Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Wanderers ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2

“Fuu, I think that you should learn to defend yourself properly.”

Jin said this as they made agonizingly slow progress up the road to Nagasaki. Neither Jin nor Mugen were back to their full ability, and so they could not travel as quickly as they both wanted to. Mugen thought Fuu probably didn't mind the slower pace, since she'd always wanted to take breaks before. However, as they traveled, Mugen felt the three of them pulling in opposite directions. He cast sidelong glances in Jin's direction and saw the same closed, pinched expression, but there was urgency in his steps and in his tone whenever he spoke. They both felt it, whatever it was.

Fuu looked up from watching her feet as they walked. “But that's why I have you two, right?” They let that hang in the air for a few seconds before she realized what Jin had meant. “Oh. I- I mean not that you two are worth much anyway. I lose track of you for three seconds and you're stealing food or buying women... or nearly dying in stupid fights that I can't do anything to prevent.” She gave a nervous laugh. “On second thought, you're probably right, Jin. I should know how to take care of myself in case you losers are off breaking the law somewhere.” A lot went unsaid there even though she was rambling.

“Hn.”

There were many reasons that Mugen could think of to hurry to Nagasaki. When they reached their destination, the contract was over and he could get on with his life. He wouldn't have to see either of these freaks again, wouldn't have to feel Jin's eyes on the back of his neck, wouldn't have to hear Fuu's shrill childish voice, or her childish insults. That was the first and most obvious reason. Then, if he felt like it, he could finally cross blades with Jin. It'd been a long time coming. Sometimes it was all he could think about when they were walking for hours and hours with nothing to eat. The prospect of their fight had woken him up many a night with a raging hard-on. If she knew, Fuu would turn up her nose and tell him to sort out his priorities.

He thought they were well in order.

Nagasaki was a port city, and that meant he could find a boat real easy. He was itching to get out on the water again, either heading up his own operation or working for someone else until he got it together enough to take over, or steal his own ship. He had options in Nagasaki.

“It is generally not proper for a woman to learn bushido, but in this case, I think the situation calls for it.”

Mugen snorted. “Ah, come off it, fish-face. You just don't like the idea of a broad kickin' your ass. Sara must have really rubbed you the wrong way.”

Jin did not turn to face him, but took a slow calming breath. “The martial arts are for violence. Even defensive techniques are designed to incapacitate the attacker. Women should not have to be made for violence.”

Fuu smiled sweetly at Jin and then stuck her tongue out at Mugen. Mugen almost gagged. “Jin, you can't tell me Sara wasn't hot. She didn't move like any woman I ever met. And that chick, Yatsuha?” He growled and remembered the feel of her muscular legs wrapped around him. He also remembered the number of knots she'd put on his head, and that she never did put out for him, but fighting off those counter-fitting guys with her had almost been payment enough. He turned to leer at Fuu. “I dig it when a girl can take care of herself like that. Makes me think she's flexible.”

Fuu scowled at him, and reaching into her kimono, pulled out her lacquered tanto. Mugen began to doubt that she needed much training from Jin when, before he could get out of the way, she'd cracked him over the head with it.

They all had options in Nagasaki. And the sooner they got there, the sooner Fuu could see her deadbeat dad, punch him in the nose, and move on. When she got her family's bad blood out of her system, and saw that her dad had probably left for a reason, she'd be fine, especially if she and the ronin stuck together. And it was looking more and more like that was going to happen - not that he was looking or anything. Mugen was the first to admit that he knew jack shit about courtship. He knew even less about women's emotions, but he recognized the signs. He could almost smell the hormones. Fuu was quiet when she looked at Jin. She was never quiet when she looked at him. She bitched about his clothes and his hair and his smell and his breath and on and on and on. When he came upon Jin and Fuu together, they were quiet. When they spoke, they did it quietly. He saw them once - Fuu sitting on a rock with her legs drawn up, Jin standing beside her. They were turned toward each other and Mugen swore he'd seen a painting of that once. It was beautiful and he wanted to shred it to pieces and piss on what was left.

The sooner they got to Nagasaki, the sooner Fuu would be safe, the sooner he could hit the road and be rid of all this shit.

But they were pulling in opposite directions. Mugen knew that Jin wanted to get Fuu to safety as quickly as possible. They were on the same page about that. But she was dragging her feet, looking over her shoulder, pulling them back. Fuu did not want to get to Nagasaki. When they camped, she kept them up into the night, talking to them, sticking her fingers in their pasts, wanting to know about them, their families, their lives. When Mugen blew her off because he didn't want to talk about the hell that was the Ryukyus, she spoke with Jin in that hushed, close voice that was never directed at him.

“Dude, you're really gonna teach Fuu all that stick-up-your-ass, screwed-up, honor, duty, justice bullshit?”

“You mean bushido?” Jin said, voice dry as ever.

“Yeah, that.”

“Sure he is!” Fuu said proudly. “He's going to teach me how to kick your ass so hard you'll never make a pass at me again!”

“As if I would, ita!”

“You just did a minute ago! And don't call me a plank! I told you, I've got plenty under this kimono. Clothing just makes me look slender.”

“Actually-” Jin started.

“Bull. Shit.” Mugen growled, bending over to look down the front of her clothes. He leaned back, laughing when her elbow shot up towards his nose. He didn't know why he wasn't ready to divulge that he actually had seen her chest. He guessed he liked having that secret.

“Actually-”

“Jeez, why do you have to be such a creep, Mugen? We're almost to Nagasaki and you're still behaving like a horny teenager. I mean, really- wait a minute, how old are you, anyway?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Probly about his age,” he muttered, pointing a bony finger at Jin, who was still trying to start a sentence.

“Actually-”

“What!” they both finally shouted. Mugen felt like both of his companions were trying to drive him to homicide.

Jin looked smug - maybe. It was hard to tell. “Actually, bushido is a way of life that can not be taught over the span of a few days. It is a code to be lived by, and I seek only to show Fuu a narrow fraction of what it entails, primarily taijutsu.”

Fuu's lower lip stuck out. “Hey, I thought you were going to-” Mugen rolled his eyes.

“The only techniques that will be of use to you, Fuu, will be those which allow you to incapacitate someone considerably larger than you. You will need to learn how to use weight and size to your advantage, to use momentum and points of pressure. These will be defensive tools to buy yourself time to escape from whomever is pursuing you.”

Mugen picked up his pace and quickly got out of earshot, not wanting to hear anymore. Blind panic burbled up inside him at the thought of who might find her when they weren't around, when they could not help her - when they'd already been killed. Jin was right; she did need a way to buy herself time. That was the problem, though, and that was why Mugen learned very young to rely only on himself and his blade. Buying time was all well and good until you ran out. And if someone wanted her dead badly enough, there was nothing either of them could do to stop it, beyond getting killed protecting her. And then where would she be?

***

Fuu and Jin started training the next day in a field off the road. Mugen stayed to watch for all of five minutes before he rolled silently to his feet and left them alone. He walked until he was sure they were out of sight and earshot and, leaning back, he cursed long and loud up at the sky. His voice went up and up and disappeared. A few birds displaced from a scraggly bush and a tickle in his throat were the only evidence that he'd made any sound at all. He drew his sword in one jagged, angry motion, slicing the air and a few blades of grass. Without further pause he slid into his kata, his body spinning, dodging and ducking through a sequence that even he was not consciously aware of. He flipped forward onto his hands, long legs scything through the humid air. He went onto one hand, his blade whistling by his ear as he regained his feet. The sword glinted in the morning light as it swung and whirled in front and behind him. It left his fingers, spinning upward and then falling in a tight arc. He snatched it from the air before it could touch the ground, sliding into a wild set of kicks both low and high. He leaned back, spine bending into an arch, and kicked his feet over his head, landing in a crouch. Then he sprang up into the air and started over again. If anyone passed along the road, he didn't notice.

If anyone passed along the road, they would not have seen a young man practicing a routine drilled into him by years spent at a dojo. They would have seen a crazed warrior, fighting without logic or thought, but with terrifying and intense skill. There was no discernible pattern, and there was no enemy.

Mugen tried to rid himself of the images that seemed burned into his eyeballs. He didn't want them, but they would not leave him alone. He saw Jin holding Fuu tightly against him, her back against his front, an arm around her neck, gripping her jaw. He was teaching her how to free herself by using leverage and just the right amount of force to flip him onto the ground. He saw their bodies fitted together, bent forward, her thin fingers clutching his arm. He saw her kimono pulled tight, revealing the small curves of her breasts and hips. Her kimono had ridden up a bit, exposing pale slim legs. Jin kicked her legs further apart to illustrate the proper stance and they both blushed. Mugen could see more of Jin's arms than usual, his sleeves tied up in the cord that crossed his back. He could see the shape of Jin's shoulders and chest when he moved. The shape of his narrow waist and hips was revealed when he bent with her, pushing her forward.He watched them moving together - even clumsily in Fuu's case - and he saw more of them than he ever had when they walked together, or slept together around the fire. He saw their bodies and he wanted...

He didn't have a fucking clue what he wanted; he just wanted. He itched and ached and felt wrong in his own skin. So he left to fix it.

Solutions for Mugen came in one of four forms: food, booze, sex, or violence. If he could get all four in one night, he could sleep like a baby and not give a shit whether he woke up or not. But, he had no food, no booze, and no woman on hand. He didn't even really have anyone to fight. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere at the moment. So he closed his eyes to slits and fought Jin in his head. He knew the man's fighting style almost as well as his own after all these months. He fought Jin for touching Fuu the way he did, for touching her like he knew her, like they knew each other. Touch for Mugen was all about quickness and dominance. Kill quick; fuck quick and own both.

He fought Jin while Fuu watched, but she wasn't shrieking at them to cut it out, and she wasn't reminding them of their promise to her. She was sitting under a tree and watching them, with her legs drawn up under her. She was quiet and still.

He faltered in the middle of his seemingly random kata, eyes opening as his image of her flickered and faded. That was not Fuu - or if it was, she was Jin's Fuu, and he wanted nothing to do with her. He didn't want Jin's version of anything. He craved Jin's full attention when they fought. He wanted all of it, not studied indifference or judgmental eyes on the back of his neck. And Fuu, underneath the tree, watching them, would not be silent and still. She'd be shouting her head off for him, her skinny bird arms pumping the air. She'd jump up and down and hoot and laugh for him, because she was just a kid and she could be funny as hell when she wasn't trying to be someone older and more sophisticated, when she wasn't trying to be a wife for a samurai.

And after the fight- After-

His imagination abandoned him then, both Jin and Fuu disappearing from behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes, finding himself on all fours, sword stuck deep in the soft ground in front of him. He didn't have a fucking clue what would happen after the fight. He rolled onto his back and groaned, wrapping an arm around his middle. His mostly healed wounds pulled painfully. He fingered the bandages under his shirt, but found no wet spots.

He ticked off his list of remedies on one hand. Violence - check. Food or booze - no dice. Sex - well, he had full use of both hands, didn't he? He closed his eyes and slid a slightly sweating palm into his cut-off hakama.

It didn't take long. When he touched himself, they were back, the two of them, twisted over and around each other. Jin had her on the ground, covering her, teaching her to throw him off. He saw the strength in Jin's arms, holding himself steady over her. Her mouth was open as she looked up at him, nodding slightly as he spoke to her. They were up against a tree; he had his hands around her throat, showing her how, with the right angle, arm over her head, she could turn her shoulders and break the hold, and maybe her attacker's wrist if she applied the right amount of force. Finally, Jin, winded, flat on his back, Fuu standing triumphantly over him, hands on her hips. And, what the hell - this was his imagination - so she was stripped down to the waist and her chest bindings were coming undone.

He grunted, hips rising off the ground, shoulders curling forward.

When his muscles finally relaxed, his head thumped back against the ground and he let a out a loud breath. He wiped his hand in the grass next to him, and then made a cursory effort to clean himself up a bit. He rolled onto his side and dropped off to sleep almost instantly. Two out of four wasn't bad.

***

“There you are! Jeez, we didn't know where you went! We've been looking for you for the last half hour. I thought something really bad might have happened and here you are sleeping like a bum. Sheesh, some bodyguard you are.”

Her voice invaded his sleep and then her fingers jerking on the collar of his haori brought him the rest of the way out of his doze. He grumbled something that even he could not interpret and swatted her hand away.

“Ow! Hey, be careful; Jin's been beating me up for hours. I feel like I'm about to break into a million pieces. And what were you doing out here anyway; you're filthy. Did you get into a fight or something?” He got slowly to his feet and watched her scan the horizon. “I don't see anybody around; there aren't any bodies that I'm going to step on, are there?”

He turned to his left and saw Jin, hand on his katana, gaze darting around for some threat that wasn't there. Mugen caught his eye and shook his head, hand sliding sideways in the negative. Stand down, samurai. Jin relaxed a bit and came forward. Mugen looked up at the sun, judging that it was early afternoon. “You guys really been at it since this morning?” he asked, yawning hugely and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, my poor old bones can't take any more,” Fuu moaned, stretching her arms over her head. “I could really use a bath. Maybe there are some hot springs around here. I think if I tried to wash up in a stream, my muscles would never move again.”

“You're overstating the situation,” Jin murmured, turning back toward their camp. Fuu caught up with him and rested her arm against her forehead.

“Can't I get even a little sympathy, here? I was throwing your ass all over that field. My throwing muscles are tired.”

Jin's head turned just slightly to acknowledge her. Mugen thought he saw a faint smile. “You did well.”

And just like that, she went from bitching to glowing. His lip curled as he tugged his sword out of the ground and wiped the dirt from the blade.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” she called over her shoulder. “You're not allowed to wander off like that anymore. We need to stick close together if we're going to make it to Nagasaki.”

A warm breeze bent the grass into waves and tossed his hair around his head. He smelled the south on that breeze. But as his companions got further away, he felt a tug from right around his belly button, so he followed them north.