Samurai Champloo Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward Wanderers ❯ Chapter 8

Warning: A bit more angst in this chapter given the end of last chapter and the need to reach the end of the series.

 

 

Wayward Wanderers Chapter 8

 

He didn't think he was awake; he thought he was dreaming again, that painfully familiar, ancient feeling of safety that could never be his. The weight of two bodies kept him anchored to the ground, safe on the ground, one across his chest, the other close by, not quite touching, but still solid. The gray light of dawn seeped in around them, highlighting the dust in the air and the dull sheen of Fuu's hair right under his nose. She needed a bath. She smelled like... well, she smelled like him, which was never good. In fact the whole room smelled like sex, and not just the usual kind, the kind he was used to. There were other smells that were familiar, but in higher concentration, sharper than he'd ever smelled.

 

He was definitely not dreaming. He blinked and found himself in the grave-shaped root cellar and the need to breath and move slammed through his muscles in one icy-cold jolt of adrenalin. He surged upright, dumping Fuu off his chest with a sleepy protest. His head met the floorboards and rattled them, waking Jin with a start. In the same second, he noticed the rumble of men's voices, dozens of them. He heard the tread of many sets of feet and froze. He exchanged a quick glance of alarm with Jin, who propped himself up on an elbow and reached for his short-sword. Mugen felt the absence of his own weapon acutely. He cast a quick look at the floorboards, lungs needing to expand, muscles needing to stretch and bend, and he almost stood up, but Jin shook his head, signaling him to stay still. Fuu heard the voices now, too, and was looking between them, trying to silently ask them what they were going to do.

 

Mugen stared at the walls around him and realized that the only thing they could do was wait. He shuffled away from the others and tugged his arms through the sleeves of his haori. He backed himself into the corner furthest from the voices and strained his ears to hear what they were saying. Half his attention was drawn back to Fuu when she turned away from them both to rebind her chest. He watched the curve of her spine and the way she bent as she wound the cloth tightly around her chest. He felt his mouth curve up and thought that he'd done pretty well for himself. She turned sharply when she found the comb in her hair. She was still half dressed and when she spun to look at him, he couldn't take his eyes off the way her back twisted, muscles sliding beneath skin. She held the piece of carved bone in her hand and then did what was quickly becoming his favorite thing of all, raising her arms over her head to twist her hair into its usual knot. The way she looked at him, she knew he liked to watch. She stuck the sticks through the thick mass and then slid the comb in at the base of the knot, half-hidden by the fall of her hair. With her arms raised like that, he noticed the string of prayer beads around her wrist and his gaze slid to Jin. The ronin was watching him carefully. So, Jin had beaten him to the punch. He'd wondered how Fuu had known the comb was from him, realizing now that Jin had already given her 'something of value, something she would like.' Sly bastard. Looked like the deal was sealed now.

 

Before he had a chance to panic about that, feet and voices pounded through the shed one last time, a quick cursory sweep of the village. Fuu watched the feet overhead with a determined glint in her eye, like she was daring the soldiers to find them. Maybe it was daylight that made her more confident. Maybe it was the string of beads on her wrist and the comb in her hair. She looked like she was ready to take them all on herself. Mugen rolled his eyes and hoped she'd stay still.

 

The men left after a brief search, and then a voice spoke from outside. “Keep a sharp eye once we're back on the mainland. They'll travel together. You find one, you'll find all three. We need to find them before they leave the area. Let's move out.”

 

The tread of their feet started moving through the village, heading down toward the docks and Mugen let himself relax a bit. So, they'd have to be careful where they went; looked like the shogunate wasn't going to be subtle anymore about tracking them down. They'd have a to keep a low profile. What else was new? Fuu looked slightly more disturbed by what the officer had said. That determined look hadn't left her eye, but now she looked worried.

 

Within an hour, the old man came back for them, lifting the boards off the cellar to tell them the coast was clear. Mugen was on his feet and out of the cellar before the old man could even get out of the way. Jin came next, turning to bend down and help Fuu.

 

He reached his arms up to the sky when he felt the sun on his face and let out a great whoop! before flinging his body into a front handspring. He needed to get moving and not stop moving until all the kinks were out, until the smell of wasabi, ginger and earth was out of his nose, until he forgot the feeling of a floor right above his shoulders. He wanted to get back to their bluff and then maybe down to the ocean for a swim. Maybe a swim without clothes, maybe with Fuu. Maybe he'd let Jin watch.

 

His feet hit the ground with a solid thud and he abruptly came face to face with himself, drawn in rough, broad strokes. Under his image was Jin's, and below that, Fuu's. Surrounding their pictures were a lot of words, printed on a large sheet plastered over the door of someone's house.

 

“Oi,” he called. “What the hell is this?” He struggled to remember his reading lessons, struggled to put the syllables in the right order, but the kanji all ran together. He definitely saw “dead or alive.” He gleaned that much. The rest was- fuck, what were those two doing that they couldn't give him a hand with- He turned. “Oi! What the fuck is...” He trailed off, turning in a slow circle, noting that Fuu and Jin were similarly engaged a few paces away.

 

The whole village was covered with pictures of them. Everywhere he looked, he stared at himself. The villagers looked out at him through their windows, looking a bit resentful, but mostly still tired, miserable, and poor. The shogunate probably paid Ikitsuki Island regular visits, since it was a former hotbed of underground Christian activity. That was most likely the reason the three of them hadn't been turned in last night. The villagers were probably used to this. Mugen did not like it one bit. And now those fuckers were headed for the mainland, and he bet they hadn't used up all their Wanted posters on the island.

 

Fuu was furious. Her hands were clenched into tiny fists, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was going to cry. Instead she took off running. Jin went after her with a quick glance Mugen's way. He waved him off and went in search of sake. They (or at least he) were going to need it.

 

***

One of those signs was plastered right across their door. He didn't know when it'd become “their” door, but fuck it, their door now had their pictures on it. Mugen ripped it down, skinning his knuckles in the process. He cursed under his breath as he shoved open the door and nearly tripped over the wreckage of what had been their home for the last few weeks. The fire pit had been dug up, the floorboards splintered and broken. The paper in the windows had been torn out, the frames broken. Their food stores were a mess.

 

He wandered back outside, uncorking his bottle as he went. He found her in the garden, kicking through the upturned earth. She'd already harvested most of what the season had to offer, but they'd still destroyed what they could.

 

“It's not like we were going to stay here anyway,” she murmured, half to herself, staring at her feet. He took a large swallow from the bottle and passed it to her. Without hesitating she did the same.

 

“Where's Jin?”

 

“At my father's grave. I asked him to go see if they'd done anything to it, but I know the body will be gone.”

 

Mugen made a face. “Gross. Why?”

 

She shrugged. “They're afraid any Christians left will try and martyr him. Sometimes they take body parts for those kinds of things, the Christians. They're called relics, I think. The shogunate wouldn't want them to have a martyr, someone to rally around.”

 

“And even grosser.”

 

She nodded without really hearing him. She didn't look at him when she passed the bottle back. “Mugen,” she started.

 

“Yeah?”

 

She reached her hand out for him and he hesitated before offering her his first two fingers. She grabbed onto them and finally looked up at him. He recognized that stubborn set of her jaw and the line between her eyebrows, and he just knew she was about to rip the rug out from under his feet.

 

“I don't think we can travel together anymore.”

 

***

For 24 confusing, gut-wrenching, fucking incredible, awful hours, he didn't think he would be able to do it. It wasn't right; it wasn't fair... and, dammit, he'd just gotten here and he didn't think it would be possible for him to leave, even if he wanted to. But he did want to, or at least, he had to; and when it came down to it, the distinction was negligible. He would leave. They would leave. They were leaving him. And when in his 20-odd years of living had 'right' or 'fair' ever mattered anyway?

 

***

“It's a fucking horrible idea. You both know it is. Jin, tell her it's stupid.”

 

Jin sat with his legs folded under him, staring into their fire. The wind whipped along their bluff and around the cliffs, but here, behind a sheltering ridge of rocks, the air was relatively calm. The waves sucked and pounded at the sand a few paces away, but here, it was at least quiet enough to think. They were supposed to be thinking anyway. Fuu was clearly not thinking. And Jin wasn't talking.

 

“You can't go off alone. You just can't!” Mugen shouted when he got no support from the gray lump next to him.

 

“Yes, I can!” she shouted right back at him, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a long pull.

 

“Remember the last time you did that? Remember how much that didn't work and how much we almost got killed?!”

 

“It'll be different this time. This time, it's too dangerous to be together. You think I wouldn't rather be with you both. You think that's not what I want?”

 

“We split up and you're dead in a week, girlie. You know what kinda people are after you now? Sara and Kariya were the best they had, sure, but they were at least polite. The assholes that go after chicks with a bounty on their head- Fuu, you don't want to meet those people. Jin and I could handle'em. You can't.”

 

“If we stay together, wherever we go, there'll be people looking to turn us in. You saw those posters. You saw how much money the three of us are worth, but it's us they're looking for. If we don't split up, it wouldn't ever stop. Not ever.” She passed the bottle to Jin, who took a large swallow and still said nothing.

 

“It'll be over in a fucking week this way. They'll find you.”

 

“No they won't. I'll be careful. And anyway, it doesn't have to be forever, or even that long. Six months, I don't know, a year, maybe? If we just disappear for awhile, if they figure out I'm not a threat, and that you two aren't...” She looked between them and then groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Arrgh, why are you both criminals? Why can't you just be normal people who obey the laws and have good reputations?”

 

He didn't dignify that with an answer.

 

She waved a dismissive hand in front of her face and shook her head. “Anyway, we can take the time we have on our own to do some research and figure out where we can go, and then we meet up again at some designated point and we go there, and then we'll be safe. It can work; I know it can.”

 

He scowled at her. “Why can't you just wanna get married and have babies like other girls?”

 

Next to him, Jin's shoulders twitched once and be barked a laugh. He looked up briefly. “Sorry,” he murmured before falling silent and still again. Mugen shot an irritated glance his way. He'd figured Jin would be passed out by now, given his usual tolerance for alcohol.

 

Fuu was still glaring at him. “Why are you constantly thinking with your penis instead of your other head? Why do you only think about yourself and what you want?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Pig.”

 

He really didn't want to hear her say the word 'penis' ever again. And she was totally missing the point. He shook his head. “Goddammit, Fuu, this isn't about that! Those posters say to kill us on sight! We're worth more dead than alive. If someone recognizes you, they will kill you, and we won't be there to save your scrawny ass. We won't be there.”

 

“I've made up my mind,” she said, and now Jin's gaze snapped up. “I can't put you both through this anymore. I want us to be together, but we have to find some place that's safe, and I don't think we can do that if we travel together. I'd rather be alive and alone than with you only to watch you die.” She looked between them and her brow rose. She was about to give them one of those heartfelt looks. She might cry, too. He was fucked if she did that. “You said it was my choice, right? Well, this is what I choose. We have to leave here, leave alone and not see each other. We cut all ties and find lives of our own. Once we've done that, if we can do that, then we find each other again.”

 

He glanced at Jin. Jin looked like hell. Mugen scrubbed a hand through his hair and figured he probably did too.

 

***

They slept down on the beach that night, clustered around the fire. When it burnt down and the wind began to chill them, they slept in a tangle of limbs and clothing. Mugen didn't sleep well, but he didn't mind. His eyes wouldn't close, so he stared at the comb in Fuu's hair and at Jin's arm where it lay across them both.

 

His curiosity would be the death of him; he knew it, because it was killing him now. He'd never had this before. Never, in his life; not once. And it was too late to be pissed about it now. He was already in over his head. He'd never had 'family.' He'd never had 'friends.' Now he had both and in another day, they'd be gone again. While he was awake now, though, they were his.

 

They'd been together for months, but in the course of one night, they'd become something else. Mugen needed time to understand what this new thing was and it frustrated him that he couldn't have it. It was killing him that he couldn't grab onto this new thing and play with it until he knew how it worked. He had the visceral urge to grab onto both of them and hold onto them no matter how hard they pulled away, even if he broke them in the process.

 

***

“Cover up your hair. Or maybe cut it.”

 

“Okay.” She exhaled sharply as her back came up against the shed wall. “But what about the comb you gave me? If I have short hair, it won't stay in.”

 

He gave her a boost, wrapping both her legs around him. “Don't care,” he mumbled into her throat. “Just keep it for when I see you again.”

 

“Okay.” She arched her neck under his mouth and reached one arm up to brace herself against the wall. “Don't get into any stupid fights you can't win. Promise me you won't get yourself killed when I can't patch you up again.”

 

“I'm not makin' promises I can't keep. You shouldn't either.”

 

“Please don't throw your life away.”

 

He could promise her that, so he did.

 

“I won't be faithful to you,” he whispered in her ear, thrusting his hips up into her hers, grinding their bodies together. “I'll fuck lotsa women while you're gone.”

 

“Will you say my name at least once when you do it?” she hissed back.

 

He blinked up at her, saw her watching him through heavy lidded eyes, saw her arm stretched over her head, and shuddered. “Yes,” he groaned.

 

She'd told him she wanted to have sex with him before they split up. She'd said it just like that. “I think we should have sex before we split up.” They were leaving in the morning. They only had one more night together. Jin had disappeared early that morning, promising to return by afternoon. He was giving them time and space to say goodbye, which meant he'd be expecting the same courtesy when he returned. Mugen was making the most of his time now, but he didn't want to have sex with her right then, against the shed by her father's house. He didn't know how to tell her that, so he fucked her with clothes on instead. She seemed to like it.

 

“And get rid of that stupid pink, kimono. Find something plain and dark. No pricey dyes.”

 

She kissed him, biting his lower lip. “Okay.” Her fingers trailed along the new scars that slashed across his cheek, running over each one. She turned her head just slightly and he felt her tongue on them.

 

“And don't talk about where you've been or where you're goin' with anybody.”

 

She tugged open the front of her kimono and he bent forward to bite her collar bone. “Okay.”

 

“And use a different name.”

 

“Who should I be?” she murmured.

 

Her twig-fingers and bird-bones clenched around him so tight that he could only think of one name. “Suzume.”* He whispered it in her ear before he bit her throat and worked his hand inside her clothes, up her thigh and between her legs. She arched away from the wall and he nearly dropped her.

 

“I'm going to miss you,” she said between clenched teeth.

 

“Then wise up and don't leave us.”

 

“I'll find you again, when it's safe.”

 

“It's a stupid plan and you'll get yourself killed.”

 

“No I won't.” She bucked her hips forward and he almost lost what little control he still had on the situation. “When you see me again, I'll be stronger. You'd like that, right? You like a girl who can handle herself.”

 

He stopped moving and looked her in the eye. Some days he felt a lot older than others. Then he grinned. “If you come back and you can kick my ass, I swear I'll be yours forever.”

 

She huffed a small laugh. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

 

“I don't.”

 

***

Jin found him as the sun was beginning to dip closer to the horizon. He awoke suddenly and loudly when a sword fell into his lap, jolting him upright. He blinked and yawned, saw the ugly gray sheath laying across his legs and squinted up at the man standing over him. “What's'is?”

 

“Your new blade. Seizo Kasumi's retainer had it. I thought you might want it.”

 

Mugen stared down at the sword in his lap and then looked back up at Jin, noticing a very nice, very unfamiliar katana at his hip. “I want that one,” he said pointing at Jin's new blade.

 

Jin's hand fell protectively to his daisho. “You can not have it.” Then his hand fell away and he glared down at Mugen. “Obviously, you can not have it, or I would have given it to you, instead of that one. Yours is a fine weapon. It will serve you well.”

 

Mugen got to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his new blade. “Why can't I have that one?”

 

“Because it was Seizo's.” Mugen raised an eyebrow. “And his daughter gave it to me,” he added, voice dropping low.

 

Mugen bristled. “Why didn't she give it me?”

 

Jin regarded him with infuriatingly familiar sobriety. “Because you are a dishonorable cur.” Then he smirked.

 

Mugen rubbed the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder at the ocean. He turned back. “Fair enough.” He looked down at the plain, solid sword in his hand. He liked bright colors, and there was nothing bright about this sword. It was plain and dull. He drew the blade from the sheath. It did feel good in his hand, though. He gave it a few experimental slashes, and he liked it's weight, the clean sound it made. He swiveled his wrist and the blade made a tight arc through the air. Jin took a prosaic step back when he slung the sheath across his shoulders and turned his gaze back on him. “Wanna try'em out?”

 

Jin's mouth twitched and desire shot through Mugen like a sword stroke. That was something new - and yet another thing he would not get to explore beyond what he could discover right now. He gave Jin an answering grin and darted forward, torso already twisting down and to the left as he heard the familiar 'snick' of a fantastically dangerous katana leaving its sheath. It whistled by his left ear as he spun around behind, right hand dropping to the ground and propelling him to Jin's unguarded side. But the new blade was already there when he swung, and his blade rang along it, sliding down and away before he even regained his feet. He twisted around in time to back away under a brutal downward stroke. Muscle and scar tissue stretched and pulled and felt incredible as his body worked exactly the way he needed it to, power coiling in him as he dropped to one knee and then shoved back. Jin's black eyes narrowed and he retreated several steps only to have Mugen stick to him, falling forward onto his hands, hips snapping to the side, one steel-lined geta slapping his blade away, the other scything towards his jaw. He dropped onto his shoulders and spun, forcing Jin to retreat further. He rolled to his feet and then brought the blade up, catching another downward stroke that would have sliced him in half. Jin pulled back and swung again and, again, their blades met and slid and parted. Mugen pressed him back, working his way inside his guard. Jin always pushed him away though, katana ripping up, trying to tear him to pieces. Mugen twisted and dodged, lungs full to bursting, blood and oxygen slamming through his body. He was almost dizzy with it. He spun away from Jin's attack, just ahead of the blade, spinning, back coming up against his, their spines lining up for the perfect second before he moved away. Always moving. Jin could make use of stillness; Mugen stepped all over it and in it, demanding attention and movement. Jin pushed him toward the edge of the bluff, toward the scraggly line of trees that he'd been sleeping under. Mugen grinned and turned, geta clacking against tree bark as he jumped and twisted around, pouncing on the ronin who now held the katana in two hands, one on the grip, the other under the blade. Mugen landed and was shoved off, flipping over Jin's head to land, already tumbling and rolling to his feet. He turned and raised his blade just as Jin's sliced the air by his throat. They froze like that, Mugen dead from a slashed jugular, Jin gutted with a blade in his belly. Mugen almost came right then as he saw exactly what they were, as he saw their perfection. I

 

By silent agreement, they lowered their weapons, the sound of their heavy breathing masked by the wind. He took two steps forward and Jin fell back a pace and Mugen thought his desire must be scrawled all over his face for Jin to actually step away from him. But it was only reflex and in the next second Mugen had his hands on warm skin, shoving aside the folds of Jin's new kimono to slide his fingers into the grooves of Jin's ribs. Their blades lay forgotten in the grass. Mugen's fingers hesitated on the long slash in Jin's side and he paused in his hurried exploration of skin to run his hand along the tough ridge of scar tissue. Jin's breath was suddenly loud in his ear and Mugen turned his head slightly, his unspoken question obvious between them.

 

“It's numb,” Jin murmured. Then he shivered as Mugen's fingers traced a parallel line about two finger widths above the wound. Mugen knew scars; he knew their sensitivity and he knew how far the numbness extended.

 

“How 'bout there?”

 

Jin's breath huffed in his ear. “Not numb there.” Mugen grinned and then gave a shout of surprise as Jin tangled their legs together and shoved him to the ground. His head thumped against grass and then Jin's hands fumbled with the tie of his new haori, long pale fingers seeking skin just as Mugen's had. His sharp pale features were drawn down in concentration, and Mugen fell still just to watch Jin's eagerness. It was also new. Then he curled upward onto his elbows when Jin's cold hands found his skin.

 

“Fuck, you're freezing,” he muttered before wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and dragging him down into a rough kiss.

 

Jin moaned into his mouth and it was such a small noise that Mugen only felt it as a slight vibration on his lips. Jin's hands found his wounds just as easily as he'd found the ronin's and he leaned his head back to catch his breath as the sensitive edges of the slice in his side were ruthlessly exploited. “We could...” Jin's hands were traveling, working their way up to his chest and over his shoulders, tracing the muscles in his arms. He took in a shuddering breath and tried again. “We could...”

 

Jin's hands dropped to the ground underneath Mugen's raised shoulders, between ribs and underarm. They propped Mugen up a bit as Jin lowered his hips, bringing their lower bodies together. “We could what, Mugen?” he asked, voice low and rough.

 

“We could fuck,” he said in a rush.

 

Jin dragged his hips upward and Mugen flinched a little, the friction between them bordering on painful. “Is that what you want?”

 

He groaned. “I don't fuckin' know. Does it matter? You're gone tomorrow.”

 

Jin didn't say anything, just kept up the near-painful pressure on his groin. Black hair like strands of silk tickled his neck and he twitched his head away. Jin looked up at his sudden movement and their gazes met. Mugen stared into black eyes that were tense, wary and charged with so much need that he felt it like a fist under his ribs. He looked down, instead focusing on the sharp lines of Jin's collarbone and the hollow at the base of his throat. Mugen didn't get lonely. His survival had never required friendship. He didn't need people. In Jin's eyes and in the tension of his shoulders, Mugen saw that terrible need. And it bled into him - it had a long time before they'd reached this point in their friendship - to the point where he knew that, whether or not they actually said anything, every move they made was screaming, “Why are you leaving me? Why now?”

 

He lay there, still propped up on his elbows, and the words fell from his mouth before he could haul them back. “We could follow her, draw the fire away, keep her safe. We wouldn't have to tell her.”

 

Jin shook his head. “That wouldn't be fair.”

 

He snorted. “And what she's doing now is fair?”

 

“Yes,” he hissed, sounding like he hated the word.

 

“Do you think it'll work?”

 

A sharp exhalation, almost a laugh. Mugen raised his eyes to see Jin staring at the ground. “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

When he spoke his voice was bitter. “Because you are both fools who think you are invincible. That's why. She will go off on her own because she is stubborn and proud and, yes, she is remarkably lucky, but she is still a girl who doesn't know how horrible people can be.” Mugen thought of her in the church, tied to the cross, beaten to the point of near-unconsciousness, and thought that Jin wasn't quite right on that count. “She will find a quiet place that she thinks is safe and someone will slit her throat at night when she is asleep and helpless. And we will never know where she went or what happened to her. And you-” Black eyes slid in his direction and then away. “You think that you have to beat anyone who comes close to your talent with a sword. But you have met men and women who could kill you, and still you fought them without fear. You will meet your match again one day and you will die young. It will happen before we can find each other again, before either Fuu or I can stop it.”

 

He thought of the times that he'd nearly died, when he'd met the bird men and they'd almost taken him with them. He thought of the only two reasons he hadn't let them. And he thought Jin wasn't quite right on that count either.

 

Mugen growled low in his throat and pushed Jin off him with one hard shove against his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet and headed for their house, starting to feel just a little bit better about their chances.

 

***

It started to rain after dark, as they finished dinner. Fuu had painstakingly rebuilt the fire pit for their last night, shoving broken floorboards out of the way so they could sit on the dirt floor. The rain beat on the roof and occasionally blew in through the open window. Mugen shoved the food down his throat like he always did and then belched right in Fuu's ear just to see her flinch sideways, make a face and complain, “Jeez, now I need a bath.” Then, because no one beat Fuu when it came to grossness involving food, she set aside her bowl, sat up straighter and belched right back at him. He heard Jin heave a pained sigh.

 

“Dunno, I think it's a draw,” Fuu said after a moment's consideration.

 

“Yeah, I ate slower tonight. Not enough air,” Mugen replied critically.

 

“You'll have to keep training while you're gone,” she said, leaning over to give his leg a patronizing pat.

 

“One a'these days, bitch, you're goin' down.”

 

She smiled. “Keep dreaming, sweety.”

 

Jin sighed again from across the fire.

 

***

Her mouth was turned down in a frown of concentration, brows drawn together. Her fingers held his arm in a near-painful grip, and didn't move. Her back was a straight, rigid line. He knew she was in pain and that she was fighting it. She let out a slow breath - he hadn't realized she'd been holding it - and leaned her forehead on his shoulder. Her hips straddled his, her knees gripping his sides. He moved inside her, small thrusts that bounced her up and down and sent his head to a dark frenzied place where 'need, want, take' warred with 'be careful.' He turned just slightly to whisper in her ear, “Stay with me, babe.” He was the first to really be inside her and he couldn't do it if she didn't have her head in it. She nodded against his shoulder and he felt her hips twitch forward in answer. She stretched her other arm around behind to wrap around Jin's neck. Mugen glanced up to lock eyes with him and forced down the knee-jerk urge to pull Fuu away and snarl “mine!” Jin's shoulders and back shown dully with sweat in the close air of their house. His sharp eyebrows sloped downward and he looked... hungry. They crushed her between them when they kissed, Mugen stretching one arm around them both to grip the sharp bones of his hip.

 

He slid out of her and she arched her back, shifting off his hips so that Jin could seat her better on his lap. She gasped and moaned and it still didn't look it felt very good, but when she opened her eyes and met Mugen's wide stare, she gave him a wicked grin and he felt that surely this was the best night of his life.

 

No one wanted to sleep. Even after they were exhausted and sweaty and smelled like sex and a dusty floor, they lay together and tried to stay awake. Fuu lay on her back, head and shoulders resting on his chest, drowsily nibbling at the inside of his wrist, tongue tracing the lines of his tattoos. Mugen stretched out beneath her, his other hand resting flat on her belly. Jin sat propped against the wall, thumb rubbing small circles around her ankle bone.

 

He didn't know when they eventually nodded off. He slept like the dead and did not dream.

 

***

He was awoken by soft voices, so he kept his breathing slow and his eyes closed and listened. They were some distance from him, across the room.

 

“We would keep you safe.”

 

“I know you would. You would both die for me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I can't let that happen, Jin.”

 

“You would have to trust us.”

 

“I do. After all this time, how could I not trust you? You have to trust me now. I have to know that I can get along on my own, without you. You have to trust that I can do it, and that I will find you again.”

 

He cracked an eye open and saw them kneeling across from each other. They were dressed, their hair and skin obviously just cleaned. They were ready to leave. He watched them lean together and kiss over knees that just barely touched. He rolled over onto his side and for the first time since he'd woken from his injuries, he wanted to kill someone.

 

An hour later, they made their way to the cross-roads.

 

Fin.

 

* suzume = sparrow

 

 

 

And finished! I hope this rang true to the series and that it was a plausible ending. I always wanted to think that they would find each other again. Now there's plenty of room for future adventures!