The moon was waxing - somewhere past a perfect semi-circle, but not yet approaching the rotundness poets and lovers paid particular attention - but in the cloudless night it was bright enough to fool a tired pair of eyes into believing it to be full.

Jin was not yet that weary, though he was getting close.

The gentle wind that had yet to discover an escape from its hilly cage seemed exceptionally chilly on his recently warmed skin. Slender and stiff fingers fumbled his kimono further up a hunched shoulder.

Time had a way of eluding him in the baths.

After a quiet dinner and a respectful visit to the woman at the produce stand, Jin had wondered around in search of news and come up empty-handed. At that juncture he had considered simply returning home and attempting to sleep off the creeping anxiety brought on by a lack of work and a surplus of tranquility, however, not twenty paces from the town gate he had happened to catch sight of the rosy back of the insufferable vagrant in the shadows of an alley. After pausing for a moment to consider all of his options, Jin had made towards the alley with the intention of catching Mugen's attention and lessening the frequent loneliness of the walk home. A slight shift in position on the preoccupied Mugen's part allowed Jin to see further into the narrow, previously eclipsed passage.

There was a woman. Of course there was a woman.

Any desire to return home instantly evaporated under the heat of a peculiar and sickening burning sensation in his chest. It was the magistrate's daughter, the girl Fuu had been captured with so many weeks ago. While the samurai stood frozen in the street struggling to identify and quench the new scalding emotion, he was noticed by the young woman and pointed out to Mugen, who turned to find a steadily retreating back he'd been acquainted with since the day they first met.

An abrupt clarity and purpose soothed whatever was raging its way to his guts and Jin knew instantly that his problems, if there even were any, would be instantly solved by a visit to the baths. Now, plodding along the stony road home, it was quite clear that the visit had been a tad on the long side and he was now paying for it with an ill reaction to the nippy night air. For a time that numbered well beyond those worth counting, Jin stubbornly tugged his kimono up against the will of gravity.

What would Fuu say?

Really, this was something beneath him, Jin blearily and begrudgingly reflected. While childish jealousy- if that had indeed been the molten feeling he'd encountered that evening- was absolutely in Mugen's character, he had truly thought himself immune from such ridiculous diseases of the mind and body. As the two were connected, the steamy bath had been, as he'd predicted, the perfect antidote to such spiritual poison, but still. He was disappointed, and moreover felt that that little bit of Fuu that kept house within him was disappointed too.

There were two different prompts for his inner-Fuu's reaction: either he should have been unaffected by the idea of Mugen simply being who he was and taking a woman to an alleyway, should have been completely comfortable with this entirely unsurprising constant of their rapport, or he should have been open and aggressive enough in the first place to make Mugen discover that he no longer had need for other sources of physical pleasure.

He scowled deeply at this train of thought, eyes screwed shut to the path his feet already knew so well.

Friend was good, friend was fine. Friend was not at all a bad place to be. But he had been developing a feeling of ownership, at the very least responsibility, for Mugen.

His Mugen.

It made sense if he worked backwards from where they were now to the first time they crossed blades. Though not in so many words, they had essentially promised their lives to each other in promising one another their deaths.

"Hmm."

Thinking of it in those terms made it sound like he and the reproachable creature were married. At last the shack, looking every bit as bitter with the weather as Jin was, appeared over the rolls of the hills. All he had to do now was make it through the gate, into the front door, across the living room and then land somewhere close to the futon. The world would be a simpler place in the morning, he was sure.

But what would Fuu say?

These were the types of things only she could properly understand, and, Jin realized as he made several futile attempts to unlatch the gate before finally meeting success and pushing through, he did not have long to wait before this question could be answered.

The door responded much more smoothly to his weight and within seconds he was across the floor and sliding open the entrance to the sleeping space. Mugen was where he'd expected him to be, splayed out across the entire futon with no regard for the firm and clear explanation of the "sides rule" Jin and introduced on night one. It was comfortingly constant (if obnoxious) ritual rule breaching.

The ronin kneeled at the one corner not occupied by one of Mugen's limbs in order to carefully tuck his hair over a shoulder as a safeguard against accidental pulling and then folded himself into the available space.

What started out as a light touch turned into a determined clench and Jin's eyes were jarred open as he was forced to his back. Infallible survival instincts functioning even under the suffocating presence of sleep, Jin became aware enough to react in time to use the momentum of his attacker's movement to roll them both to their sides and then find his feet. Although his vision was far from adjusted, the slight sheen of moonlight painting the bedroom was enough to illuminate his enemy.

Mugen wasted no time on standing, but flopped to his shoulders and came with his legs aloft and spinning in pursuit.

Unable to block such accelerated blows, the bleary ronin did nothing but stagger backwards across the cot and onto the floor where his back me the wall sooner than expected. More by chance than on purpose, Jin dodged the final flailing kick by tripping over his hakama and crawling until he found the door with his bent head. The draft from a series of kicks that failed to connect prompted Jin to neglect his now throbbing cranium in favor of using both hands to fling the slidable roadblock ajar and then stumble into some semblance of a defensive stance in time to catch a downward slice of the leg and jerk Mugen off balance.

In the seconds it took for the verily thrown offense to walk Jin's deflection out, a dim mantra embedded itself in Jin's immediate train of thoughts: get in close, get in close, get in close.

Still operating virtually blindly, Jin advanced in order to limit Mugen's range and therefore his possible means of attack. Clearly his adversary sensed his strategy as he abridged a second barrage of kicks by doubling their distance with a backwards collapse-turned-handstand and then roughly slid open the second panel that separated the two rooms and escaped into the bedroom.

Anthem of attack still pounding along with the lingering sting of his collision with the door, Jin paused in his pursuit to procure a suitable weapon in the stead of his katana, which he was vaguely aware would not easily be acquired at this point.

Moments later found Mugen throwing himself into a backwards bridge, barely missing the shaft of their broom as Jin swept it in a low arc through the air. The now disadvantaged combatant remedied his situation by coming up to his squatting battle stance sheet in hand. As Mugen ducked the following swipes of the domestic tool-turned-weapon, he managed to twist one end of the bedding into a tight, thin whip-like defense mechanism.

The next slash of the broom handle was caught by the semi-taut rope which Mugen then attempted to loop around the hilt, forcing Jin to retreat or lose his temporary weapon. A quickly tied knot transformed the sheet into a cloth-flail and with the weighted end Mugen lashed out wildly, backing Jin towards the wall for a second time.

The ronin halted at the end of the futon and purposefully allowed the broom to become entangled in the sheet, looping around it multiple times with the momentum of the blow. Mugen growled waking Jin from his brief stupor of surprise.

He tugged the joined weapons towards him with as much force as his still slumbering muscles allowed, brining Mugen along. Just as the two midnight combatants were about to collide, Mugen brought the bulk of the sheet that had hung loose and untwisted up between far-spaced hands, then over and around Jin, yanking them chest to chest.

Before Jin's mind could process this new development in the battle, he found himself on the futon, eye to eye with the panting vagrant.

The fight was over.

Jin wiggled sharply to create enough space for him to fold his hands between them and felt their heartbeats continue the duel. Mugen swallowed and glared, making sure the silent samurai was looking at him.

"I wasn't doing anything with that chick, Jin."

The addressed party allowed a feeling to slit through his Bushido like the light cut through the curtains, just this once, just tonight. Because the moon was almost full and he was still tired. Mugen watched the deeply set scowl soften.

"Okay."

"Not that I wouldn't, but the idea didn't occur to me until just now."

Honesty was always (sometimes) the best policy.

"Hm."

"She was giving me a letter from Fuu and asking me about a side job. That's all."

"What did the letter say?"

"Tch!" Mugen released the sheet holding them together, but neither one moved. "Just a sentence or two saying she'll be here in exactly five days. Crazy bitch…"

"Hm. It's good to know precisely. We can get the house ready and be sure to buy extra groceries."

"Ey."

"Is this why you woke me up?"

Jin rolled to his other side, settling in to return to sleep. His eyes had been closed for mere fractions of seconds when an intruding hand brushed his ankle and then firm and unbending fingers took a hold of one of his feet.

"Nope."

Instinctively, he rolled over to right this incredible wrong only to find his back to the futon with Mugen on top of him for the second time that night.

"I woke you up 'cause your feet were cold."

"I see."

"I fixed it."

"Hm."

Round two would have no losers.

Author's Note: Crime Number Three? Cold feet, Jin! (though my at-home-beta believes misleading your housemate by conversing with women in alleyways and ignoring the "sides rule" were both much bigger crimes...I agree, but it was Jin's turn to be at fault XD)

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Homicidal urges? Put it to me in a review, my peeps!

A thousand thank yous for reading!!!

-bows-

-S