Sunflowers

How do I end this tale? Shall I relate the many days and nights Fu was tended by those who loved her most until she was well enough in body and soul to live again? Should I regale you with the many stories of Mugen's high adventures working for Isaac traveling the world, or how Jin found a place teaching martial combat to the European nobility visiting Holland? No. I will tell you the story of Mikono and the field of sunflowers.

Simply, no one in the prison had expected Fu to live. Days and weeks leading to what should have been her execution had left her body forfeit to any who wished to satisfy carnal lusts. Who is to say the name of the sire of the child she was carrying? Had Mugen not insisted she eaten and Jin not ensured she was carried to the upper decks each day for sunlight, perhaps Fu might have forgotten in her waking mind the tortures she'd endured. No. That is a child's hope. There would have been no forgetting, and had Mikono not flowered within her mother's womb, there would have been no forgiveness.

Mikono was born in the summer. Her mother could not touch her at first. The labor had been easy, and the child was small, but strong. Her lungs, at least, were robust.

"She is hungry, Fu," Jin said softly, holding the mewling infant gently against his chest. "She must eat."

Mugen watched from the window as Fu turned her back on the child. She had started getting better. She had been eating and filling out again, and then she had more than filled out. He'd watched her grow with a kind of aching admiration that welled up inside his stomach and made him want to laugh and vomit at once. She was simply so beautiful round with child, and he could not help but imagine the child was his. He ached for the little girl to be his. If Fu would only embrace her, he would claim the baby as his and raise her and give her his name, for what it was worth.

The ronin stood and sat on the edge of her bed and watched her press her eyes closed and cover her ears. The baby only squalled more, shaking and choking on her tears. "Fu," he began and watched the girl begin to shake with sobs. He looked up and stared at Mugen who was pretending so diligently that he could not see or hear everything. "You are both fools."

Jin stood and walked from the room, holding Mikono against his chest. She continued to squall as he made his way to the kitchen and warmed a bowl of milk, then found a small rag. He carried the infant and the milk to the garden and sat overlooking a thousand bobbing heads of orange and gold. "They are both fools…" He whispered to the whimpering baby girl and gently rested her on his thighs as he dipped the cloth into the milk and fed her in slow drops. As she opened her eyes and stared up at her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. "Such fools… You are perfect…"

He watched the ronin and the infant from the window, the sobs of her mother soft and constant from the bed. He knew he was right about being foolish. How many nights had he wanted to tell her he didn't care? How much had that damaged what should have been a right and perfect love for her own child?

"There are things I've never told you," he began softly, but did not turn to see if she was listening. He knew she was. "Stupid, I know, but they ain't the kind of things you really talk about… Like, my mother killed herself after she was gang raped by a bunch of Shogunate soldiers and I got my prison tats for killing one of the men that did it when I was only ten or so… Or that… When we all nearly died finding your dad, I knew then that those bastards had hurt you," he turned just enough to meet her sparkling eyes and felt his whole body shudder for the pain that he saw there. "Fu, I don't give a fuck what's happened to you. You're still all fire and spunk and perfect… You don't take my shit or Jin's shit, and you know our hearts better than we'll ever know ourselves."

"Mugen," his name sounded like surrender in her voice.

He turned to face her fully and then squatted at the edge of her bed, reaching his long arm to push her matted hair from her brow. "She's gonna be a spit-fire like her mother… And Jin and me, we're gonna love her as if she belongs to us, because she does. Don't you dare make her wonder if you love her, too… Don't you leave her wondering the way he did to you… The way your dad did… You know she'll always ache for it, and then you'll really never forgive yourself."

She nodded and he moved onto the bed, gathering her form into his embrace. Her body felt molded for his and he smiled as she clung to him.

Mikono raced up the path to the cottage on the hill. Her father walked slowly behind, chuckling as she raced back to him when she felt she had gotten too far ahead. Finally, she grabbed his fingers and pulled him with her.

"Papa's home!" She beamed up at him with the same perfect, bright eyes. "See! His shirt's on the line!"

Jin looked up and saw Mugen step from the cottage holding to his pipe and blowing rings of smoke into the sky. Mikono released his fingers upon seeing him and raced to the pirate only to be caught and swung into a tight hug. Her giggles and laughter were like music, only slightly louder than the soft cries of the babe by the hearth inside.

Fu looked out the open door as she lifted the infant boy into her embrace and smiled at the sight of them in the bright summer sun. Beyond, the sea of sunflowers swayed and their scent… Who is to say there is no scent? It is all that reminds you of warm safe places, long journeys, and the blissful sadness of crossroads and endings.