish. His lips thinned. This was beginning to trouble him more than he liked, and it really was over something silly. The samurai shook his head.

 

“No, there is nothing.”

 

A loud exasperated sigh resounded in the night air. “You're no fun.”

 

And that was that. He got up first and helped her to her feet before both proceeded into the house. Fuu content with dreaming her dreams and Jin content with just letting her dream them.

 

 

+++

 

 

He lay awake in the morning light, dark eyes scanning the ceiling with intense focus. Outside, he could hear the birds chirping and fluttering by. Running his fingers through long black silken hair, Jin decided it was time to get out of bed. He took his glasses and secured them in place before reaching for his indigo blue hoari.

 

As he dressed in silence, the samurai could only think of one thought, and that was saying goodbye to Fuu. It was time that he resumed his journey to retrieve Shino, and he had long overstayed his welcome. If he remained with Fuu for another day, well, he might find himself getting attached. To the place, he meant.

 

After tying his hair in the usual ponytail and stepping out of his room, Jin pondered whether or not just to leave her a note before departing, or properly say his good-byes to her. He decided that as a close friend to the girl, he'd go with the latter.

 

It was very early in the morning, and he figured that Fuu was still asleep and didn't fancy the idea of waking her. Still, he really wanted to tell her in person that he was leaving and sought out her room. Strange, in the time that he had been here he hadn't bothered to remember where it was that Fuu said was her room. He began opening the doors one by one, knocking just in case one of them happened to be hers.

 

Some of them were empty, while one still had old furniture and a large futon—one that he assumed belonged to the old couple that used to live there. Then, he happened upon one shoji door. It wasn't special or strikingly unique in the least and yet something inside drew the samurai to it.

 

Jin knocked once, calling Fuu's name. When there was no answer, he opened it slowly. What he found was something he had never quite seen before.

 

Cranes. Paper cranes. Hundreds of them, hanging from the ceilings and littered on the floor amongst colored paper and scraps. Some hung by the door leading to the porch, swaying in the wind as if they were really birds fluttering in the air. They all varied in size and color of every sort, and Jin had to enter carefully for fear of stepping on any paper or cranes on the ground.

 

The samurai let his eyes wander the room for a few lingering moments, amazed at how many there were and vaguely wondering just exactly how much had been made.

 

“Four hundred and twenty-seven,” a soft feminine voice said behind him. Jin turned around to face Fuu, who was standing in the doorway. Her dark brown hair was down and she wore a small smile on her innocent features. “There are exactly four hundred and twenty-seven paper cranes here.”

 

He nodded at her in greeting, still amazed at the origami in the room. “Did you make all of them?” he asked in awe as he picked up a crane from the floor.

“Most of them,” she answered, stepping inside to stand beside him. “The first twenty or so was given to me by the village children.”

 

“Children?”

 

“Yeah. It's a small town, and I like to play with the kids sometimes when they come up to explore the fields by my house,” Fuu explained. “They made me the first couple of dozen paper cranes.” She smiled almost wistfully; “They told me that if I made a thousand of them, I'd have good luck and health for the rest of my life.”

 

Ah, yet another one of Fuu's wishing habits. It was endearing, really it was. Yet, there was something sad about the way she stared at the paper crane that Jin held in his hands. Something tangibly regretful when she took it from him to play within her dainty fingers.

 

“But I stopped making them a long time ago,” Fuu whispered before dropping it onto the floor, forgotten. He was quite astonished. Fuu? Give up? The girl was well known for being relentless when she set her mind to something. He wondered what made her give up—even if it was something as trivial as a thousand paper cranes.

 

“Why?” Jin asked gently. Fuu shifted uneasily, not taking her eyes off of her feet.

 

“The paper cuts were murder,” Fuu joked weakly. It was a lie. Jin knew it was a lie. But she clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he respected her decision. She just wanted to stop at four hundred and twenty-seven and that was that.

 

Her hazel eyes began to study him in the morning light, and her expression grew sad. “You're leaving today, huh?”

 

“…Yes,” Jin replied, not meeting her gaze.

 

“I understand. It was sure nice while it lasted though!” Fuu said cheerfully. Jin wanted to smile at her. He didn't know why he did not. “Let me make something for you for your journey and then we'll say goodbye, ne?”

 

She began to head to the door, her eyes hidden from view. Jin could feel something catch in his throat. `I hate saying good-byes too, Fuu,' he wanted to say to her, but all he could do was watch her back.

 

All of a sudden, The girl stopped midway through the threshold when she clutched her chest and gasped sharply. Jin's senses came to full alert when Fuu doubled back, and her breathing became labored. Her form was hunched, still clutching her white yukata-clad chest, as if trying to wrench something out of her very heart. Without warning, she collapsed onto the ground, sending a flurry of colored paper into the air.

 

“Fuu!” Jin rushed to her in an instant, cradling her body against him. A rush of panic pulsed throughout his entire being like never before. She was sweating, her face flushed with heat and teeth clenched as if she were in great pain. She groaned loudly as her breathing now became erratic and if she didn't loosen her grip on her chest soon, the samurai was certain she really would rip out her own heart.

 

“Fuu! Fuu! What's wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” He shook her slightly, his usually calm and cool exterior melting as his eyes flickered with concern.

 

“I'll be fine,” she managed to say through gritted teeth. “Really, it's just—Ah!” She moaned painfully, her other hand grasping his blue hoari.

 

“Fuu! The doctor--”

 

“Don't worry, it'll pass…”

 

“We need to get you to the doctor—“

 

“It's not going to help, Jin,” Fuu panted, holding on tighter to his hoari.

 

“What are you saying? We need to find out what's wrong with you!” The samurai said quickly, ready to pick her up and run to the nearest apothecary if he had to. Fuu seemed to freeze in his arms, momentarily forgetting her pain as a realization dawned upon her. She stared wide-eyed up at Jin, hazel depths conveying shock and sorrow.

 

“…You don't know, do you?” She asked him, trying hard not to wince at the gradually passing pain that shot through her body.

 

“Know? Know what?” Jin was confused now. Why was she being so calm about this?

 

“Oh Jin…” She shook her head, looking as if she were about to cry. “I'm so sorry, I thought Mugen told you already…”

 

Mugen? What was he supposed to have told him? Why was Fuu like this? The samurai seemed to lose the ability to form words as the girl in his arms slowly released his hoari and brought her small hand to touch his cheek gently. The pain seemed to have left her body, but not her eyes. As she brought him closer to her, a bitterly sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The words fell from her lips in a mournful whisper:

 

“…I'm dying, Jin.”

 

 

+++

 

 

The entire house was completely still and silent that afternoon. In the hallway, a lone samurai sat on the hardwood floor just outside a shoji screen, where a girl now slept peacefully on the other side.

 

Jin stared blankly at the opposite side of the wall, his familiar stoic mask on. In his mind however, thoughts and voices whispered hauntingly in his mind. Hundreds, clawing at him all at once.

 

It was all beginning to make sense now. How could he not have noticed it before? Her collapses at work, the roomful of paper cranes and her noticeable pale skin. Even when he had first bumped into her at the marketplace he should have known. Jin's thoughts plowed through his memories as he remembered picking up a bottle of herbal medicine that had been knocked out of her shopping basket for her. Jin mentally cursed himself for his lack of attention and observation.

 

Dying. She was dying.

 

The little slip of a girl he remembered first laying eyes upon in the teahouse that stared at him in wonder with innocent hazel eyes. The very one who cheated two skilled swordsmen from death and commanded them under her tiny iron fist. A mere child that sought her own destiny, denied her own past and fate, and looked for a better tomorrow. The only person that had saved him more times than he had ever saved her…just by smiling.

 

And she was dying.

 

Mugen. He had known all along about Fuu's condition. Why didn't he tell him? Why hadn't Mugen stayed with Fuu and supported her? More to the point, why didn't Fuu say anything? Did she not see how serious this was? Did Fuu even care if she lived or not? The girl didn't even want to go to the doctor…

 

If he had known that she was so terribly ill, he wouldn't have wasted all this time wandering or being a mercenary, taking up pointless jobs for idle money. He would have been here, with Fuu. Doing…well, the samurai wasn't sure what he could have done to help, but he would have done something—anything to help her. And she's been alone…this entire time.

 

The samurai felt in a way, as if he had let Fuu down. Even though their journey ended and his duty as her bodyguard had long since been severed, he had always silently vowed to be there for her if she ever needed them again. He was sure Mugen felt the same way. He reasoned with himself, however, that he couldn't have known what happened to Fuu in the time that they had been apart. They had had not contact. No letters, no meetings, nothing. Still…for some reason he grew angered and guilty when he thought of the young woman suffering by herself. How serious was it that she had to be dying?

 

“Jin?” A soft voice called out from the other side of the shoji door. The samurai was immediately jerked awake from his brooding thoughts and turned over his shoulder to see a very distinct shadow right behind him. “Are you there?” the voice asked, and although it was a whisper, he could hear her very well.

 

He could tell she was sitting back to back with him on the other side of the shoji door. Jin let himself relax a little and closed his eyes. So, she was awake now.

 

“Yes Fuu, I'm here.”

 

A long awkward silence followed, and he could tell she was somewhat hesitant to speak to him.

 

“…Are you angry?” She timidly asked. Jin sighed softly. He'd be lying if he said he weren't, but he couldn't exactly blame Fuu for something that clearly wasn't her fault.

 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“I'm sorry,” She apologized once more. “Like I said before, I thought Mugen had already told you. You said that he talked about me when you last met, so I assumed that he also told you about my…well, you know.” Her voice grew quieter by the minute, as if she spoke any louder she'd break something.

 

“How long?” He asked; eyes still closed. Behind him on the other side of the door, Fuu tensed.

 

“One year,” she finally answered. “It's been a year since I found out about it.”

 

The samurai's dark eyes opened, only to narrow in deep thought. One year. One whole year in which Fuu had begun to wither away.

 

“Have you been to the doctor?”

 

“…Hai. And he's given me some medicine for it.”

 

“Does it help?” Jin turned his head slightly to look at the shadow against the screen that was Fuu. She shifted.

 

“A little,” she whispered. “…Sometimes.”

 

Jin frowned at this. “How bad is it?”

 

“It comes and goes,” Fuu replied. “What the doctor subscribed to me isn't the best there is, but it does help,” the girl reassured, trying to sound more cheerful about it. “Besides, it's all I can afford. There is better medicine to treat me with, but it's far too expensive for me to pay and I'm already working as much as I can to pay off for my current medical expenses.

 

“In any case, even if I could afford the best medicine they have, it's not like I'll be saved,” she added with noticeable helplessness.

 

“What do you mean?” Jin leaned in closer against the screen now, so that he could feel Fuu's body heat through the door. Again there was a long silence, as if she didn't want to say the truth. But it came out anyway. He deserved to know.

 

“The doctor said there isn't a cure for what I have. The most he can do is numb my pain or prolong the time that I get in between the attacks. Nothing more.”

 

Jin couldn't say another word. No cure. There wasn't a cure. She can barely afford her current herbal medicine. Dying. Fuu was dying. One whole year. All of the recent information that he had just received swirled in his mind all at once, and he was beginning to get a headache. He brought a finger up to rub his temple.

 

“…Are you sure there isn't…”

 

“Listen to me, Jin. When I was younger, my mom would always play with me and father everyday. But then, she stopped because she began getting these pains her chest every now and then and told us to go without her. She told me that it would get better soon, and that's she'd be playing with me again in no time.

 

“When father left however, it only seemed to get worse. Mom could barely hold a job because she collapsed so often from her attacks. It came to the point where she couldn't get out of bed at all, and there wasn't a cure for her either. She died when I was fourteen. That was when I started working in the teahouse.”

 

The samurai felt her stretch behind him, seeing the shadows of her arms reach towards the ceiling before dropping from the corner of his eyes.

 

“I think maybe it's genetic or something,” Fuu finished, leaning against the doorframe.

 

Jin's eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his hand over his chin and mouth in thought. His features reflected that of determination. “There must be a way…”

 

“There isn't anything else I can do,” Fuu insisted, trying to get through to him now. Her voice was surprisingly calm. “There isn't anything you can do, Jin.”

 

With that, he could no longer feel Fuu resting her back against him for she had stood up; her shadow against the shoji screen faded from sight. In that one moment, Jin realized something was laced in her words: resignation. Fuu had accepted her fate.

 

And that was the real reason why there were only four hundred and twenty-seven paper cranes.

 

 

+ End Chapter +

 

[A/N]

 

Some very important contexts worth mentioning and Japanese translations:

 

One Thousand Paper Cranes - It has been a long standing Japanese myth that if you make one thousand paper cranes, you will be granted a wish or have good luck and health for the rest of your life.

 

Fuu's illness - Heart Cancer. I don't know the full symptoms of this serious illness so please forgive me if I get some things wrong. Of course, doctors during this time did not even have a name for it let alone proper care.

 

Itadakimasu - “Thank you for the food,” in Japanese. It is polite custom for people to say this phrase before eating a meal.

 

Ohayo - “Good Morning.”

 

Mochi - A sweet pastry.

 

Yukata - A robe/kimono that is usually worn in the summer or used as sleeping garments at night.

 

Hoari - The upper gi shirt of a male's kimono.

 

Thank you for all of those who reviewed last time. I really appreciate each and every single one of them and hope that you'll all stay for the whole story.

 

Stick around for the next chapter, which will be posted soon!

 

Please READ AND REVIEW! Again, I ask for no flames especially from those who just plain hate the story for the pairing. Criticism welcome, of course.

 

Thank You and Ja Ne!