The wrong hands were touching her, she consented, her body writhing violently beneath the larger one above. This touch felt all wrong.

She grunted and groaned with the effort, trying her hardest to throw her attacker off, to no avail. His hands still sneaked up the hem of her kimono and fumbled with the knot of her obi. When she screamed, those hands hit her until she was silent once more.

Of all the times I've been kidnapped, she thought, of all the times I've been taken and used as bait, this is a first. Never before, surprisingly enough, had a man ever thought to use her as more than just bait. She had, until recently, attributed it to her lack of curves.

Now she just thought all men were idiots.

"Get off of me!" She seethed through her teeth, bucking her hips in yet another attempt to throw him off. He was twice her size, though, and wouldn't budge. Swinging one leg over her slim hips, he held her down with his weight, making it much harder for her to breathe, and impossible for her to scream again.

"No!" He refusal was followed by an inebriated giggle very uncharacteristic of a bulky, tough-looking man such as him.

"If you don't get off of me, I swear, I'll—"

"You'll what?" His breath stank of sake as he leaned in to her face, pressing his nose to hers, daring another threat.

She bit her lip in defeat. There were few things she hated more than losing.

This happened to be one of them.

I've been kidnapped ten thousand times! She exaggerated. And this has to be the one time that neither Mugen nor Jin can find me. She wanted to shriek in frustration. They'd never taken this long before. When he'd first pinned her down, she'd felt nothing but impatience—they'd usually come for her by then. Then, his hands roamed. Still, she felt nothing but annoyance.

Now, his hands roamed, becoming more adventurous, treading on dangerous ground.

That's my naughty-spot! She wanted to scream. She settled for grunting again and kicking her legs, trying to hit the back of his head.

He laughed again.

Where the hell is Mugen?

There was a sharp pain as he began to pinch, leaving small bruises up and down her legs. She sucked her teeth; with the hem of her kimono newly torn, those would be impossible to hide, and she'd have to walk around looking like a trollop until she could buy a new one.

Then, the electric pinches stopped altogether, and the weight was lifted from her. Instantly, as reflexively, she sat up, covering herself to the best of her ability with what little fabric was left of her clothing.

"Mugen!"

The vagabond didn't turn at the sound of her cry. His attention was focused on the scum being ground into the damp ground by the heel of his steel-lined geta.

"Piece of shit!" he spat. "You're the billionth guy to try something with her. Can't you be more original?"

He was being sarcastic, facetious, obnoxious to the untrained ear, but Fuu could tell there was real rage beneath his snarky remarks.

"You're not even worth my sword." And with that parting message, Mugen kicked the would-be-rapist in the temple, effectively knocking him out. Fuu peered intently at the immobile body, but couldn't tell if he was dead or not. She decided she didn't care. She'd seen Mugen kill men for much lesser offenses.

Wild eyes turned toward her, and she suddenly felt much more naked under his gaze. With three huge steps he was at her side, crouching down to her level, staring at her, brow furrowed, lip puckered in dissatisfaction at his fight.

"You stupid bitch!" He shouted. Fuu had come to learn not to flinch when he raised his voice. "If you had to get kidnapped again couldn't you at least get dragged off by someone tougher than this dumb fuck?" He jerked his thumb in the direction of the still man.

"Yeah, I'll remember that next time I'm getting felt up in a dark alley!" She shouted back. "I'll be sure to ask if he's enough of a hardass to be worth your time. Oh, and I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking!" Indignant, Fuu stood—ignoring the kind hand Mugen extended to her—fixed her clothes the best she could, and stalked off to find Jin; the one person who didn't annoy her these days.

The clunk-clunk of his geta was the only response. She allowed him two second to catch up—more than he needed with his insanely long stride—and sauntered alongside her, throwing glances her way every so often, unbeknownst to the small girl.

She was angry, he noticed. Not scared, upset, traumatized. Angry.

At him? At the other guy?

"Hey…" he said, studying her face. "Are you crying?" His tone was disgusted, but his true emotion was surprise. She'd cried before, but not since the first dozen kidnappings. And Mugen had never been a sympathetic person, and never had been able to stand the sound of a woman crying.

"No!" the girl screamed, wiping her eyes furiously with the heels of her hands. "I'm not!" She sped up a bit. He matched her pace easily, and circled her, ducking his head to get a look at her face.

"You are!" She translated this as "ew".

"Forgive me for being upset," she said. "But I was just kidnapped, groped by a stranger, near raped and then verbally abused by my dear, dear traveling companion. It must seem so stupid to you that my feelings are hurt!"

They were now far from the hills and on the outskirts of the town. Being nighttime, she was prepared for the looks she was receiving from men, what with her skirt torn up to an indecent point. She ignored them, crossing her arms over her chest to keep her obi on, and stalked through the streets, head held high, and oblivious to the looks Mugen shot each and every man who even looked like he was going to make a move.

"Well, it's not like this is something new, how the hell should I know you're upset? I would've figured you were used to this by now!"

He kept close to her as she navigated the streets with skill. Had she been to this town before?

Getting closer to the shack they were "borrowing," she slowed down her pace to a near-crawl, her eyes on her feet which shuffled—shoeless—through the dirt. Only weak sniffling came from her now.

"Oh, shit." Mugen groaned. Being the only person in sight, and not knowing the whereabouts of Jin, he was the only person to listen to her whine. He debated with himself; run off now, find a hooker and some booze, or leave her and let her cry some more, then annoy the hell out of him later when she ignored him or conveniently "forgot" to feed him. Sighing, he admitted defeat—a rare occurrence.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I just…" she cut off a moment, gathered her thoughts and sucked in a few ragged breaths. "I just thought I deserved a little better than that. It seems that the only guys I ever meet—no matter how nice they start off—always turn out to be creeps in the end. With ulterior motives. Some sort of agenda they think they can…" she heaved a shuddering sigh and trailed off. Then swung her head up to him, eyes wide and innocent. "Am I really that awful?"

Mugen had no idea how to respond. He hated crying women. He hated women who talked at all—unless it was dirty talk—so he didn't have any experience with consoling. He always pushed her off on Jin when she got whiny and sentimental like this.

But now he was alone. It was up to him. He had one shot. To be sweet. Nice. All the things he wasn't.

One big, dirty hand moved to ruffle her hair. He couldn't meet her eyes as she stared at him, desperate for some flattering word to hang onto, to convince herself that she wasn't total trash.

"You've got me," was all he said. Then he thought better of it and added "and Jin. We're not creeps."

And then, lest the tender moment last a second too long and be misinterpreted—he wasn't ready for that to happen, no matter how he felt about the girl—he let his hand drop and started off in the direction of their lodgings, leaving her to trail behind.

A small smile flicked across her face as she realized the truth of his words. While the pair weren't exactly conventional—they were violent, drunken, violent gambling addicts—deep down she knew that he was right. No matter their shallow exteriors, they never had been (and never would be) creeps.

At least, not to her.