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Chapter Text

He was walking through the rough part of Edo when he hears her name again. The mouth of a disgusting man says it without a care and he stops walking long enough to hear him tell a group the name of the brothel. He takes one look at them and his eyes fall onto the tattoos that are not quite like his. His eyes sharpen in anger and he unsheathes his sword without a second thought. The group goes quiet at the sound of metal against metal, their eyes widening when the man with tattoos, for a crime worse than any of them ever imagine, swings his sword at the one bragging. His voice dripping with every ounce of death when he demands to know details about the woman. He doesn't need anymore proof when the man tells him she keeps a vase of fresh sunflowers in her room.

It doesn't take him long to find the brothel. The stocky man standing outside is hailing in customers telling them that 'his Sunflower' is busy with a customer, but his other girls are just as beautiful and exotic. He's not sure if he remembers her being beautiful or exotic, all he can really remember anymore is her eyes. How they stayed completely innocent even after all the blood and death that she was exposed to her during that journey that happened too long ago. A man exits the brothel and the stocky man outside sends him a nod and a smile, before shouting out into the buzzing street, 'the Sunflower will be available in just a few minutes'. He watches as a few men crowd the door, offering more money than he could afford to spend for just one night with her. Suddenly, those nights spent by the campfire seemed to be worth more than he once thought.

Yelling at the stocky man, he unsheathes his sword, and makes a quick dash towards the entrance. The men that once surrounded the door run off into different directions as he practically jumps on them using them like stepping stones, before he actually makes it into the door. Sliding into the hall, he comes face to face with the other women of the brothel; he wastes no time in asking about the 'Sunflower'. One of the older women smiles, like she knows who he is and why he is there, yells back something along the lines of, 'top floor and don't stop swinging til you get there'. He nods his head at her in acknowledgement and heads for the stairs. No matter how many brothel houses are built, they all have the same layout: the first floor has the entertainment and a few rooms, the second floor is filled with nothing but rooms, and, usually, the top floor has only three or two rooms, which are rooms for the highest paid and most requested girls. His heart almost drops into his stomach at the thought.

He runs up the stairs, three at a time. The security is nonexistent until he reaches the third floor, where it seems all the money for security went too. Taking the last step onto the third floor, he smiles as he enters his battle stance. It had been a long time since he felt his blood pump through his body like this. His eyes dart around the room, it is eleven to one, the odds are in his favor. The sound of a blade swinging behind him sends a wave of excitement through him as the fight begins. He uses every part of his body in the fight and still only comes out with only a scratch along his torso. He doesn't even have time to register his victory when he hears his name being whispered from across the way.

He narrows his eyes at her. He's not sure if it's her, the hair color seems to be right, but the length of the hair is far longer than he remembers, it's falling almost halfway down her torso. Her body is more slender, but fuller in the right places. He can't even remember if the crook of her neck had always been that inviting. He stares at her blankly before finally sheathing his sword and moving towards her direction. Her eyes stay glued on him and he realizes it is her. Even if her eyes no longer have that innocent light in them, he could never forget them.

Once he is standing in front of her, he stares down at her and his lip twitches in a strange smile as he suddenly asks her if she wants to go on a journey to find four-eyes and that whore he married.

Chapter Text

It is not until the fourth night, after he takes her from the brothel, that he feels the question start burn in the back of his mind. At first, he tells himself that she has the worst luck out of anyone he has ever met, and that almost justified her being there. Then slowly, his imagination takes over and his own brain betrays him with thoughts of her being brutally raped and broken repeatedly. She was always so stubborn; she probably took longer to break in than most of the girls. Her fragile body being forced to take every ounce of punishment the brothel owner could allow. He finally decides that when she did break, she cursed his and Jin’s name, until she no longer cried anymore. 

The innocence that was once in her eyes is gone and he almost does not recognize her anymore. Her hips have been swaying side to side in a seductive dance that sometimes makes him bite back a low groan in his throat. She wears the top of her kimono slightly open, just showing skin, but not enough to cause any trouble. Her hair is longer; she wears it half up, and allows the rest of it to fall gracefully over her shoulder. Sometimes the sun will catch her sunflower shaped hair clip in the right way and she looks like she bathed in glitter. However, it does not make him forget. The question still lingers in the back of his mind and tonight, the pressure from keeping his curiosity at bay has finally burst.  

Therefore, he waits.

He sits in their shared room at the rundown inn they found along the roadside. They had no money to pay for the room, but she, somehow, made a deal with the old innkeeper. When the old man refused Mugen’s suggestion of paying for the room by repairing the roof, he almost chopped the old man’s head off, but her small hand stopped him. She gave him a reassuring smile, before looking at the old man. Her eyes dropped into a look that he knew far too well and her voice held a sweet song of a promise to the old man if he let them stay the night. At that moment, he felt his heart drop into his stomach; she was willing to spend a night with the innkeeper to keep them out of the thunderous rainstorm. 

When she finally walks into the room three long hours later, she does not look at him. She keeps her eyes to the floor and crawls into the cot next to his. He can feel his anger starting to boil as the question knocks on the door again. Taking a deep breath, he moves to sit behind her, and stops when he is only a few inches from her back.

“How long were you there?”

The question rolls off his tongue and it feels like a thousand swords are piercing through his torso when he sees her body stiffen, before she rolls onto her back and looks up at him. Her eyes just barely glazed over as she smiled up at him. 

“Not long.” She whispers, before she blinks her eyes.

“How long is ‘not long’?”

She bites her lips and looks away from him, “Long enough to forget.”

His hands are clenched into fist, “How long?”

“How long have you been looking for me?” She bites back in an attempt to stop his questions.

After a long pause, his fingers find a strand of her hair on the floor, “Six years.”

“Hmm.” She hums to herself and closes her eyes, “That sounds about right.”

Her hair falls through his fingers and back onto the floor as she turns back onto her side. Her back facing him. He feels worse than when the question was unanswered.