Fuu rolled over, and her eyelids fluttered open.
"Hello," came the reply.
"Oh...hi," Fuu muttered sleepily. Silky black strands of hair covered the opposite pillow, and Fuu smiled. A pale, gentle hand stroked her cheek, and a small, reserved smile grew on the face across from her.
"Jin, I can't believe you got these three days off," Fuu grinned.
"We've had these lazy mornings, just lying here doing nothing for hours..." she mused as she sat up on the side of the bed.
"Hm," came the amused response. Fuu laughed.
"Is that all you're going to say? That's all you ever used to say, I remember.." Her face turned to a warm, pleasant expression.
Silence. "Yes, I remember also." Jin's voice cut clear through the brisk morning air. Fuu flopped back down on the bed, positioned happily on her stomach, propping up her face with her hands.
"Can you believe it's been five years?" she wondered aloud, running her fingers through Jin's luxurious tresses, the color of blackest night passing over her palm, cool to the touch.
"No.. I can hardly believe it myself," he mused, almost a whisper. Jin rocked over to his side, facing his wife. "Do you.. ever wonder what's happened to Mugen?" Fuu asked suddenly and cautiously. The samurai pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head.
"No," he replied.
"Oh," Fuu breathed.
"Okay, well, never mind. I just..." she quickly flustered, then calmed when a hand came to her arm.
"Do you?" Jin asked firmly, with concern in his eyes.
"...Sometimes," Fuu reluctantly replied.
"Hm," was Jin's judgment.
"I guess.. he's probably still getting himself in all sorts of trouble..." the young woman concluded with a small, disgusted sigh. A life full of whores and liquor, hard and fast, was the recipe for Mugen's paradise.
"If he isn't dead already," Jin added.
"An awful thought, but more than likely," Fuu mentioned, staring off into space.
"Anyway, it's wonderful to spend these long mornings here, just ... relaxing," she said as she stretched.
"I miss you during the day." The samurai grinned, a rare sight. Of course, Fuu had quite a few rare occasions here at home with Jin. He was different sometimes, and often just when she thought he was entirely predictable. Fuu rested on her back, and the two gazed at the ceiling for a time. Jin sighed. Fuu turned to him, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Embracing her gently, the samurai kissed her; first on the forehead, then moved to her mouth, kissing her methodically and passionately. Entwined, the two quickly fell asleep.