10There was something about that boy.
He couldn't be more than fourteen years old, Fuu concluded, as she quietly observed the youth from her kitchen. The boy, clad in filthy and threadbare clothing with scruffy black hair, had ducked into her teahouse, and loitered close to the entrance, his dark eyes scanning the assortment of patrons sipping their tea or chewing on dumplings. He was thin, but the way he balanced on the balls of his feet told her that he was spry… and sneaky.
By the way his eyes shifted, she could tell that he was up to no good. She had been around too many vagrants, and she knew he was going to steal.
That would cause an uproar in her shop, and Fuu couldn't have that. She worked hard to get the clientele to keep the shop afloat, and she didn't need a bad reputation hanging over her doorstep. She glanced over to her portly cook, who was preoccupied with spearing dango and humming to himself. He was a kindly man, and he played a key role in starting up the shop, but he held no love for street rats. Fuu's attention returned to the boy once again as she grabbed a tray and strode into the dining room.
"Hello." she greeted pleasantly. Her voice caused the boy to jump. "Can I help you?"
The boy's eyes trained on hers, the fear dissolving into aggression. His brows knitted and he took a step backwards. "Water."
Water…?
Instantly, Fuu was fifteen again, just a young waitress in another tea shop in another city. The man with the strange tattoos merely spared her a glance just before demanding water. That loaded stare was almost as intimidating as the sword strapped on his back.
"We only serve paying customers."
Fuu didn't realize that she had said that out loud until the boy screwed up his face into a scowl and turned on his heel, storming out of the shop. She raised her hand to call out to him, but it was too late. He was gone.
"The strangest thing happened to me today."
Fuu's fingertips casually traced small circles against Mugen's arm, which was casually draped over her hip. The crickets chirped outside, and the faint sound of music drifted through the open window from the red light district of the city. It was a pleasantly cool night, and the sky was alight with stars. She was wide awake.
The same could not be said for Mugen.
He grumbled sleepily against the slope of her neck, a clear sign that he didn't want to talk. Fuu pressed on anyway.
"A boy walked into the shop. He looked really suspicious, so I asked him if he wanted anything."
Mugen snorted. "The kid was suspicious, so you go talk to him."
"Well, I wanted to diffuse any kind of situation before it got out of hand."
"And you wonder why I have to save your sorry ass all the time."
Fuu pinched the sensitive skin at his wrist between her nails. He jerked his arm away, swearing.
"Let me finish, you jerk. As I was saying, I asked him if he wanted anything. And he said he wanted water, and without thinking, I told him that we only served paying customers. Then he left."
"The brat probably wanted to steal somethin'."
"But don't you think that's strange?"
There was a pause, and Mugen asked, "That he wanted to rob you?"
Fuu let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Mugen." She rolled over to look at him, his bronze skin illuminated by the moonlight. His dark eyes glared at her, half lidded from fatigue. A laugh escaped Fuu's lips. "I half expected a guy in glasses to show up and my tea house to burn down."
Mugen rolled on his back as Fuu curled against his chest. "Ya know, you're too… what's that word? Some kind of mental?"
Fuu closed her eyes and grinned. "That's 'sentimental,' Mugen."