CHAPTER - One - Earliest Memories

RATING - T - Some mild violence/bad language/sexual content

PAIRINGS - Mugen x Fuu

NOTE - Don't own Samurai Champloo

Mugen returned to his inadequate sleeping quarters. He didn't take in much consideration for his spitefulness towards Fuu. Why should he care what others think? It's not his problem. The only one he can trust is himself and that's how it's been since he could understand the meaning of those words. Life has its choices and throughout his life he's had to make choices whether to kill or be killed. That is how the damned world works: kill or be killed—that is answer. He stuck to that motto like it was glued to his soul. It will never cease to leave him.

But Mugen wasn't thinking about death as he lay back down. Quiet the opposite actually. Life was something Mugen rarely discussed to himself about—especially when it was associated with him. Sure he hated it, in all its pitiful glory. Yet, he couldn't get away from the idea of bringing up his past. All those memories of that ungrateful time on those hell stricken islands known as Ryukyu wouldn't leave. Even so, throughout the madness there were memories he was unwilling to forget.

I guess I should start from the beginning, huh?

Mugen's POV:

The first place I can vividly remember was a town covered in fire. As if Satan himself had come out from the depths of hell to pollute the land with his fury. Men were calling out while being slaughtered, women were screaming while being raped and the haunting sound of a drum rumbling mingled in the ash ridden air. There was no way that any other part of the world could compare to this.

I never had a father—if I did then he was never around. As for a mother, well whoever she was to have gone through the painful process of bring a damn thing like me into this world I assume she didn't live long afterward. I can't blame her. Who would want a scumbag piece-of-shit like me around? Wow, insulting others seemed so casual, but when I turn those words on myself I feel this intense sensation coil around my throat. It's suffocating to the point where I may just burst out crying like a baby.

Baby.

Come to think of it, unlike most kids who can't remember the first thing they saw, their first words or first steps I can recall everything. I guess coming from a hellhole such as Ryukyu you need to keep those memories alive, they may save your ass—considering they're the reasons between life and death. If you can't see you can't fight. If you can't talk you can't negotiate. If you can't walk then you can't run.

Like I had said before—the first place I can vividly remember was a town covered in fire. My first words…probably something like; "Oh shit!" My first steps were interrupted by buckling knees. I nearly collapsed and realized the extent of my injures. Blood soaked into my shirt, drenching it in a foreign color combined by a mixture of red and grayish brown. Although fear was wrapping around me this kind of situation was something I had grown accustomed to.

Blood was like a lifestyle. Wake up in it, breathe in it, and sleep in it. It was either like a bug you couldn't swat off or a best friend you couldn't ignore. Blood was always with me. It was the meaning of life and when I saw it spurt out of a fallen victim I knew there was little chance they'd get back up.

My club was battered. It had taken a beating from the continuous act of slamming it against the head of some evil bastard. When I first stole it, it was even bigger than my arms combined. Now it had shrunken down to the size of only one arm. I knew it wasn't going to last another good maul. I needed a new weapon.

Whilst darting past raiders who were busy stealing women and valuables, I managed to come across a sheathed tantō lying in one of the vacant houses. I was quick enough to escape before the roof caved in above me. Success, a new weapon worthy of use—at least for a little while until something better appeared.

"Hey what the hell are you doing brat?"

I turned my attention towards an ugly man who had that blood-thirsty look in his eye that he wanted to kill me. I was absolutely right. He swung at me with his axe but I dodged in time to counterattack. He was dead within seconds.

The commotion attracted more of the ugly man's pals to the scene. One included their boss who was a big-ass guy both in height and in size. He seemed impressed by my actions. The expression on his fat-ass face read approval.

"Not bad kid. Nice clean kill. How's about you join our gang, what do ya' say?"

I paused for a moment. In a weak voice I asked, "Will there be food?"

The brute guffawed. "I like ya' kid." He moved closer to examine me. "Even though you've been cut up pretty good none of it seems to faze you. How old are ya' anyway?"

"Nine, I think."

There was a brief uproar of gasps.

"Hmm, you'll be the youngest of us all. Got a name?"

I shook my head.

"We'll figure that out later then." He reached out his sausage-of-a-hand to me. "Welcome to the crew, kid."

Author's Note:

Hope you liked it! I realize this is shorter than the previous one but I prefer writing each chapter shorter and quicker release rather than lengthy and have a longer wait. Well looks like Mugen's got himself into a pretty deep situation. I'm kind of excited to start things out with his childhood. I might go back even further than this but for now I think I'll continue from where this has left off. Anyway review for more!

PS- My biggest concern is Mugen's personality. Do you guys think he's good enough in character? It would be a big help to tell me, thanks!