This is my first SC fic and it was inspired by another SC fic called 'Addiction', which is awesome and I totally recommend it.
Much luv
The Deni Pie
T h e E l e c t r a Co m p l e x
He said that he would stay forever
Forever wasn't very long
He said that he would take the high road
He thought that I was always wrong
Cause when he lied it meant he loved me
And when he lied it meant he cared
And when he lied it meant he loved me
Cause when he lied it meant that he was there
He said that he would go his own way
Wrapped up my leg and down my spine
He said that he would be the fairest
Drenched in blood and turpentine
Cause when he lied it meant he loved me
And when he lied it meant he cared
And when he lied it meant he loved me
Cause when he lied it meant that he was there
I am never going back I don't care what he said
I wish he could see the hate in my head
I am never going back I don't care what he said
I wish he could see the hate in my head
I am never going back I don't care what he said
I wish he could see the hate in my head
I am never going back I don't care what he said
I wish he could see the hate
He said that he would tell no secrets
He said that he would never lie
He said that he would spring eternal
He said that we would never die
Cause when he lied it meant he loved me
And when he lied it meant he cared
And when he lied it meant he loved me
Cause when he cried it meant he cared
Cause when he lied it meant he loved me
And when he lied it meant he cared
And when he lied it meant he loved me
Cause when he lied it meant that
He was
He was
He was
He was there
"Rabbiteen" – Jack off Jill
Fuu was a girl with an impeccable memory. She was only five when her father left, yet she could still remember the way he smelled, still remember how strong his arms felt when they lifted her up, she still remembered how her chubby, little hand would sweat inside his massive one. Fuu forgot very little. And people who forget little can hate for a very long time.
When she turned 8 she was no longer sad over her father's departure and probable death. Instead she grew furious and resentful over it. Anger and bitterness began to boil inside her childish stomach, waiting to mature and find an outlet for release. He had left, her strong, proud father had abandoned his wife and little daughter, leaving young woman alone to raise their child. Fuu watched her mother struggle with food, money, making her a proper match and blamed her father for every bit of it. By day her mother would go out, see to their finances and do odd jobs to keep them afloat; but at night she could hear suffocated sobs coming from her bed. In her sleep she could hear her call out her father's name, sometimes begging him to come back, and Fuu learned, quickly, to keep her feelings to herself. Her mother had enough to deal with without having to defend her husband to her daughter.
In her home village's defense, they did give her and her mother a proper three weeks of mourning before starting to whisper. And whisper they did. If there had ever been a prize awarded for gossip, then the housewives of her town were, most decidedly, the reigning champions, and they defended their title viciously. They degraded her family and tainted her surname. Fuu discovered at a young age that all people were bored, and boredom, she learned, brought about cruelty. She had to endure their false pity to her face; all the while knowing their 'pity' would immediately turn to merciless rumors the second her back was turned. 'Poor child.' They would say, 'I heard the father isn't dead at all.' And 'I heard he left for another woman.' Of course after that would come the low chorus of 'Nooooo's saturated with idiotic drama and exaggerated shock. If her mother heard their whispers too, then she pretended not to. If she were ever asked, she would say her husband died an honorable death, and told her daughter to say the same.
What was so honorable about abandoning one's family? She thought fiercely. Throughout it all, though, her mother made do. Keeping her posture straight and her head held high, never forgetting she was the wife of a samurai, and never letting Fuu forget either. But a title did not put food on the table, and that's all it was: a title. She could not understand how her mother could be so proud of a name that was now spoiled and sullied with scandal and hearsay. Yet she was, and would continue to be so right to the end. Her mother refused any match offers for Fuu that were from the lesser families. She would kindly turn away the dark skinned boys in rags and dirty knees other women would offer her for her daughter with the excuse that she already had a proper marriage arrangement.
When Fuu was three, her father had made a wedding pact with a landlord of a village a few miles from their own. The landlord had promised his son to her and they were to wed on her fifteenth birthday. The day after she turned 11, she and her mother prepared make the trip to the village and visit the landlord's family to give proper arrangement details. And Fuu was to meet her groom for the very first time. She remembered how her mother had scrubbed her until her face, shoulders and knees were raw. Her hair was washed, brushed, and assorted into a beautiful display, complete with scented flowers and beaded clips. Pale powder and lush crimson lip-paint adorned her face. She was even dressed in a fine new Kimono, its yellows and oranges bringing out her beautifully natural coloring.
When her mother stepped back to admire her work, Fuu blushed and beamed in delight as her eyes watered with motherly pride. Gently taking her daughter's hand, she picked up her little purse and they set out for the long trip to meet her child's new groom.
When Fuu began to sweat her mother picked her up, not wanting her to present herself worn and dirty, not after all their hard work and preparation. It was a lengthy journey, but finally they made it to a beautiful house, with colorful decorations, sitting on what looked like an ocean of land, land that belonged to them. When they reached the door, Fuu was tired, groggy and wanted to sleep. She felt bad for her mother carrying her such a tedious distance, but she appeared invigorated and energized, hurriedly adjusting her Kimono and giving her daughter's hair and make-up one last touch-up.
They were soon greeted and let into the traditional looking home. Her mother introduced her to who were to become her in laws and they appeared to accept her graciously, commenting on how well mannered and obedient she was. The mother's name was Hatsue. She wasn't tall and was of average size, but adorned in an extravagant silk Kimono that Fuu could practically see her reflection in. The landlord's name was Jisagi and was a tall man with broad shoulders and thinning hair. The couple smiled down kindly at her but the smile didn't reach their eyes, which were skimming over her skeptically as if critiquing a show animal. Bowing deeply she almost lost her balance but thankfully no one noticed, and she received more compliments on her etiquette. Fuu was happy to be able to make her mother proud. They invited them for tea and discussion, kneeling before the table Fuu found that she was across from who she was told was her future husband.
His name was Muharu, he was only two years older than her and a pleasant looking boy, everything her mother said a girl of her stature should have. Ink colored hair pulled back into a traditional topknot, good, fair skin descending into a handsome yukata, eyes dark and fixed politely on his tea. Fuu was nervous and wished he would look up at her, give her some sign of what he thought of her.
The conversation started out courteous and conventional and after thirty minutes of pleasantries they finally mentioned the wedding arrangements. That was the only time she had ever seen her mother loose her well-placed temper. The couple said that they had engaged their son to someone else. They said when word of her father's death reached them they had assumed their match was cancelled.
Fuu felt her mother still. A deathly quiet overtook the room and, for all she knew, the whole house. That was not the reason. Fuu knew it, her mother knew it, there wasn't a person in the room that didn't know it. They would not marry their son to a man's abandoned daughter. It was as simple as that. If the father was obviously of such questionable character than who was to say the apple fell so far from the tree.
Turning to look up at her mother, the normally wise, and powerful eyes she had looked into since birth were now fierce and cold. "Hai, perhaps it is for the best. I would not want my daughter marrying into a family so easily succumbed by wild 'assumptions' " Her voice was icy with forced civility, spitting out the word 'assumptions' like vile poison on her tongue.
Jisagi and his family froze, their faces stony, obviously offended but propriety refusing them their rebuttal. Fuu was suddenly very uncomfortable under the heavy silence, but proud to have such a strong mother.
They politely excused the briefness of their visit and their abrupt departure before rising up and allowing themselves to be shown out. Neither Fuu nor her mother spoke the entire way home, every now and then she would pass a glance up at her to see her rigid posture and the cool detachment reflected in her eyes. It was a long way home but Fuu didn't complain once or ask to be held or carried.
It was late into the night when at last they entered their own village. Anxious for sleep, Fuu eagerly flew into their little home. She didn't bother to slip out of her expensive kimono, or wipe the paint from her face; too tired to keep her eyes open let alone prepare for bed. As exhausted as she was, Fuu found that she couldn't sleep. Her mother had not yet retired and she couldn't help but wait up for her. Fighting back a yawn it wasn't until the peek of the sun began to present itself over the hill that she finally heard signs that her mother was still in the house.
It was hard to make out, it was a controlled and muffled sound but had her crawling from her futon to peek into the other room anyway. And there she was, fallen to her knees and weeping into her pale hands. Creeping quietly over she wrapped her arms around her mother comfortingly. She felt her start at the sudden realization that she was being watched and quickly began composing herself. Fuu drew back and her mother kissed her rosy cheek rubbing her face with her soft hand. "Oh darling, that boy had an odd manner about him. We will find you a better one, I promise." Fuu nodded her head, not caring about a husband but not wanting to see her mother cry again.
But they didn't find a better one. She knew her mother was becoming annoyed with all the proposals from families from lesser classes and especially the absence of proposals from families from higher ones. She was a few months away from her twelfth birthday when Fuu began to notice the change in people's behavior around her, particular behavior coming from the male variety. Several of the village boys started giving her odd looks, looks that weren't patronizing or full of false sympathy. They grew clumsier around her, spoke strangely to her, and even sweated more in her presence. It was becoming a main irritation in her life when one day, just like that, it stopped. As if someone had snapped their fingers and their brains magically reappeared.
His name was Tatsuko, and Fuu wondered if it had anything to do with him. He was one of the older boys, 16 and the village delinquent. He was the town's personal thief and bully. No one knew who his parents were, but if they were in the village they never made themselves known. Tatsuko was tall, lanky, dark skinned with a scar crossing over his jaw and never put his hair back. For some reason she began to see him more around town and it was when that happened that all the unwanted masculine attention came to an abrupt halt. He seemed to be everywhere she was and wasn't sure what to make of it.
If she were at the teahouse, helping her mother, then he was somewhere around. Whether it be inside pick-pocketing the customers, or outside loitering nearby. When she was sent to the market, a boy, introducing himself as Yakusai, approached her with a smile and helped her find the goods she needed. Glancing around she noticed that Tatsuko was there as well and very aware of her new helper. She never saw the Yakusai again after that day. This conduct continued and increased until Tatsuko had taken to skulking around their home. Her mother obviously took note of the young man and looked as though she knew something Fuu didn't. She would look at Tatsuko suspiciously whenever he was around and never let Fuu out of her sight.
She remembered how her mother had caught Tatsuko waiting for Fuu near their home. "What would I want with your scrawny 'little girl' anyway?" The older boy sneered at her when she tried to shoo him away. Her mother made her stay inside that day and Fuu was growing annoyed by this over protective behavior and blamed the dark skinned young man for causing it. One night she was caught sneaking out, not being able to stand the cabin fever another second. Of course her mother assumed it was to go and meet 'that tattered little delinquent.' She scolded and lectured her but at the end of her speech looked at Fuu with worried eyes and said. "Your father would never approve of this, what would he have thought if he saw such a thing?" And just like that Tatsuko was a changed man before her eyes.
Fuu was twelve when she lost her virginity. It happened a few days after her birthday and was helping her mother at the teahouse. As usual, Tatsuko came ambling through the doorway with no money to pay. This time her eyes followed him with something other than annoyance and exasperation. They strayed to him when she knew her mother wasn't looking, this man, this boy that her father would never approve of. This boy that her father would supposedly turn over in his grave were she ever to associate herself with. He held new interest with her.
After her mother let her return home while she finished up at the teahouse, Fuu walked slowly away from the little building. She didn't have to wait long for Tatsuko to come strolling out just as she expected, and this time she was ready for him. He started in surprise to see her in his face, grabbing his wrist, and dragging him all the way to a little rice field far behind the house of one of her neighbors. His initial shock left able to do little else than follow dumbly as she shoved him to the ground, eagerly crawling onto him, snatching his face in her lithe hands, and yanking him into a hard kiss.
While she wasn't exactly a scholar in the details and dynamics of intercourse, Fuu knew the basics. She had heard enough talk from vulgar boys and enough rumors about her fathers alleged affair that she had a vague idea of what went where. She remembered how Tatsuko had gotten over a little of his surprise long enough to wrap his arms around her and attempt to kiss her back. Just as his tongue skimmed along her bottom lip, though, she shoved him to the dirt-covered floor and proceeded to tug and pull at his clothing. Once more he was hurled into a stunned little daze at her brazenness as she ran her delicate fingers along his tanned chest. Fuu hoped her father was watching them from hell and promptly rolling in his grave. What would dear daddy think of his little girl now?
Her kimono had fallen around her shoulders but she didn't waste the time to remove it, instead her hands clutched at the bright fabric, bunching it over her hips as she sunk down onto the surprised boy beneath her. Crying out with him, she was startled by the intense, burning pain she felt inside. This wasn't in the profane conversations of perverted men or the whispered gossip of housewives. This was something she wasn't prepared for. Fuu gasped for breath, her hands splayed across his breast, able to feel the rise and fall and seemingly millions of beats per second coming from it. The ache tore her apart from the inside out and stilled her atop his narrow hips.
Her caramel eyes stared out into the field around them trying not to focus on the hurt now stinging inside her child womb. Dirty, calloused hands rose, gently moving over the flatness of her chest, taking her attention away from the swaying gold of the pasture. For the first time, Fuu actually observed his face. It was as bronze as the rest of his skin, and his dark eyes gazed at her with an intensity that scared her. He didn't appear disappointed by her lack of breasts. She wondered how many times he had done this and if he knew it would be this painful. "Why'd you stop?" He breathed out, his voice husky and virile.
For a moment he looked younger, more like his age, boyish and unthreatening. He was a thief, he was poor, he was a criminal, he was dirty, and he was perfect. She had smiled then, feeling powerful and oh so feminine. Her hips began to rock, not with the slow and gentle motions of a youthful virgin, but with the fierce and angry thrusts of a spiteful woman. Fuu jolted, taken aback when Tatsuko suddenly went still under her, arching his back off the ground until her knees could no longer feel the grass. It felt like a damn had broken and she was flooded from the inside. His body fell bonelessly back to the ground, his chest rising and falling beneath her little fingertips, and gradually she felt his heart return to normal.
Crawling off of him Fuu sat in the grass, her legs parted, curious to see what exactly it was she had done to herself. Trails of blood mixed in with a thick opaque fluid trickled down her thighs. Poking at the new wound with inspecting hands she hissed and jerked back as if burned. Burning was a good word to describe the new sting between her thighs. Looking at her skinny legs and knobby knees she felt more like a child playing a woman's game. She had done this with Tatsuko because it was the only way to pay her father back; it was the only way to feel like she had gotten revenge for his abandonment. For a moment she remembered her mother's voice 'You're father would never approve of this.' Fuu frowned, she didn't care what her father would or would not approve of. Its not like he was there to tell her, and that was his own stupid fault. Besides, that was the point of all this, wasn't it? To rebel against a man who wasn't there. To hurt him by not caring whether she disgraced his name or not.
Sighing angrily, she frowned as the resentment came rushing back to her. He was dead, and how could she hurt a ghost? Why did she feel like the only one thoroughly disgraced here was herself? Shaking her head in disgust, Fuu rose to her feet, her mother would no doubt be home by now and angered by her absence. Her body jerked to a halt, feeling a rough hand grab her wrist. She glanced down to see Tatsuko looking up at her, "Where're you going?" He asked from his sitting position. How long had he been watching her? Her eyes flickered with barely concealed irritation at his presumptuousness, but before she could grit out an answer he continued. "I've never had a woman on top before, I like it. I like you." He confessed, watching her with worship in his eyes.
Fuu couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed with his affection. She wanted to go home not listen to gross pledges of adoration. "My mother's waiting for me. I have to leave." She bit out, pulling at her hand. He only looked at her in confusion, "Huh? Why?" he asked gently trying to tug her into his lap. Growling in irritation, Fuu yanked her hand back, wrenching it from his grasp. "I'm going home, leave me alone!" She snapped.
She could still hear him calling her back as she jogged away from the area, leaving him behind in the desolate rice field. Boys were stupid, she thought, and that so called 'making love' was even dumber. There was nothing in that act that would ever make her desire a repeat performance. She was a little winded when she reached her house, adjusting her kimono and righting her appearance, Fuu slowly moved through the doorway, readying herself for another scolding. No such thing reached her ears. Instead she found her mother sitting dejectedly near their futon, looking for all the world as though she didn't even hear her daughter come in.
Her mother was sick. She had stopped by a doctor's after a week of feeling ill and he had diagnosed her the best he could. They could not afford the treatment she so direly needed. At first, Fuu did not believe her. There was no way her mother would leave her. She was all she had left in the world. Surely she would get better. There was no way she couldn't.
Unfortunately, for every will there's a way. The following two years, Fuu worked harder at the teahouse, trying desperately to earn enough for treatment and medicine; but when food, finances and other payments were deducted she always just barely managed to break even. Everyday she would work, take care of her mother, and manage to avoid Tatsuko's advances and everyday he became more frustrated with her snubs and brush-offs.
She was almost fourteen when he stopped her, pulling her into a secluded alleyway after she had gotten off work one night. Glaring at him fiercely, she reminded him that she had no time for him and needed to get home. He angrily cut her off, telling him how he was being kicked from the town. She scoffed, telling him it was his own fault for all the muggings and stealing. He said he needed to leave tonight and she was coming with him. Fuu yanked herself away from him, yelling that he was crazy if he thought she would just pack up and leave for him. She remembered the hurt that came into his eyes, as if Tatsuko truly didn't think she would refuse him when he needed her the most. Then he became cold, an icy fury working its way into his face. He grabbed her harshly, threatening to tell her mother everything if she didn't come with him.
Turning away, she left him fuming in the alley. There was no way she would let him close enough to her mother to tell her anything. It was amazing how men seemed to be the source of all her problems. It was because of a man that she and her mother were even in this position. Fuu sighed, then, stepping into her home with a weary heart, sending a silent prayer to Kami for herself and her mother.
Perhaps seemed Kami had been busy that night because Fuu froze, kneeling at her mother's bedside, her breathing was shallow and raspy, her skin was sallow and pale. She cried as her mother told her how much she loved her, how proud she was of her. Fuu remembered thinking 'what had she ever done to make her proud?'
Every now and then Fuu contemplated what her life would be like if her mother had died right after that. If she had passed away before telling her the truth. The truth that her father was still alive and out there somewhere. Fuu froze, not being able to let go of her mother's hand, even as it went cold and still. Her father was alive. He was alive while her mother was dead. What kind of God would let an injustice like this happen? She sniffled, burying her face in the chest that no longer rose and fell, disturbed by the lack of heartbeat within. What had she done to make her mother proud? In her quest to disgrace her father in the worst way possible she had forgotten that she had a mother to shame as well. And now the one person that she had truly wanted to make proud had died in dishonor, while her father was probably prospering happily with a new wife and children.
She sobbed for the injustice; it was her father's fault. It was all his fault. It was because of him that her mother was dead. It was because of him that she spoiled herself on a filthy delinquent. It was because of him that she was now alone and practically an orphan. Wiping her nose, Fuu turned to look into her mother's pale face that was once so strong. She stared into the closed eyes that held so much wisdom and comfort. Her gaze fell to the chin that was always held high, seemingly undaunted by any misgivings or misfortunes the world had dealt her. Fuu would find her father. She would find him for her mother and herself. Maybe then she could bring honor back to their name. Maybe then she could finally make her mother proud.
"Stop that." Jin muttered concealing his annoyance as Mugen snapped his fingers in Fuu's face yet again, and just like the other 54 times he did it she was completely oblivious.
"Mind your own damn business, s'not like I'm doing it to you." He muttered back.
Jin sighed exasperatedly. His pallid hand rose up, placing itself firmly on the girl's shoulder. She started a bit, her eyes snapping away from their glazed stare into the fire to the fair colored fingers curled over her shoulder. "Oh, gomen, what were you saying?" She questioned shaking her head from its reminiscent muck.
Mugen snorted, tossing the other man an annoyed glare. He had been snapping his fingers in front of her face for a good twenty minutes, the bastards just touches her and she's up like someone poured ice down her back. "What's your problem? You've been staring at the fire for almost a half hour."
Fuu glanced at him shaking her head. "It's nothing."
"Whatever." The answer appeared to satisfy the brutish pirate and he laid himself back to the ground, crossing his tanned arms lazily behind his head.
She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest and wresting her chin. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly thinking of her old betrothed, the landlord, the rice field, or Tatsuko. It wasn't until Jin, too, succumbed to rest and lay himself on the grass did Fuu resume her journey down memory lane. She wasn't sure what had brought about this little mental trip, but she supposed it had started with Jin. They had stopped to set up camp for the night, and as he lit the fire she was struck with how the orange and red hues played along the whitish planes of his face. Sitting back he began to sharpen his sword, with focused eyes and steady hands, no one else existed. And just like that she was eleven years old again, thrust into an uncomfortable mask of make-up and a Kimono that was too heavy for her, carefully glancing at Muharu, silently praying he would look up at her.
It reminded her of all her mother had ever wanted for her, how hard she had tried to give her what her father couldn't. Jin was the epitome of Japanese beauty, with his far skin, inky hair, dark eyes and immaculate sense of honor. Of course she hadn't been in love at first sight. She had been fooled by 'honorable' men before, and once bitten, twice shy. It was his dedication, his devotion, and his unrelenting sense of self that drew her, so hopelessly, to him. Naturally his situation wasn't the most appealing. Jin would probably have to run for the rest of his life, or until he was willing to accept death. She doubted that he would ever be able to escape the bounty on his head. But she would run with him, he only had to ask and she would run with nothing but the clothes on her back, a smile on her face, and a song in her heart. He was her fairytale come true, her brave warrior from the legends and stories she was told as a child. But most of all, he was her second chance. He was her chance to make all her mother's struggles not to be in vain.
But life rarely gave second chances. Fuu knew she had never gotten one. It was only after Jin had gone after that woman did she realize that there were no fairy tales for her. She would forever be chasing a man who didn't love her. Wasn't that the story of her life? She thought bitterly. She remembered when Jin had stepped into their room, wet, beaten, bruised and with desperation in his eyes that she had never seen before. He had actually gone so far as to ask Mugen to loan him the ryu to buy the woman. And Fuu knew she had lost. She would never be the good girl, the respectable woman she had so wanted to be. She would never be like her mother, a regal wife full of nobility and respect. She was only Fuu. A girl who gave herself away to a thief when she was twelve years old, a girl who lied to her mother on her death bed, a girl with no sense of honor or obligation, a girl forever trying to be something she wasn't.
Had her father stayed, she might have been able to be the woman she wanted to be. If he hadn't abandoned them then she would be in a beautiful home right now with a respectable husband. She wouldn't be breaking her heart over yet another man that didn't want her, she wouldn't be broke and homeless with absolutely no idea where she was going and no plan for the future, and most of all she wouldn't be shaming herself yet again. If her father had just loved her and her mother a little bit more then Fuu wouldn't be in a battle between being the girl her mother had raised her to be and succumbing to the girl she really was. The girl she hated herself for being.
A gentle breeze played with her hair and made the flames dance a little jig for her as Fuu quietly climbed to her feet. Walking deeper into the woods, once again abandoned her honor on the ground where she left it. When the sun rose she would continue to pursue the men that eluded her, yet when the sunset she was safe with the knowledge that at least one man would follow her. She wouldn't have to wait long; she could already hear his steps sounding the grass behind her.
Fuu was a girl with an impeccable memory. She forgot very little. And people who forget little can hate for a very long time. They can also love for just as long. She supposed it made it very hard for the man stepping confidently behind her. When Fuu was five, men became the source of all her problems. And it appeared that now, at fifteen, they still were.