Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Wanderers ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Wayward Wanderers: Chapter 3

 

A combination of unease and curiosity won out in the end, and so when they split up to find lodgings, Mugen, instead of doing what he was supposed to - he was never the one to find a place for them to stay; why start now? - followed Fuu as she wandered through the village. Her squirrel-thing sat on her shoulder and occasionally she turned to speak to it. Mugen knew he was a little odd, as people went, but he didn't talk to rodents. He made a note to bring that up whenever Fuu accused him of... well any of the usual things she accused him of. He watched her walk up and down a few streets, speaking to vendors and tea-shop owners, usually emerging with a sour look on her face.

 

When he got tired of walking and watching, he found a nice secluded alley and took the opportunity. Coming up behind her, he slung one arm around her waist, and, wrapping the other around her neck, he bullied her down the small side street. She lost both her sandals and the squirrel-thing immediately took off, but he didn't have a spare hand to grab for it. She shouted her surprise and then he felt her lungs expand as she prepared to scream. In truth, that was probably as good a defense as any that Jin taught her, if she was in a populated area like this. But before she could do more than squeak, he slid his arm up from her throat and covered her mouth under his large palm. He got his back to a wall, braced his geta in the dirt and held on. She squirmed and writhed in his grasp. Her body wriggled up against his and he raised one eyebrow, thinking that her struggle felt pretty good.

 

But he should have known what she was doing. After another moment, she stopped trying to get away and went limp. He waited, and then felt teeth nibbling his skin. Then her tongue ran along the length of his palm. “Hey!” he shouted, jerking his hand away. Her heel jammed up between his legs in the next second and he threw her away from him to grab at his crotch. “Fuckin' hell, what was that?!” he shouted, wiping his free hand on his undershirt. She staggered away and then fell on her ass across the alley. She sat there scowling at him for a second before she scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth.

 

“That was me kicking you in the balls, ya big perv! I should ask what you were doing! You scared me; I thought you were going to drag me into this alley and kill me!”

 

“You thought I was gonna kill you?”

 

“I didn't know it was you at first, dummy! I figured it out. I know your smell anywhere.”

 

He growled; he didn't feel like dealing with her shit today. “Yeah, okay, girlie, I just wanted to see what fish boy taught you! You didn't have to try to-”

 

“So you haul me off to a quiet place and threaten me? And where are my shoes?” she asked, eyes darting around the alley.

 

“Quit bein' such a baby. He's teachin' you not to be helpless; why not show me that you're worth somethin'?” Mugen thought that if she had new skills she'd want to show them off. He would.

 

“You could have just asked, Mugen, if you wanted to see what Jin taught me, or maybe you could have stuck around when we trained and helped me. Then you wouldn't have to drag me into an alley and pretend you're gonna kill me. Jeez, what is wrong with you?”

 

He hated that question, especially when she asked it like that. It made him crazy every time. “You want to know what's wrong with me? Wanna see what's wrong me, you stupid bitch?” His voice rose louder than he intended. Sometimes everything she said to him just-

 

She flinched like she always did when he called her that. “Mugen-”

 

“I wanna see what he taught you, and you better show me, unless you-”

 

“Unless what?” she snapped. By this point in their journey they both knew what buttons to push; they knew how to shred each other to pieces without drawing a weapon. Her hurt was quickly turning to anger. “Are you gonna hurt me, not just make me feel bad about myself, not just hurt my feelings, but actually hurt me?”

 

He snarled at her in a language she didn't know.

 

She watched him, eyes narrowed, looking for all the world like a cornered wild animal. Mugen didn't know the length of her claws, but he was dying to find out. “Try it, Mugen.” Her chin jutted forward. “I dare you.”

 

He grinned at her and took a threatening step forward. Instantly, she looked like she regretted her words, sliding back against the wall.

 

“Are you all talk?” he asked.

 

She shook her head, no, and glanced toward the mouth of the alley. He sprang at her, watching her eyes go wide. Still on hands and knees, she scrambled to his right as he hit the wall. He shoved one hand in front to absorb the impact and propel him to the side. He reached down with the other and grabbed her ankle before she managed to slip away from. He gave it a firm jerk and brought her down, but she rolled onto her back and got in one solid kick to his jaw. He blocked the next. But he let go of her ankle. She crawled away, getting to her feet, and pulling her sheathed tanto out of her kimono. She turned to face him just as he sprang again, his mouth still twisted in a vicious grin. He could see her struggling with panic as she darted to the side again.

 

“Don't run away; fight me!” he shouted, altering his course to come at her again. She swallowed hard. He could see her throat working as she did what he said. She took one quick step to the side, grabbed hold of his hoari and brought up her knee, using his momentum to drive her knee harder into his gut. He grunted and then choked, surprised that he couldn't really draw a breath. He leaned out of the way of her tanto as she shoved it up, trying to catch him in the jaw. He kept his fists open, instead shoving her hard in the chest, getting in a good grope before she went staggering back. If she'd been wearing her stupid sandals she would have fallen off them and the fight would have been over. But her small feet slid through the dust and she regained her balance in time for her to see his next strike coming. This time she actually smirked as he made a grab for her, ducking at the last second as his arms closed on empty air. Her bony shoulder slammed into his hip and he lurched forward on top of her. She made a small noise of distress when bone connected with bone and he didn't roll off her back like he was supposed to. Still, it was a good try, he thought, as they tumbled down into the dust. She hauled herself out from under him, and she would have gotten away if he were just any thug after a purse full of money or a sweet piece of ass. He spun, quick as a cat and swept her legs out from under her. She went down hard, dropping her tanto.

 

“Mugen-”

 

“Now, I gotcha,” he muttered, pulling her closer by her legs, gripping her knees and then her thighs and then her waist as he pulled her under him. Her dark eyes held humiliated fury and her mouth was working- She was gonna spit at him! He grabbed her jaw and squeezed her cheeks together and sneered at her when saliva dripped out of her mouth, down her chin. She growled at him and fell back on an old trick, clocking him over the head with her pretty lacquered tanto. Somehow it always worked.

 

He snarled again and before he could stop himself, he backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side and she let out a sharp cry of surprise and pain. She curled into as much of a ball as she could with him crouching over her and stayed there. He tried to roll her over, to pull her arms away from where they protected her head, to straighten her legs, but she wouldn't move.

 

“Goddammit, Fuu, I-” He grabbed her shoulder one more time and then found himself being hauled away from her by his collar. His feet scrambled for purchase in the dirt, but whoever had him was strong and fast, because Fuu was rapidly shrinking to a puddle of pink in the shadows of the alley as he was dragged out into the sun. Then his eyes slid to the side and he caught a glimpse of green prayer beads around a bony wrist. “Fuckin'-a,” he muttered before he twisted out of his shirt and came to a skidding stop in the dust. He flipped to his feet just in time for Jin to throw his hoari in his face and come at him, sheathed katana raised. Well, at least Jin didn't plan on killing him - not with his sword anyway. Perched on the ronin's shoulder was the squirrel-thing. “Traitor,” Mugen gritted at it before he realized that now he was talking to rodents. The squirrel-thing leaped from Jin's shoulder and disappeared into the alley. Mugen's gaze jerked back up as a very hard sheath pressed against his windpipe and a very strong ronin glared at him up against the wall with murder in his black eyes.

 

In retrospect, “Get the fuck off me, piece a'shit samurai,” was not a good way to start the confrontation. But then, Mugen didn't go much for 'retrospect.' He just managed to twist to the side, avoiding a fist in his guts that probably would have made him bleed inside. The blow caught him in the ribs instead and he grunted. He'd never seen Jin fight with closed fists before. Knuckles against ribs probably hurt him more than it hurt Mugen. As he bent forward a bit, trying to catch his breath - a difficult task with a sword pressed against his throat - Jin's elbow shot up and caught him in the nose, cracking his head back against the wall. Pain exploded, bright and hot in his sinuses, pouring out of his nose.

 

“Who is the piece of shit, attacking Fuu with the intent to injure,” Jin gritted into his ear before releasing him and letting him slide down the wall.

 

Mugen spit out the blood running down the back of his throat. “I didn't hurt her. She's jus' bein' a baby.” He could have made an extensive list of the number of times he could have killed her, if he'd used his sword, if he'd used his tanto, or even if he'd only closed his fists. He could have made a list of every point at which she was vulnerable and unprepared to fight him. He could have gone back through their fight and pointed out where he'd been uncharacteristically careful. Instead he glared up at the ronin. They did not ever try to make explanations to each other. They didn't communicate that way.

 

Fuu emerged from the alley then, carrying her sandals and trying to fix her hair with the other hand. Jin backed away from Mugen and returned his katana to its place at his waist. Mugen watched him give Fuu a once-over. “Are you hurt?” he asked stiffly.

 

“She's fine,” Mugen muttered.

 

One small hand strayed to her mouth, covering the red mark in the corner. It'd leave a bruise probably. Mugen convinced himself without too much trouble that it was good for her to know what a little pain felt like. He licked blood from his upper lip and watched her approach. She looked shaken and a little unsteady on her feet, but the week Jin had spent teaching her had changed her. She took her hand away from her mouth and shook her head. “I'm fine. He didn't hurt me.” She looked down at him where he sat, blood running down his face and dripping onto the street. “He's a pig, but he wasn't trying to hurt me.” She smirked at him.

 

Briefly, Mugen felt like he had a friend or a younger sister - whatever she was, in that moment she was his partner in crime, keeping him out of even bigger trouble. He grinned up at her and then pursed his lips, offering her a crude, sarcastic kiss. She made a face and pretended to swat it away before it could touch her.

 

Using the wall for support, he got to his feet, wiped his bloody nose on his haori before sliding his arms back through the sleeves. Then he set off with his companions to find a place to sleep. They didn't split up again that day.

 

***

They couldn't afford more than one room, so they ignored the scandalized looks of the woman who showed them where they would stay, and sank gratefully to the floor to rest. Even though for the past week they'd been making slower progress, the reason they were held up was so Fuu could work with Jin; so at the end of the day, they were both tired.

 

Mugen could sleep just about anywhere, and this place was no exception.

 

He did not often dream, and when he did, they weren't particularly bloody, as some might expect. Mugen did not regret any of his actions; he did not regret his past. He was just glad to escape it. So, he did not dream of blood or death or murder or betrayal or loneliness, even though he'd seen, experienced and/or been responsible for all of them at some point in his life. Mugen's dreams were usually either absurd - yeah, Jin in a tub with his dick hanging out? - or a strange mix of restlessness, frustration, and helplessness. Even though he lived his life by which direction the wind blew, he needed to be in control at all times. His life was of his own making and he needed to keep it that way. He needed to. Many of his dreams, then, were about losing that control, about being at another's mercy. They were never coherent stories and they didn't ever end decisively, but they always jerked him awake and left his limbs heavy and humming, like they'd been restrained and had lost all feeling.

 

This dream was like those in many ways - blurry, yet bright. The colors in his dreams were always rich and vibrant, even though he could never see enough to make out details. The dream was also shuddering by at a strange speed. Things were happening that he couldn't make out or focus on long enough. They were there and gone too quickly. And like many of his dreams, he couldn't run. He could try - he did try - but he could never do more than limp or claw his way along, trying to gain momentum and speed, and failing. His voice was muffled, his tongue thick in his mouth as he tried to shout and curse at whoever was doing this to him.

 

Someone was chasing him. That was different. He should not have been afraid in this dream, because he could just turn around and kill whoever was after him. He was not afraid of people chasing him. And yet...

 

Rich brown and red rushed up to meet him, and he realized it was the ground and his blood. He wasn't in pain but he was bleeding everywhere. Bits of gray and shards of wood were pieces of a building, rubble, all around him. A flash of light over his head was bright day coming through a jagged broken window. And there was pink somewhere up ahead of him, shaking and shuddering and like him, unable to run. He heard muffled shouts and screams of fear and pain. They were coming from her. And the last of them, the blue one, who was he? - he was not there and he was not coming. Then he saw something silver and blindingly bright flash in front of him and thud into the ground. He heard a distant clinking of chain and laughter and the bright pink spot screamed again. He saw a shadow cast in front of him, long and thin, holding something. The silver thing - it was a blade, he realized - was a strange shape and it was slicing back towards him and-

 

He awoke paralyzed, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, body heavy and helpless. He managed to turn his head to the side and saw Jin staring at him, short-sword frozen in his grasp, polishing cloth half-way down the blade. It was night, though he didn't think it was too late. He turned the other way and saw an empty space where Fuu had been.

 

“Where is she?” he croaked.

 

“Bath house,” was the flat response.

 

“How long has she been gone?”

 

“About ten minutes. Would you like me to go check on her?” he asked, sarcasm just barely detectable.

 

“Fuck off.” He closed his fingers and found that his limbs were responding again; the humming was going away. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heal of his hand. Then he looked up to see Jin still looking him over. “Yo, that shit you're teachin' her?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“It ain't gonna make a damn bit a'difference.”

 

He sat still and silent for a moment and then looked down at his blade. “Hn.”

 

Mugen scrubbed his hand through his hair, restless, frustrated, helpless. “No, not just 'hn.' It will not be good enough,” he enunciated.

 

They sat in silence for a moment, the muted sound of a rattling chain echoing in his mind.

 

“What did you see in your dream, Mugen?”

 

Jin so rarely said his name that he looked up when he answered. “Saw how it ends,” he said, voice still rough with sleep and fear. He ran his palm along the floor in front him, where the blade had stuck. He traced the outline of the figure behind him, holding something - a staff he realized as his finger slid down in a straight line. His waking mind instantly knew what he'd seen: scythe on a chain. He looked back up. “And you weren't there.”

 

Jin stiffened. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you weren't there. ...And you weren't comin'. It was just us and this guy,” he said, pointing at the floor as though Jin could see an outline.

 

“I see,” he murmured, setting his short-sword on his mat.

 

Mugen shivered, not liking the resigned tone in Jin's voice. “Hey, man,” he said, looking at his hands. “It was just a dream. Most of my dreams are bullshit. I mean remember that one where you were in the tub with your-”

 

“Yes. Please do not speak of it.”

 

“And anyway,” Mugen continued. “Maybe the reason you weren't there was 'cause I'd already beaten your ass in our fight.”

 

“Was this dream different than your other dreams?” he asked as though Mugen hadn't spoken.

 

He didn't want it to be. He wanted to say, no, it was just as fucked up as the rest, absurd, meaningless. Don't worry about it.

 

“Some of it was the same, but the end was... not. Feels like it's already happened.”

 

“Don't tell Fuu about it. She'll only worry more. She already feels tremendous guilt for putting us in the danger she's in.”

 

“Fuck that shit,” he grumbled. “I put myself in the danger I'm in. You're not squeaky clean either, pal. And anyway, how do you know she feels guilty?”

 

He saw Jin come closer to rolling his eyes than he ever had. “She told me. Sometimes, she talks to me, Mugen, and she reveals interesting things about herself. I don't have to attack her in order to be closer to her.”

 

The enormity of what Jin had just insinuated hung for a moment between them. Mugen found himself utterly unable to reply.

 

Finally, when he could swallow everything that had gone unsaid in that statement, he managed to scrape together, “Coulda fooled me. S'what you and her do all morning. Doesn't get much closer than that.”

 

Jin actually flushed. Mugen could see it in the dim room. Not bad for a last ditch attempt to deflect Jin's sideways questioning. “That's not why I-”

 

“Oh, sure it's not,” he retorted, feeling his confidence trickling back in. “You get her on her back and up against a tree for her own health, for kiddie self-defense class. Please, I've seen you two-”

 

He grinned as Jin lunged for him, rolling backward into the attack, ready to throw the ronin off him if he tried anything serious. But Jin stopped short as soon as Mugen's back hit the floor, looking surprised that he'd go down so easily. He held himself poised for a strike and Mugen's eyes trailed hungrily along his bowstring-tight frame. He had the ronin's full attention now. He had all of it. He wondered what he could do with it, now that he had it.

 

Jin's voice was cold and careful when he spoke. “Do not make inappropriate assumptions about Fuu and myself. Fuu speaks to me because she has no one else to talk to. She speaks often of you.”

 

“Oh yeah?” He twitched an eyebrow upward.

 

Jin abruptly backed up onto his knees and then returned to his side of the room, putting a quick end to their dangerous 'conversation.' Mugen stayed where he was, staring up at the ceiling., trying very hard not to think. As he began to doze off again, he heard Fuu's soft footsteps drawing closer to their room. Before she arrived, Jin spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“You may be a sorry excuse for a fighter, but you would never try to kill me before Fuu was safe.”

 

“No,” he answered honestly.

 

“I would take your dream seriously and plan accordingly.”