Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Wanderers ❯ Chapter 5

Wayward Wanderers Chapter 5

 

He was ready to let the bird men take him away with them this time. He was very very tired, and he'd run into them enough by this point that he was actually starting to get curious where they were going to take him. Mugen had always been a curious kid; sometimes it got him in big trouble.

 

He had nothing but foggy images of what had come Before. They were the only things that kept him on this rock. He couldn't match names with faces, couldn't associate faces with other faces. He saw two people, a man in blue and a girl in pink. They had the most meaning for him, and the only indication of this was a dull ache in his chest because he would not see them where he was going. He felt no other pain. He felt nothing else.

 

He heard her voice and came crashing back to earth, body shattering into a thousand different locations for pain. For a few seconds, what felt like an eternity, he wanted to close his eyes and fall back up into the sky with the crows that were leaving him behind.

 

Then he remembered the only guiding philosophy he had, one that he'd forgotten for those few seconds: he wanted to live, and he would do whatever he had to, to make sure that he would keep living. That included sitting up, getting his blood moving and his voice working. He inhaled and started to talk with her where she sat beside him, crying her eyes out. For the first time in their friendship, they spoke quietly and without malice. He forced himself to focus on something, so he watched the way she moved more than he listened to what she said. As she helped him up, she moved stiffly, in small careful increments. Her sobs looked painful. She didn't turn easily and she favored her right leg. Probably had a few cracked ribs at the very least. He wasn't the type to swear vengeance for a wrong done to a friend, but even if he were, it was pointless now. He'd taken care of it before he even knew the extent of her injuries.

 

When he saw Jin, pale as death, regarding him with solemn black eyes, he was confused. Were they all dead? Were they waiting to go to their next lives together? Mugen supposed that would be his luck. Jin sure as hell looked like he should be dead, and Mugen figured the same applied to him. Jin was bleeding everywhere, from a slice in his side the length of a rib and from a hole in his abdomen that he held with his ruined kimono. Mugen looked back down at himself, at the hole in his abdomen and the slice in his side that was... actually about the length of a rib. He turned to Fuu to make sure she didn't have similar wounds, but she looked okay, face bruised and swollen, puffy eyes watching them both.

 

He looked back at Jin, saw his hair blowing wild and long in the wind, saw pale perfect muscle where his clothing had been sliced away.

 

“Your hair looks pretty gay,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

 

“What's that?” Jin asked, voice barely audible.

 

Mugen gave himself a good mental shake, knowing that this might be the last chance he had to do what he'd been thinking about for the past months. “I said, 'you and I have business to finish.'”

 

The sounds of their blades breaking was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard. He started to laugh and passed out before his knees hit the ground.

 

***

“Mugen, will you just hold still? This'll only take a second and then everything will be settled.”

 

He struggled against the heaviness in his limbs, against paralysis. It was useless, though - he wasn't going anywhere. He looked up when he heard his blade scraping through the dirt.

 

“Fuu, give me back my sword. You don't know how to use it.”

 

“Sure I do. I've watched you for months. I know what I'm doing.”

 

He groaned and flung the hair out of his eyes since he couldn't seem to lift his hand to do it. Fuu had obviously lost what little capacity she had for rational thought somewhere back in Edo. He tried again, making his case to the older, more reserved member of their group. “Jin, old buddy. Help me out here. Would you get my sword back for me? She doesn't know what she's doing.”

 

His traveling companions stood in front of him about ten paces away. Jin looked down at Fuu as she gave his sword a few practice swings. The blade was too big for her. When she swung it, the momentum carried her a few lurching steps to the side. Then she swung it the other direction and went stumbling back that way.

 

“See? She can't use that thing for shit!”

 

Jin looked down at her with a faint smile. “I would say she's doing well.” He looked back up at Mugen, in fact pinned him with his full attention. It's what Mugen craved; he felt like he needed it sometimes just to feel that someone still knew he was alive. Right then, it made him twitchy. “And, really, Mugen, this is the only way to settle things.”

 

“What things? What're we settling? Come on, guys, what the fuck?”

 

“We'll take care of it, Mugen,” Fuu said with what sounded like genuine concern. “Don't worry.”

 

She rested his sword against her hip and pulled a blindfold from her sleeve. Beside her Jin, did the same. Then they wrapped the cloth tightly across their eyes, tying them in the back. Instantly, the scene came into focus and Mugen realized what was happening.

 

“I get it; I get it,” he mumbled. “I've seen this before, back... before.” He couldn't remember when. “So, this is just a dream, one of the stupid ones that don't make any sense. Like the one with Jin in the tub with his-”

 

“Why do you insist on bringing that up every time you have a dream?” Jin asked, voice dry as the inside of Mugen's mouth.

 

“'Cause it's funny, and it just gets funnier the longer I know you,” Mugen said with a smirk. His smirk disappeared when Fuu picked up his sword and held it in a wobbly grip. Beside her, Jin drew his blade with his usual unshakable confidence. “So, uh...” He looked up. “Do I have fruit on my head that I can't see? Are we raisin' money for food or somethin' 'cause, seriously, I'll just go steal some grub if you guys don't feel like workin' for it.”

 

“Oh, hush,” Fuu scolded. “That won't settle anything. Stay still, okay?”

 

“Wait! Oh, fuck!” They were running straight at him and he couldn't move. They didn't look to be aiming for pieces of fruit on his head either. Fuu reached him first and he noticed through his panic that she wasn't moving like a gawky teenager who didn't know how to hold a sword. She moved like a small version of Jin and himself. She was Fuu, but she was all of them... somehow. He didn't figure on having time to ponder this. And Jin was the same: he was himself, but he was all of them. They moved like nothing he'd ever seen.

 

And then they cut him clean in half.

 

His breathing was harsh and loud when he opened his eyes to see that it was dark and there were bodies all around him. His right side itched and he twisted out of the way just as a shogunate soldier tried to hack his ribs apart. Mugen laughed and let his momentum spin him right back into his attacker, slicing open the man's insides. He fell with a gurgle, but Mugen was already ducking another's attack, dropping low and rolling onto his hands. He shoved his legs up in the air and heard a man's jaw crack. Then he came down onto his shoulder's, tucking his head and spinning like some wild thing that he knew none of these men had ever seen before. He flipped to his feet and then cursed when he saw himself surrounded again. A solid weight came up against his back and without turning, he knew it was Jin. The soft voice in his ear confirmed it. “They never quit.”

 

Mugen shook his head, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Hope they never do.”

 

“We need to get to the roof.”

 

“But it's more fun down here,” he protested, keeping Jin at his back as his sword flashed jagged and quick through two men charging at them.

 

“We're not dying here today.”

 

Mugen snorted a half-laugh, half-threat. “We won't. I won't let them touch you.” They separated, Mugen drawing his tanto and flinging himself forward, cutting a path to the buildings hemming in the courtyard. He felt certain in his struggle that he was wounded, that some of these men's strikes landed, but he couldn't feel any of them. Jin reappeared beside him, bracing his knee in the dirt and lacing his fingers together. Mugen skewered both men who would have stabbed his partner in the back and then stepped into the offered hand, launching himself onto the low-hanging roof. He turned once he had his feet under him and threw the tanto, taking the guard in the throat who had his blade aimed at Jin's neck. Jin turned and leaped, kicking off the man's falling body, snatching back the tanto at the last second before he spun in the air and reached for the roof. He came up a little short, but Mugen was waiting and he hauled him the rest of the way up. They took off running, leaving the swirling mass of soldiers clamoring up after them.

 

Mugen heard arrows whistling towards their backs, but he didn't bother to turn around. He heard Jin's blade slice them out of the air, heard them clattering useless on the roof, and he laughed. The edge of the city was just ahead. He could see the gates and the sheltering forest just on the other side. If they could make it there, they could disappear. He dropped from the roof and landed in a crouch, eyes darting side to side. Jin landed beside him, breathing sharp but regular. Mugen took off to the left, signaling that Jin should go right and they'd meet up outside where it was safe, but as he gestured, Jin caught his wrist and jerked him back, out of the path of a stray arrow. He stumbled and Jin tugged his arm again, pulling them into a sheltering overhang. They disappeared into the shadows as men ran past, shouting and cursing.

 

A brief flash of surprise shot through him when he found Jin flush against him, grinding him into the wall. But then it was gone and he returned to himself, to the moment, to the fact that his lover was shoving his thigh between his legs and fucking him with his clothes on. Every move they made, every place they touched each other, the feel of his neck arching back, scalp scraping against the rough wall, felt familiar and right. He forced his eyes open to see Jin, pinning him with his full attention. Mugen grinned as they watched each other from this intimate distance.

 

“I would never let them touch you,” Mugen hissed.

 

He palmed Jin's erection and his lover shuddered. “Sometimes I like to let them try, just so I can watch you,” he murmured before biting down on Mugen's throat.

 

It was fucking brilliant.

 

He didn't remember reaching the gates; he didn't remember the brief scuffle with the guards; he didn't remember falling asleep in the trees with Jin seated in the crook of a branch in front of him; he didn't remember at all when the forest disappeared.

 

He clamored on deck, stiff, hungry, and a little hungover. The deck was mostly empty, except for his second manning the wheel, and a small crew of men, hanging over the side. He heard hammering and sawing and knew without question that there were some repairs that needed doing from the fight the previous night. Lucky for them they'd been able to find a quiet island where they could patch themselves back up. A month at sea and they were running low on supplies. Hopefully, they'd be able to land somewhere soon to restock.

 

The other figure on deck was perched way up in the rigging, hanging upside down like monkey. “Yo,” he called. The small dark head, turned toward him. “Where's your mom?” The little body pulled itself upright and then took a frightening leap toward the deck. Mugen knew better than to worry. Tiny, twig-fingers grabbed hold of the rope ladders and bare toes practically ran along them, and a second later he had a child clamoring up his back like Mugen was the mast of her own boat. A small foot tried to use his shorts as a step and he almost lost them before reaching down to pull them back up and scratch himself in the process. Tiny hands anchored themselves in his hair and short legs settled over his shoulders. “Oi,” he tried again, poking the girl's knee with his thumb. “Where's your mom?”

 

“Down below, sewing up the crew from your stupid-ass, penis-measuring contest.”

 

Mugen grinned at the sound of her voice coming out of that little mouth and headed back below deck. He heard her before he saw her, and thought about turning around and going straight back to bed, but decided he should really check up on his crew. He ducked through the door, the girl on his shoulders sliding to the side to avoid being knocked off.

 

“Mom, I found him!”

 

“Good, tell him to get his lazy ass down here and help me with this mess! Jeez, I've been patching, sewing, resetting, reconstructing this crazy bunch of-” She looked up for the first time and scrubbed her hair out of her face, leaving a smudge of blood on her forehead. Now she set her hand on her hip and leveled a glare at him that would have wilted a palm tree if he hadn't been used to it. “Oh, there you are.”

 

“Mornin',” he drawled with a huge yawn that almost unsettled the person on his shoulders.

 

“I've been at this for hours; have you been asleep this whole time? Shin has a broken leg and some cracked ribs. Ukki needed stitches pretty much the whole way up his back. I had to put Tenzo's shoulder back where it was supposed to go, and the rest of them were just, well, they were drunk and falling all over each other and I....” She trailed off, gesturing with a skinny arm at the chaos that was their make-shift hospital. She didn't really look all that upset with the men slumped in hammocks and against the walls. Her eyes rested on him and she started in again. “And I don't even know if you're hurt; I haven't had a second to check you over.” He quirked an eyebrow and she blushed, but refused to be distracted. “I swear, you and your pirate fights. Let's see who has the better crew, the bigger guns, the bigger battering ram.”

 

“The bigger penis!” The girl on his head shouted. Fuu's mouth twisted in a failed attempt to keep from smiling. Several of the men snorted their laughter.

 

“Mei, I told you that in the strictest confidence.”

 

“Don't like strict,” the girl replied, squirming and sliding down Mugen's front to land with a thump. She turned and ran from the room with a wild whoop. Fuu watched her run off before turning her eyes back to Mugen, her usual question on her lips.

 

“Don't worry, Jiro's up there with her.”

 

Fuu nodded and then cast her eyes around the room like an empress surveying her subjects. She wiped her bloody hands on a rag and then nodded to herself. “I'm taking a break. Jeez, I'm beat.” She came out from behind her work table and strode past him without a glance. Mugen scratched himself again, then glared at his crew. “Alright, ladies, get back to work once you're sure no limbs are gonna fall off. We gotta be on the water by dark.” Then he turned and followed her out.

 

She was waiting for him in their quarters, stripping out of her bloodied work clothes and shrugging into her juban. He came up right behind her and slid one hand along her hip, just barely touching her skin. “Hey, babe,” he murmured into her ear. “Wanna fool around?” His other hand traced the curve of her neck as she lifted her hair and twisted it into a knot. He felt a flash of surprise that she allowed him to do this, but then he came back to himself, to the moment, to the fact that she was his lover and he knew her body as he knew his ship. He knew that he always had to be careful with her. He had to approach her this way so that she knew he was coming for her and just her. He knew she liked to be touched this way - slow and deliberate - and he liked it when he made her want things. She turned in his arms and glared up at him.

 

“Not before you take off your shirt.”

 

He squinted down at her. “Isn't that part of the whole 'fooling around' thing?”

 

She rolled her eyes at him and without further warning, jerked open his haori and lifted his undershirt. He looked down, as surprised as she to see a few sloppily bandaged slices crisscrossing his abdomen. She looked back up and he shrugged. “Got a little hairy last night, I guess.”

 

“Down here too,” she grumbled. “I had to put Mei in the cupboard.”

 

His hands went for her hips again. “Y'alright?”

 

“'Course I am; I took care of it.”

 

“S'my girl.” He shoved his nose in her hair and breathed in deep.

 

“Mugen, when are we going to get to land again, real land, you know, with people on it? I need more supplies and a real bath. And Mei needs a few things to keep her from turning into you.”

 

Mugen backed her up against their bed. He parted her juban and trailed his fingers up her belly. He spoke into her hair. “Soon's we find a harbor without shogunate soldiers lookin' for a felon named Mugen and the daughter of Kasumi Seizo.”

 

“Damn,” she muttered before dropping down onto the bed and pulling him on top of her.

 

He held himself up on one arm and watched her face as he touched her. Their lovemaking always started like this; he had to draw her out of herself, move past a line of defenses that she guarded as fiercely as he guarded his ship and everyone on it. It'd taken him a long time to figure out how to get inside her. It was more effort than he'd expended on anything he could recall and every time they did this, every time he saw the curve of her neck, saw her lift her hands over her head, saw her bend for him, he swore that he would help her keep guard, help her protect herself so long as it meant he was the one to see inside of her.

 

It was fucking beautiful.

 

He didn't remember the details of their lovemaking; he didn't remember falling asleep; he didn't remember when the world turned dim and heavy and warm.

 

He wasn't awake, he didn't think. He was still so tired, weighted down. In fact, he could barely breath. His world was back to just colors, blurred but brilliant. Gray, washed-out light, all around him, a bundle of pink on his chest, deep rich blue behind him, anchoring him with arms and bodies. He was safely on the ground, the sky free of crows. He felt old.

 

Or... he felt like this was old, that what he was feeling was old, and didn't start with him or pink or blue. It felt-

 

***

Her painful sobs jarred him out of the safe warmth of the dream, all memory of what happened in it scattering like ash, bringing to his attention every scrape, break, slice and hole he had on his body. The dream lingered in his muscles as his usually did, so it was an odd combination of sensations - pain and comfort, fear and safety. He cracked an eye and found himself on his back in a run-down hut. He'd woken up in so many of these over the past months, this one didn't register as anything special. Except in this one... more pain and more comfort than he was used to.

 

To his right, Jin lay sprawled on his side, his entire midsection a swathe of bandages soaked through with blood in two places. His hands reached out, fingers curled in. His hair was still down, falling across his face, so that Mugen couldn't make out whether he was awake or not. Probably not. Across the hut, Fuu knelt on the floor, undressed to the waist, trying to wrap her ribs and not having much success. Her breath hitched, causing her even more pain. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the wrappings. Mugen took longer than he should have to examine this strange sight. Her chest was covered in the usual tight bindings, but her back and stomach were bare. He'd caught glimpses of her before at bath houses, mere seconds before she squawked at him to “butt out, ya big perv!” And he'd seen her bathing in the river a few days after Sara died. This was different, though, because now, she was like them. She was doing for herself what she'd always done for them, when they came back a little worse for wear, and what they'd done for themselves before they'd met her. Her body was a map of everything they'd done in this last fight. And they were each alone in their fights, something that wasn't supposed to have happened. Mugen had been unable to help Jin at the docks; he'd been unable to help Fuu in the church until the very end. And neither of his friends had been able to come to his aid down on the shore with his small pack of crazies.

 

They'd been alone and it showed.

 

Her ribs were the worst, a spiderweb of dark bruises and abrasions. Mugen guessed they were from the butt of Eyepatch's scythe. Her neck was bruised where he'd probably started to throttle her. His eyes glanced off the marks just visible around her waist. He sat up as carefully as he could, head still full of cotton. She looked up sharply when she saw him move, then winced, fingers rising to her neck to massage strained muscles. She sniffled a few times, looked him right in the eye and then sort of... deflated, wrapping both arms around her middle. Her crying grew louder, as she rocked herself back and forth. He came awkwardly to her side and when he settled next to her, she turned to him, and rested her forehead on his knee, her sobs breathy and wheezing. She couldn't seem to stop and he started to worry that she might pass out if he she didn't.

 

He laid his hand along the protruding knobs of her spine, feeling that this was okay for him to do. Maybe it was remnants of the dream. Maybe it was that, after everything, how could it not be okay? He looked down at her back, so pale against his dark hand. She had no bruises on her back, which led him to believe that most of the damage had been done after she was tied up.

 

“Fuu,” he said, voice rough and low from exhaustion and lack of use. How long had he been out? “You gotta stop crying. You're only makin' it worse.”

 

She nodded against his knee. “I know,” she breathed. “But I can't. It hurts too much and every time I close my eyes or see a shadow, I think it's him, and I can't - my father's retainer went to get us blankets and more food, so there's no one to watch over you except me and no one to help me do this-”

 

“Okay, okay, cut it out,” he grumbled. “Sit up, Fuu.” His palm slid down along her ribs to brace her as she moved. He felt for any obvious breaks and found none, even under the darkest bruises. When she finally straightened, her face was flushed and puffy. Her left eye was swollen and so was her cheek. He rested his other hand - thickly bandaged from when the strangest of the three brothers had run it through with his claws - along her other side and felt for breaks. She looked up at him as he did with wide trusting eyes. It was the first time he'd ever really touched her skin. “Ribs must just be cracked,” he said. “Which still hurts like a bitch,” he added to make her feel like a little less of a wimp. She nodded.

 

He sat and watched her hands shake as she re-wrapped the bandages into a ball to start over. Then with an extra set of hands, they tried again. He knelt behind her and took the roll of bandages when she couldn't reach around, wrapping them around her back and then passing them to her on her other side. He held the bandages tight with this good hand, making sure they were secure enough to support her breathing and movements without restricting them too much. He helped her tie them off just above her hip bones and his fingers inadvertently pressed against a bruise that he couldn't see. She flinched and shied away, then apologized quickly, hands coming to rest in her lap. He watched from over her shoulder and it looked like she was trying to cover herself, even though she wasn't exposed.

 

He knew what had happened; he'd seen it dozens of time when he was a kid. Eventually the girls either learned to defend themselves or they found a guy who could protect them, but there was always a period of vulnerability that, when he was young, he could smell. He could smell it the room now - fear and shame and the effort to hide both. It wasn't a question of 'whether,' it was 'how far.'

 

“Fuu, did he...” He trailed off to watch as she raised her arms over her head to adjust the sticks in her hair. Her skin was bruised there too, in the shape of fingers.

 

“It's okay,” she murmured. “He didn't take anything that I hadn't already given up.” He didn't have the capacity to process that statement right then.

 

She turned, facial muscles tightening in pain as she shifted so that they sat knee-to-knee.

 

“You shouldn't have run off like that. I hadn't meant that you should do that when I told you to-”

 

“I know,” she interrupted.

 

“And then we thought you were safer out on the island while we fought Kariya. I didn't know they were already here. If you'd just waited for us, we coulda-”

 

“It doesn't matter,” she said.

 

His eyes fastened on her mouth where, now, he couldn't pick out the small bruise he'd given her from the many she'd gotten after that. “You shouldn't have gone off alone,” he said again, not able to get past that, even though he knew it was pointless to bring it up, to harass her about it now.

 

He took a breath and his side gave him a fierce twinge of pain. He groaned, wrapping one arm around his middle and leaning forward onto his good hand. He needed to rest more. He turned his head to tell her and found that, sitting like this, his mouth was right by her ear. In a daze, he saw her turn just enough so that their lips almost touched. He felt her breath on his mouth and lifted his chin just enough to kiss her. By his usual standards, it was the lamest kiss he'd ever had, but kneeling on the floor, holding his insides in while she, in turn braced her cracked ribs with one arm to get a better angle so she could touch his face - he didn't think his usual standards applied to the situation.

 

“I promise I won't do it again,” she whispered.

 

“What a dumb promise to make,” he answered a moment before he blacked out.