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Samurai Champloo: Volume 7, Episode 24: Interstitial Interchange (Part 1&2)
0 reviewsStarts at the infamous "fireside chat" scene to reveal some insights into our three heroes. Dovetails into the series' actual ending with more insights and (*gasp!) feelings!
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4/5/10
Samurai Champloo: Volume 7 Episode 24: Interstitial Interchange (Part 1)
Sometimes, Fuu wondered if all Mugen amounted to was being an out and out thug. She quickly pushed it aside, knowing (hoping) it wasn’t true. After all the time they had spent traveling together, she had certainly seen him act on the basest impulse of his depravity. But there were also those few moments that allowed a quick glimpse into his humanity. Most important was that he had some humanity left to glimpse, much to her relief. She wanted to hang onto those memories only and let the other disappointments be blown away like so much dander in the mid-day breeze; especially now, when there was little time left between them. She let out a sigh and looked at Jin whose usual stoic expression toward his warrior companion couldn’t wholly veil the wonder…nor the smidgen of disgust. She almost chuckled but caught herself. She needed to focus…to really listen…to remember every word and the smoothness of their faces that was captured in the flickering of the campfire while they spoke.
“Okay, Jin, you go next. So…what were you doing before you met the two of us?” she prompted.
Jin turned his attention to Fuu. That steady, calm gaze often disarmed her. She never knew what he was thinking at any given moment. His tone of voice hardly wavered let alone his expression and the stillness belied the explosive power that was just under the surface but he was the master of it. The only thing she could be sure of was that Jin would likely be thinking the opposite of whatever Mugen was about to fire off. But tonight was something new. They’d never just sat around and talked about themselves or their past. It found ways to come back and find them, to be sure, sometimes with tragic results, but they were now actively making that connection of their own will. Jin took an almost imperceptible intake of air.
“I had been traveling a long time. I lost my parents while I was still a child and was left in the care of the Muju Shin kenjutsu dojo.”
Jin’s attention slid to the campfire, watching as the fire popped and snapped while it devoured the wood and cooked the fish. It brought the distant sound and memory of bokutos clacking together during practices to the forefront of his mind.
“However,” Jin continued, “ever since I was a child, I did nothing but train in kenjutsu day in and day out. I had always been alone. And soon, none of the other children were a match for me. They all feared me, were jealous of me, and did their best to shun me.”
Jin closed his eyes then and his mouth became set in a thin, grim line. This was as much information as Fuu and Mugen had ever heard about Jin from Jin himself. They weren’t sure if he was going to continue talking or if that was all he was going to share, but neither interjected. They waited. The fire’s crackle and the cricket’s song seemed to be taking over where his words had trailed off. Jin heard the voice of his master, the man who had cared for him as a father would, and in the end, the man he had swiftly driven his katana blade through.
“Jin. Your eyes see too much. Your strength has no grounding. That means your strength is strength that exists for no one but yourself.”
For whom should that strength exist, if not for myself? He had often wondered after that night. He still did not know the answer. And his master was now dead and could not teach him more upon the matter. Jin opened his eyes again, focusing on the dancing flames, unable to look directly upon his companions at that moment. They waited.
“Eventually, I was made to bear the shame of killing my master…and was driven from the dojo. I was on the road ever since that day, traveling in search of something. But even I had no idea what it was that I was searching for. It may be that I was simply…running away.”
Mugen turned his gaze toward the fire knowing Jin would say no more. He knew Jin was a lot of things – a smug pain in the ass, for one – but a coward he was not. There weren’t many men or women he considered his equal, or better, in skill and he never believed in his recent travels that he would meet one, let alone two such people. Sara was like no one he’d ever met and doubted he ever would again. The only reason he was still alive was because she’d held back. He’d be rotting as two separate pieces of Mugen filet if she hadn’t pulled her killing blow. She’d still be alive as well. She wanted to die and he gave her what she desired, unwittingly. What a waste of a great fighter…and a great bod, he thought. Jin may not have been a match for her either but at least he survived her attack using his wits or whatever people wanted to call it. Mugen would have eaten it big time had Fuu not thrown herself over him at his first encounter, begging Sara for his life. Humiliating. Whatever. Only Fuu was stupid enough to want to save his hide.
So Sara was one. Mugen was quickly realizing that Jin was the other one – his equal…maybe even his better.
Nah.
But the guy knew how to use a sword, that was for sure. It wasn’t anything like his own style but then again, maybe that’s why Jin was able to counter him at every pass. He glanced at Fuu. She looked as if she wanted to ask Jin the same question that was forming in his own mind, now that he felt like giving a crap about it. Why the hell did Jin kill his own master? He didn’t seem the type. It was the million-ryo question. Hell, even Jin seemed confused about it. But now was not the time.
Mugen turned to Fuu. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Mm,” she replied with a nod and began to speak of her mother’s brief life and how she had told Fuu that her father was actually alive.
Jin watched Fuu as she recounted the last moments of her mother’s life and her promise to make sure her father would be on the receiving end of a good slugging for making her mother suffer. For making her suffer. Jin was trained daily since he was a child, in focus and in discipline. But Fuu had no formal training, no instruction, no master to guide her. She made a promise and she meant to keep it, no matter the obstacles. It is what made her throw her lot in with two complete strangers and travel such a great distance on the slim chance of finding a man who, until recently, had no name. Jin had noted her sense of duty before. It had almost gotten her killed on several occasions. It surprised him to find this quality, almost to a fault, in someone so young and without formal tutelage. He had been taught the meaning and honor in duty and he believed in it. But Fuu seemed instilled with it. Her mother would be proud, he thought. He hoped, in some way, her father would be as well.
As she spoke, the weight of her choices continued to press down on her. Mugen and Jin were the only family she’d had in some time. And by the light of day, she would have to say goodbye to the little sense of security that had been cultivating inside of her. They had been strangers…killers, even…but she trusted them with her life and with the promise she’d made to her mother. They, in their own way, rewarded her trust tenfold. She was alive and she had made it this far because of them. Only them. And they had faced death and so much pain along the way. And for what? For her? The weight of it was crushing her, almost drilling her into the ground now. She had asked Jin to escort Sara and he almost lost his life because of her foolish gamble. He nearly died because of her ill-conceived presumption that he would stay whereas Mugen would bail. Why had she expected Jin to stay? She asked him to go with Sara and he respected her wishes. Of course he would. But it had hurt terribly even if she could bring herself to accept it. The moments when she couldn’t find any sign of Jin were unbearable. Then Mugen. She had only just made it in time to stave Sara off. She was so confused. She didn’t understand why they were fighting each other at the time. Why was Sara so determined to rip away the only two people that mattered to Fuu? Weren’t they all friends?
No. They weren’t all friends. She had thrown Jin to the wolves. In this case, a highly trained government assassin she-wolf. Mugen wasn’t about to let her just walk away either and he paid dearly for it. For the first time he faced an opponent that was beyond him and that idea alone was almost too much to accept. The time to forfeit his life came swiftly after that but at least Fuu was there to stop it in time, which was the least she could do after she had failed Jin so miserably. Sure, she had saved them from being executed that fateful day they first met. At least she thought so. But how many times had she put them on the chopping block thereafter, all so she could do the big “shame on you” at her long-lost father; a man she wasn’t even sure she’d ever find. It was all of a sudden so unfair. She had asked for too much. And it was going to stop.
“Thank you. Thank you both for coming all this way with me.”
If Jin had ever heard resignation in someone’s voice, this was it.
To Be Continued…
4/6/10
Samurai Champloo: Volume 7Episode 24: Interstitial Interchange (Part 2)
He had always been a light sleeper. Growing up in a dojo, no one made a noise unless it was meant to be heard. So when the other students were caught not being careful enough to step soundlessly on the wooden floors in the hallway or on the tatami mats in his room as they tried to ambush him in his sleep, Jin made sure they would know to be more silent next time or not even try at all. He never tried to hurt any of his peers who lashed out at him but their bruises were easily explained the next day by way of overzealousness during katas. He didn’t need to tattle and they didn’t want to get caught. They healed, planned, and tried again. It was not all of the students, just a handful who could not understand why Jin was so favored. During the day, they barely looked at him. But some nights, they were all the more eager to get to him. They would soon learn. Their attempts to catch him unawares were few and far between so as to remain unpredictable and this made him ever vigilant. He became highly aware even as he dozed, hearing the slightest snap of twig from a distance away, the gentle rustling of leaves, the uneven breathing of the students next door. If he awoke, he just as easily was able to fall back asleep.
In a strange twist of Fate, he had his fellow students to thank for that night he woke a few seconds before a deadly katana blade came down and sliced his bedding into ribbons. After years of heightening his senses both day and night, he was more than ready for the attack. His own sword flashed out from its sheath knowing that this intruder was not playing around with a bokuto but a real blade sharp enough to cut into human flesh with only an ounce of pressure. This was serious. Dangerous. This foe was much faster than any of the students could dream of being but even then, his movements were slow compared to Jin’s. Three advances later, his master was staggering backwards with Jin’s sword stuck cleanly through his gut. The last words of encouragement Jin would ever hear from his master were uttered before he pulled the sword from his own dying body and bled out onto Jin’s tatami floor.
Jin opened his eyes. He didn’t wake up because of the dream. That was something he lived with daily. He woke due to noises coming from near the riverbed. He quickly looked over at Mugen who was sleeping soundly. Fuu’s mat was empty. He raised his head to look toward the river and saw Fuu sitting there near the edge, her small form hunched over at the shoulders. Even in the low moonlight he could see her movements were familiar. It reminded him of when he found her at the bridge, the night before she had asked him to escort Sara to find her son.
Fuu didn’t hear him approach or realize that he was standing just beside her, watching as she wiped her tears away with her sleeves. Whether or not his fellow students at the dojo learned how to be silent, he did.
“Is something the matter?” Jin asked, knowing very well something was.
Jin. How did he catch her at these moments? How did he know to ask when something was the matter only when there was a great deal the matter? She stood as naturally as she could and wiped away the remnants of her concerns from her face as if she were just brushing away a stray lash, still unable to look at him.
“No, it’s nothing. Nothing,” she said, sounding as nonchalant as possible. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” Divert, divert.
“Fuu…”
“Hm?” she chirped and turned her face up to him, smiling. She rarely ever heard him say her name. It was almost a whisper, the way he said it in that quiet way of his. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing him talk but to hear her name spoken seemed like such an intimate thing because it was so rare. This thought was quickly tempered by the realization that she may never get the chance to hear it again after this night. She refused to let her countenance fall.
Jin’s expression was unchanged, steady and even, all the while she beamed at him. “Once you find the Sunflower Samurai, what do you intend to do after that?”
She let it fall. Turning her gaze back to the rolling river, she let out her breath. She hadn’t realized she had been holding it, somehow trying to use it to bolster her wholly conjured demeanor. That didn’t last too long.
“That’s a good question. I really ought to give that some thought.”
“If I should…if I should go my own way…” Jin began.
And there it was; Jin was making his exit strategy. She didn’t want to hear him say it. If he didn’t say it, then she didn’t have to believe it was happening.
“You know, I really don’t want to think about stuff like that. If you did, then Mugen would…”
She was trying to hold on but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. It was happening already and she couldn’t stop the landslide now.
“When you leave, Mugen will have no reason to stay either. He’ll take off, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t left already.” Her last shred of hope in staying together was quickly dismantled by the fact that she had no right to expect or ask either of them to stay obligated to her now that their journey was almost over. How selfish she was still, even after they risked their lives countless times on their way here. She couldn’t help what she wanted but her guilt would not be abated either. “Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said and leaned in toward Jin. Her misery washed over her and the tears returned now that her will to keep them barely at bay had shattered like a glass case.
He let her rest her head against his chest. He let her cry. There was little comfort to offer her. This point in their journey came upon them more quickly than he was prepared to accept. In the beginning, he knew he would leave as soon as Fuu reached her destination. There was no brokering that deal. He was still seeking something even if that which he sought continued to elude him. He was broken, and wandering alone was the best he could do to keep whatever was left of him intact. Sharing himself meant sharing his brokenness; scattering and spreading the pieces of his sin across the surface of other people instead of gathering them together into something cohesive, something manageable. If he kept to himself, he could salvage something. Thus far he had been strong enough to continue to live with what he had done. Keeping his strength within would give him the control he needed to make it through each day.
But as their journey neared its end, there were days when he felt lighter, as if his burden lost some of its density. Fuu and Mugen knew about his past long before he told them. They found out through another source but they didn’t shun him or ask him to leave. Mugen may not have cared one way or another. That was just his way. And in some way that was comforting enough. Fuu, though she knew his master died by his hand, gave him the benefit of the doubt, going by what she knew of Jin now and not what he had done then. They never asked him why though he was sure they were curious. How could he tell them he killed his own master in self-defense? That Enshiro Mariya came at him in the night, nearly cutting Jin’s head from his body, presuming he lay in bed asleep. His own master, acting as assassin. He wouldn’t talk of his master that way, even if it somehow justified Jin’s actions. He didn’t believe it would so why would anyone else?
But here he came to it. He didn’t want to leave. Not just yet. He had never kept any connections with anyone for much longer than a few days since he left the dojo. And even then they were for odd end jobs here and there to earn some money for food and lodgings. But Fuu and Mugen – he walked with them, ate with them, bunked with them, imperiled each other’s lives and saved them. Willingly. Even though his master was with him every day since he lost his parents, this was different. He wasn’t under someone’s tutelage or obliged to stay for a wage. He was just allowed to be without being alone. He looked over at Mugen’s sleeping form as Fuu cried against him. He gently clasped her tiny shoulder with his right hand and, after what seemed like an eternity, spoke to her in a low voice.
“Fuu, do you really think that ill of Mugen?”
She sniffled once, twice, then looked up into Jin’s smooth face. She saw so much kindness there and also the sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes.
“No, I don’t think ill of Mugen for being Mugen. I’m just…well…I’m just sad that it would be so easy for him to walk away."
“If that were true, as you pointed out, he would already be gone.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Mugen was not used to having someone speak for him. He almost opened his mouth to spit out something along the lines of “get a room or shut up so I can sleep!” just to let them know he was awake and could hear everything, but he stopped himself. Fuu and Jin were both right. It should be easy for him to leave and yet, he was still there. He hadn’t really thought about what lay in store and was surprised that they were already so close to their final destination. At this rate, he may as well walk Fuu right up to that smelly samurai and hand delivery her or whatever. What, did she think he was just going to all of a sudden peel off and just walk away from them on the road? Hmmph. He didn’t suppose he could really blame her. Up until these two came along, he never tarried long with anything or anybody. Never felt the need. The longer he hung around people, they either wound up screwing him over or ended up dead. He’d survive as usual but he didn’t need to like it. But the longer he hung around these fools, this sort of thing wound up happening more often than not: The little brat would worry about him and hoity-toity over there would have Mugen’s back. Now Jin was doing it verbally. This wasn’t what he was used to and he certainly didn’t want to get used to it. He couldn’t afford to. It wouldn’t last. He was taken out of his reverie when Fuu started talking again.
“Jin?”
“Yes.”
Fuu stepped back a few inches away from Jin so she could look fully upon his face.
“Was it easy for you to leave?”
“Hm?”
“With Sara.”
“Ah.”
To Be Continued in Part 3
Samurai Champloo: Volume 7 Episode 24: Interstitial Interchange (Part 1)
Sometimes, Fuu wondered if all Mugen amounted to was being an out and out thug. She quickly pushed it aside, knowing (hoping) it wasn’t true. After all the time they had spent traveling together, she had certainly seen him act on the basest impulse of his depravity. But there were also those few moments that allowed a quick glimpse into his humanity. Most important was that he had some humanity left to glimpse, much to her relief. She wanted to hang onto those memories only and let the other disappointments be blown away like so much dander in the mid-day breeze; especially now, when there was little time left between them. She let out a sigh and looked at Jin whose usual stoic expression toward his warrior companion couldn’t wholly veil the wonder…nor the smidgen of disgust. She almost chuckled but caught herself. She needed to focus…to really listen…to remember every word and the smoothness of their faces that was captured in the flickering of the campfire while they spoke.
“Okay, Jin, you go next. So…what were you doing before you met the two of us?” she prompted.
Jin turned his attention to Fuu. That steady, calm gaze often disarmed her. She never knew what he was thinking at any given moment. His tone of voice hardly wavered let alone his expression and the stillness belied the explosive power that was just under the surface but he was the master of it. The only thing she could be sure of was that Jin would likely be thinking the opposite of whatever Mugen was about to fire off. But tonight was something new. They’d never just sat around and talked about themselves or their past. It found ways to come back and find them, to be sure, sometimes with tragic results, but they were now actively making that connection of their own will. Jin took an almost imperceptible intake of air.
“I had been traveling a long time. I lost my parents while I was still a child and was left in the care of the Muju Shin kenjutsu dojo.”
Jin’s attention slid to the campfire, watching as the fire popped and snapped while it devoured the wood and cooked the fish. It brought the distant sound and memory of bokutos clacking together during practices to the forefront of his mind.
“However,” Jin continued, “ever since I was a child, I did nothing but train in kenjutsu day in and day out. I had always been alone. And soon, none of the other children were a match for me. They all feared me, were jealous of me, and did their best to shun me.”
Jin closed his eyes then and his mouth became set in a thin, grim line. This was as much information as Fuu and Mugen had ever heard about Jin from Jin himself. They weren’t sure if he was going to continue talking or if that was all he was going to share, but neither interjected. They waited. The fire’s crackle and the cricket’s song seemed to be taking over where his words had trailed off. Jin heard the voice of his master, the man who had cared for him as a father would, and in the end, the man he had swiftly driven his katana blade through.
“Jin. Your eyes see too much. Your strength has no grounding. That means your strength is strength that exists for no one but yourself.”
For whom should that strength exist, if not for myself? He had often wondered after that night. He still did not know the answer. And his master was now dead and could not teach him more upon the matter. Jin opened his eyes again, focusing on the dancing flames, unable to look directly upon his companions at that moment. They waited.
“Eventually, I was made to bear the shame of killing my master…and was driven from the dojo. I was on the road ever since that day, traveling in search of something. But even I had no idea what it was that I was searching for. It may be that I was simply…running away.”
Mugen turned his gaze toward the fire knowing Jin would say no more. He knew Jin was a lot of things – a smug pain in the ass, for one – but a coward he was not. There weren’t many men or women he considered his equal, or better, in skill and he never believed in his recent travels that he would meet one, let alone two such people. Sara was like no one he’d ever met and doubted he ever would again. The only reason he was still alive was because she’d held back. He’d be rotting as two separate pieces of Mugen filet if she hadn’t pulled her killing blow. She’d still be alive as well. She wanted to die and he gave her what she desired, unwittingly. What a waste of a great fighter…and a great bod, he thought. Jin may not have been a match for her either but at least he survived her attack using his wits or whatever people wanted to call it. Mugen would have eaten it big time had Fuu not thrown herself over him at his first encounter, begging Sara for his life. Humiliating. Whatever. Only Fuu was stupid enough to want to save his hide.
So Sara was one. Mugen was quickly realizing that Jin was the other one – his equal…maybe even his better.
Nah.
But the guy knew how to use a sword, that was for sure. It wasn’t anything like his own style but then again, maybe that’s why Jin was able to counter him at every pass. He glanced at Fuu. She looked as if she wanted to ask Jin the same question that was forming in his own mind, now that he felt like giving a crap about it. Why the hell did Jin kill his own master? He didn’t seem the type. It was the million-ryo question. Hell, even Jin seemed confused about it. But now was not the time.
Mugen turned to Fuu. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Mm,” she replied with a nod and began to speak of her mother’s brief life and how she had told Fuu that her father was actually alive.
Jin watched Fuu as she recounted the last moments of her mother’s life and her promise to make sure her father would be on the receiving end of a good slugging for making her mother suffer. For making her suffer. Jin was trained daily since he was a child, in focus and in discipline. But Fuu had no formal training, no instruction, no master to guide her. She made a promise and she meant to keep it, no matter the obstacles. It is what made her throw her lot in with two complete strangers and travel such a great distance on the slim chance of finding a man who, until recently, had no name. Jin had noted her sense of duty before. It had almost gotten her killed on several occasions. It surprised him to find this quality, almost to a fault, in someone so young and without formal tutelage. He had been taught the meaning and honor in duty and he believed in it. But Fuu seemed instilled with it. Her mother would be proud, he thought. He hoped, in some way, her father would be as well.
As she spoke, the weight of her choices continued to press down on her. Mugen and Jin were the only family she’d had in some time. And by the light of day, she would have to say goodbye to the little sense of security that had been cultivating inside of her. They had been strangers…killers, even…but she trusted them with her life and with the promise she’d made to her mother. They, in their own way, rewarded her trust tenfold. She was alive and she had made it this far because of them. Only them. And they had faced death and so much pain along the way. And for what? For her? The weight of it was crushing her, almost drilling her into the ground now. She had asked Jin to escort Sara and he almost lost his life because of her foolish gamble. He nearly died because of her ill-conceived presumption that he would stay whereas Mugen would bail. Why had she expected Jin to stay? She asked him to go with Sara and he respected her wishes. Of course he would. But it had hurt terribly even if she could bring herself to accept it. The moments when she couldn’t find any sign of Jin were unbearable. Then Mugen. She had only just made it in time to stave Sara off. She was so confused. She didn’t understand why they were fighting each other at the time. Why was Sara so determined to rip away the only two people that mattered to Fuu? Weren’t they all friends?
No. They weren’t all friends. She had thrown Jin to the wolves. In this case, a highly trained government assassin she-wolf. Mugen wasn’t about to let her just walk away either and he paid dearly for it. For the first time he faced an opponent that was beyond him and that idea alone was almost too much to accept. The time to forfeit his life came swiftly after that but at least Fuu was there to stop it in time, which was the least she could do after she had failed Jin so miserably. Sure, she had saved them from being executed that fateful day they first met. At least she thought so. But how many times had she put them on the chopping block thereafter, all so she could do the big “shame on you” at her long-lost father; a man she wasn’t even sure she’d ever find. It was all of a sudden so unfair. She had asked for too much. And it was going to stop.
“Thank you. Thank you both for coming all this way with me.”
If Jin had ever heard resignation in someone’s voice, this was it.
To Be Continued…
4/6/10
Samurai Champloo: Volume 7Episode 24: Interstitial Interchange (Part 2)
He had always been a light sleeper. Growing up in a dojo, no one made a noise unless it was meant to be heard. So when the other students were caught not being careful enough to step soundlessly on the wooden floors in the hallway or on the tatami mats in his room as they tried to ambush him in his sleep, Jin made sure they would know to be more silent next time or not even try at all. He never tried to hurt any of his peers who lashed out at him but their bruises were easily explained the next day by way of overzealousness during katas. He didn’t need to tattle and they didn’t want to get caught. They healed, planned, and tried again. It was not all of the students, just a handful who could not understand why Jin was so favored. During the day, they barely looked at him. But some nights, they were all the more eager to get to him. They would soon learn. Their attempts to catch him unawares were few and far between so as to remain unpredictable and this made him ever vigilant. He became highly aware even as he dozed, hearing the slightest snap of twig from a distance away, the gentle rustling of leaves, the uneven breathing of the students next door. If he awoke, he just as easily was able to fall back asleep.
In a strange twist of Fate, he had his fellow students to thank for that night he woke a few seconds before a deadly katana blade came down and sliced his bedding into ribbons. After years of heightening his senses both day and night, he was more than ready for the attack. His own sword flashed out from its sheath knowing that this intruder was not playing around with a bokuto but a real blade sharp enough to cut into human flesh with only an ounce of pressure. This was serious. Dangerous. This foe was much faster than any of the students could dream of being but even then, his movements were slow compared to Jin’s. Three advances later, his master was staggering backwards with Jin’s sword stuck cleanly through his gut. The last words of encouragement Jin would ever hear from his master were uttered before he pulled the sword from his own dying body and bled out onto Jin’s tatami floor.
Jin opened his eyes. He didn’t wake up because of the dream. That was something he lived with daily. He woke due to noises coming from near the riverbed. He quickly looked over at Mugen who was sleeping soundly. Fuu’s mat was empty. He raised his head to look toward the river and saw Fuu sitting there near the edge, her small form hunched over at the shoulders. Even in the low moonlight he could see her movements were familiar. It reminded him of when he found her at the bridge, the night before she had asked him to escort Sara to find her son.
Fuu didn’t hear him approach or realize that he was standing just beside her, watching as she wiped her tears away with her sleeves. Whether or not his fellow students at the dojo learned how to be silent, he did.
“Is something the matter?” Jin asked, knowing very well something was.
Jin. How did he catch her at these moments? How did he know to ask when something was the matter only when there was a great deal the matter? She stood as naturally as she could and wiped away the remnants of her concerns from her face as if she were just brushing away a stray lash, still unable to look at him.
“No, it’s nothing. Nothing,” she said, sounding as nonchalant as possible. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” Divert, divert.
“Fuu…”
“Hm?” she chirped and turned her face up to him, smiling. She rarely ever heard him say her name. It was almost a whisper, the way he said it in that quiet way of his. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing him talk but to hear her name spoken seemed like such an intimate thing because it was so rare. This thought was quickly tempered by the realization that she may never get the chance to hear it again after this night. She refused to let her countenance fall.
Jin’s expression was unchanged, steady and even, all the while she beamed at him. “Once you find the Sunflower Samurai, what do you intend to do after that?”
She let it fall. Turning her gaze back to the rolling river, she let out her breath. She hadn’t realized she had been holding it, somehow trying to use it to bolster her wholly conjured demeanor. That didn’t last too long.
“That’s a good question. I really ought to give that some thought.”
“If I should…if I should go my own way…” Jin began.
And there it was; Jin was making his exit strategy. She didn’t want to hear him say it. If he didn’t say it, then she didn’t have to believe it was happening.
“You know, I really don’t want to think about stuff like that. If you did, then Mugen would…”
She was trying to hold on but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. It was happening already and she couldn’t stop the landslide now.
“When you leave, Mugen will have no reason to stay either. He’ll take off, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t left already.” Her last shred of hope in staying together was quickly dismantled by the fact that she had no right to expect or ask either of them to stay obligated to her now that their journey was almost over. How selfish she was still, even after they risked their lives countless times on their way here. She couldn’t help what she wanted but her guilt would not be abated either. “Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said and leaned in toward Jin. Her misery washed over her and the tears returned now that her will to keep them barely at bay had shattered like a glass case.
He let her rest her head against his chest. He let her cry. There was little comfort to offer her. This point in their journey came upon them more quickly than he was prepared to accept. In the beginning, he knew he would leave as soon as Fuu reached her destination. There was no brokering that deal. He was still seeking something even if that which he sought continued to elude him. He was broken, and wandering alone was the best he could do to keep whatever was left of him intact. Sharing himself meant sharing his brokenness; scattering and spreading the pieces of his sin across the surface of other people instead of gathering them together into something cohesive, something manageable. If he kept to himself, he could salvage something. Thus far he had been strong enough to continue to live with what he had done. Keeping his strength within would give him the control he needed to make it through each day.
But as their journey neared its end, there were days when he felt lighter, as if his burden lost some of its density. Fuu and Mugen knew about his past long before he told them. They found out through another source but they didn’t shun him or ask him to leave. Mugen may not have cared one way or another. That was just his way. And in some way that was comforting enough. Fuu, though she knew his master died by his hand, gave him the benefit of the doubt, going by what she knew of Jin now and not what he had done then. They never asked him why though he was sure they were curious. How could he tell them he killed his own master in self-defense? That Enshiro Mariya came at him in the night, nearly cutting Jin’s head from his body, presuming he lay in bed asleep. His own master, acting as assassin. He wouldn’t talk of his master that way, even if it somehow justified Jin’s actions. He didn’t believe it would so why would anyone else?
But here he came to it. He didn’t want to leave. Not just yet. He had never kept any connections with anyone for much longer than a few days since he left the dojo. And even then they were for odd end jobs here and there to earn some money for food and lodgings. But Fuu and Mugen – he walked with them, ate with them, bunked with them, imperiled each other’s lives and saved them. Willingly. Even though his master was with him every day since he lost his parents, this was different. He wasn’t under someone’s tutelage or obliged to stay for a wage. He was just allowed to be without being alone. He looked over at Mugen’s sleeping form as Fuu cried against him. He gently clasped her tiny shoulder with his right hand and, after what seemed like an eternity, spoke to her in a low voice.
“Fuu, do you really think that ill of Mugen?”
She sniffled once, twice, then looked up into Jin’s smooth face. She saw so much kindness there and also the sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes.
“No, I don’t think ill of Mugen for being Mugen. I’m just…well…I’m just sad that it would be so easy for him to walk away."
“If that were true, as you pointed out, he would already be gone.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Mugen was not used to having someone speak for him. He almost opened his mouth to spit out something along the lines of “get a room or shut up so I can sleep!” just to let them know he was awake and could hear everything, but he stopped himself. Fuu and Jin were both right. It should be easy for him to leave and yet, he was still there. He hadn’t really thought about what lay in store and was surprised that they were already so close to their final destination. At this rate, he may as well walk Fuu right up to that smelly samurai and hand delivery her or whatever. What, did she think he was just going to all of a sudden peel off and just walk away from them on the road? Hmmph. He didn’t suppose he could really blame her. Up until these two came along, he never tarried long with anything or anybody. Never felt the need. The longer he hung around people, they either wound up screwing him over or ended up dead. He’d survive as usual but he didn’t need to like it. But the longer he hung around these fools, this sort of thing wound up happening more often than not: The little brat would worry about him and hoity-toity over there would have Mugen’s back. Now Jin was doing it verbally. This wasn’t what he was used to and he certainly didn’t want to get used to it. He couldn’t afford to. It wouldn’t last. He was taken out of his reverie when Fuu started talking again.
“Jin?”
“Yes.”
Fuu stepped back a few inches away from Jin so she could look fully upon his face.
“Was it easy for you to leave?”
“Hm?”
“With Sara.”
“Ah.”
To Be Continued in Part 3
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