And My Head Held High
We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to black
--Amy Winehouse, Back to Black
Disclaimer: Samurai Champloo does not belong to me.
--
whisper
"Don't leave me," she whispers brokenly into his ear.
He doesn't respond, just tightens his arms around her bare torso. She never expects a response but God, she's still disappointed all the same and--as always--she turns on her side so he can't see the moonlit tears slide down her porcelain face, down, down, down, slide down the bridge of her nose and soak into the pristine white futon.
He's guilty, and he's stalling, and he can't promise her anything, because he doesn't have anything to offer her. He's scum, he thinks he's worse than Mugen. He knows she thinks he's using her for her body until his impending marriage to Shino passes but its so far from the truth he wants to scream but he would--could--never do that. He's far too controlled for that nonsense.
Every morning for the past seven weeks Jin's woken up with the intention of leaving, but he looks down and see Fuu's peaceful slumbering façade and he remembers her tearful plea and thinks to himself one more day can't hurt. But he knows it hurts more and more with every passing moment, and he's so goddamn selfish, but he can't give her up. Not yet. He wishes so much it was her he was marrying but he constantly reminds himself duty comes before self for samurai and if nothing else, he is samurai. So he comes to her in sin and when she gasps and surges up against him every night he damns himself for falling for her so deeply.
It's only at nighttime that his walls are down long enough for him to confess his love and when she doesn't say it back and glances aside he bitterly feels another piece of his heart crack off.
--
groan
"I can't leave you," he groans into the curve of her neck. This time, she's pinned to a tree in the middle of the forest. Rain trails in little streams past her parted lips and down her neck and down her spine and down her chest and oh, it's so cold against her burning skin and she lets out a hot gasp but it's cut off by his even hotter lips. He slams into her none too gently and she screams his name as her back arches and legs tighten around his waist.
She doesn't know how she's gotten here. Fuu never wanted to be used--she refuses to be a common whore-- but she loves Jin. She's loved him and his simplicity and his honesty since she was 15 but now she's convinced that every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie, so she'll never tell him she loves him although it's the truth. She knows he'll leave, it's only a matter of time, so until he leaves she'll dance with him, the most primitive and passionate dance she has ever--and will ever--experience.
And when he tells her he loves her, with that pained look on his face, Fuu can't bring herself to believe him and thinks of how badly she's fucked up her life.
--
dream
Fuu dreams, and remembers.
She hears yells coming from outside the fence and witnesses her mother and father engaged in a heated argument before the white fence. "Mama?" she prods carefully, quietly. "Papa?"
"Oh, F-Fuu, honey," her mother starts. 5 year old Fuu notes critically the redness in her mother's eyes and her father's deeply furrowed brow. "G-go back inside."
Stuck between obedience and empathy, she hesitates next to the fence. Fuu finally chooses obedience and runs back inside the small cottage, trusting with all the faith she has that her parents will resolve whatever problem was between them.
Amaya returns not 10 minutes later and finds Fuu underneath the blankets. "Fuu-chan," the older woman whispers between sobs. "It's just me and you now, Daddy's leaving."
"What? Where's he going? When's he coming back? Can I go with him--"
"No, Fuu-chan. Daddy's…leaving forever. He's waiting outside for you to say goodbye."
But Fuu can't leave her bed, because she doesn't want to face reality. So she shakes her head emphatically, no, she doesn't want to see him.
"Come on, honey, Daddy's waiting." And Amaya picks up her daughter, who buries her face in her mothers neck. Fuu feels a movement and smells her father's distinct musky scent and hears him rumble, "I'm sorry, Fuu. I love you very much, never forget that."
And he leaves.
She's older now, and she's watching her mother die.
"Don't…don't go," Fuu pleads, weeping into her mother's white kimono. The townswomen have already dressed Amaya for her own funeral.
"I can't help it, Fuu… Don't… cry." Her mother's voice is getting weaker by the moment. "Remember…this." Her breath hitches. "Men… are scum. Don't…become weak…like I…did."
Fuu can only nod her head.
"I love you very much, Fuu. Never forget that."
A week later, her mother died.
--
goodbye
"Fuu." Her name comes out a hard syllable instead of the burning caress she's used to. She knows what's coming, his wedding is in a week, and she can't deal with it now so she avoids his intense eyes and bows her head as she sits on a rock in the middle of the pond, shoulders hunched, and toes swirling circular patterns in the water.
"Look at me." It's a command, and now Jin is standing in front of her, up to his waist in water, and Fuu won't have any of that. So she deliberately glances to the side.
"Look at me." Jin's tone has changed. "Please."
Fuu allows herself to glance at his throat. She sees his Adam's apple bob up, and then down.
"Higher."
Her eyes rest at his lips, and she watches him mouth, 'Higher.'
She looks down into his bottomless eyes and hates him, but she can't deny she hates herself more.
"You're leaving," she states flatly.
"Yes."
"Then go." She says it angrily, because feeling anger is better than feeling hurt, which is what she's fucking felt her entire fucking miserable 19 years. "I can't stop you, because you're engaged, and I'm the other fucking woman."
"You aren't the other woman. You never were."
"Don't feed me bullshit, Jin. I don't need your fucking pity."
His serious, shocked gaze indicates to Fuu he wonders where she picked up her language and she spits, "Mugen was a good teacher." And, just to spite him, she adds with a sick smile: "In more than one way, if you understand--"
"Farewell," he says shortly as he strides out of the pond.
Good, she thinks, satisfied. He's angry.
"Why now? Did I hurt your feelings?" She asks with apparent mock concern. Fuu knows it's a bad idea, baiting him like this, but she can't help hurting him, and momentarily, she thinks mygodi'mfuckedup.
She watches his tense shoulders forcibly relax to normal and he slowly walks back to Fuu.
"Why don't you believe me," he grits out.
Oh, God, no.
"Don't do this. You're getting married. Don't do this now."
"Then when? After my marriage passes?"
"OK Jin, what do you want me to say?" Fuu exclaims, getting angry. She's letting her emotions get the best of her even though it's the last thing she could ever want at this moment. "You want me to say that there was a point in what we had? That it would last forever? Or do you want to hear that I loved you?" When she sees him guiltily glance aside, she stops. Incensed, she continues, "Why would I say it when you never meant it?"
"I always--
"Said it during sex?" she interrupts. "I know. And you'd always promise me you'd stay, too, but I never believed that either. Jin; everyone always leaves."
Jin doesn't say anything, cursing his and her circumstances, and wishing with all his heart that he could have done things over again right. He wishes so much, but it doesn't matter, and when Fuu says, "It's time for you to go, Jin," he kisses her roughly and memorizes the feel of her lips because he needs to embed this, her, him, together, in his memory.
"Goodbye," he whispers into her ear, and she dies a hundred times.
--
A week later, Jin is married, and he dreams.
He's thirteen, and he's watching his oblivious master whisper sweet nothings to his wife in the middle of the dojo. Jin's hardly ever been so uncomfortable and he tries to escape the dojo with minimal sound and movement, but Mariya-sensei catches him in the corner of his eye and shares a look with his amused wife, who gracefully gets up and leaves master and student to share an awkward moment.
"I apologize, master," mutters Jin stiffly.
"No need, Jin," replies the usually strict man. "The fault is mine." After a minute of silence, Mariya Enshiro barks, "Are you going to sit or what?"
Jin warily sits.
"Jin…you will be a man soon. It is my duty to instruct you on…certain things about life."
"I know all about the reproduction process," hastily puts in Jin.
"You do, do you?" snorts his sensei. "Well, that reduces my job by half. I still need to tell you the secret to living happily." He sees he has Jin's full attention. "It has nothing to do with swordsmanship, Jin." He watches his student's shoulders slump. "But…in a few years…you will have to choose a wife."
Jin barely conceals his distaste. Women, from what he'd gathered from snippets of his classmates' conversations, were nothing but trouble.
Mariya laughs. "You may feel differently in the future. But remember what I'm going to tell you well, for I shall not repeat it. When you choose a wife, make sure you do not only feel lust for her. It is vital you remember this; many a man have fallen into destructive patterns because there was no love in the household."
Thirteen year old Jin almost rolls his eyes, but manages to stoically reply, "Yes, master."
Jin's twenty-two now, and he's seeing Shino again for the first time in 3 years.
He walks up to the temple, intending to tell her he no longer has feelings for her, when a toddler walks up to him and greets him.
The samurai's heart nearly collapses when he sees that the child is Jin's replica, and he believes Shino when she says, "Jin, meet your son."
When Jin wakes up, he hates himself.
even more than he did when he killed his master
He thinks of Fuu, then Shino, then the accidental son.
Next time, he'll do things right.
He swears it.