Imitation of Flowers [one-shot]
Title: Imitation of Flowers
Rating: R
Pairing[s] Characters: Taemin and Kibum
Warning[s]: character death, not gore-y... but kind of? rape
Word Count: 2,245
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just the story. I do not own the history in which this derived from either.
Summary: Just... don't look back.
A/N: After watching 'Flowers of War', featuring the massacre and pillage of the once Chinese captial of Nanking, in which many, many men, women and children were murdered by the hands of the Japanese in 1937. It only took two weeks for 30,000+ to die and even then, the Japanese would not leave until after world war II. The story I wrote is inspired by the movie, and based off true accounts of what I know and have researched.
I do not hate Japanese people, this is not meant to come off as a racist fanfiction. I simply am stating facts of the Nanking massacre through a fanfiction with Taemin and Kibum. Yes, I kept their Korean names but in here, they are Chinese, not Korean. Please be mature, read the warnings and think it over. This fiction, I'd hope, will move some of you because Nanking is quickly becoming a serious issue to me.
Run. Run and run and run. If you look back… you can’t. No one is left alive except for those ones chasing you and you run harder because they’re screaming at you, screaming for you to stop so they could kill you, burn you, cut you, fuck you.
The Japanese. They’re here. They won’t leave. Like weeds overrunning a garden, Nanking has fallen to chaos and death. Everything smells like smoke and decaying bodies. Death may fear to pick up the lost souls because of the vicious Japanese soldiers. They surrounded them, they killed everyone else.
The group of dress-torn, dirty women runs across the streets as they hear shouting behind them, shouting for them to stop so they may serve the country, the Japanese country. The lie cannot work this late in the fight, they continue running and running. Even if they forgot their home, their family, their language, never would they forget to run.
About eight in all, the bare footed women race down the street with dead, bare bodies placed on the side, left and right. They no longer bleed, no longer make a sound of their suffering while others seemed to have spent their last breath screaming for eternity. Some were lucky to have been crushed by a falling building, hit by too many grenades and bombs that it simply fell. Others, not so lucky, were stabbed over and over, neck sliced, face cut, limbs hacked and genital disfigured.
They called them dog shit, chinks, filth. God hated them, the Emperor hated them and the world hated them. Why hadn’t the Westerners helped harder? Why weren’t there more American soldiers trying to fight for their life, for their lost capital? No one cared about the Chinese anymore. They never really did in the first place.
In those Japanese tongues, they shouted and fired their weapons at the girls, splitting them up into two unequal groups, dashing down the street with no place to run to for safety. Somewhere, however, they believed, could save their life and somewhere out there, they could hide and not die. At least, they wouldn’t die today.
~
Taemin was in the larger group of women, along with Kibum, as they shivered in the cold building. The Japanese hadn’t found them, they were distracted by a group of young children suddenly running from where ever they had once hid. Bullets and screams rang like sirens as girls and boys fell as they died. Some girls were dragged off… all of them, dead or alive. Their bodies were desecrated because it wasn’t considered rape if they were a Chinese citizen. That’s what they knew.
The building was open in some places, but there was an equal amount of rubble to hide the women, with two pseudo girls, for a few more days at most. Then they would run, some would die and some would… never been seen again.
By hiding like a girl, as Taemin and Kibum had learned, it saved their life. Girls were prized for their ‘omanko’, pussy, and therefore kept alive in a running fight rather than shot like men were. If they kept their hair pretty, if they wore dresses and ran barefooted, if they kept their head down and stayed quiet, they could live. Taemin and Kibum would make it out of there alive. If only they could do that.
The group, cut in size now, once all stayed at a “sanctuary”, the Japanese weren’t allowed to touch it. But they did and the blasts of brick and shoved bayonets were what they fled from. The large group became smaller and smaller, some dying while others straying off until it was just their group. Previously, the women had plotted to throw out Taemin and Kibum from their “sanctuary” because they were not girls, they were not weak beings and therefore should fight for their country but the Japanese had saved them in a twisted sort of way.
They ran together, hid together, stayed silent and cried together.
Kibum was born from a farmers family, father moving to Nanking with his mother and younger sister once his grandmother had died, all built up on dreams to start a bakery. They could cook well enough, of course the Kim family could start a business in the capital of their home country.
His father ran away when the Japanese invaded. Then his mother was killed when they invaded their poor, makeshift shop and then his sister. First they were raped. Kibum had hid in the floor boards his sister and he had fun taking out only a few days ago. He heard his sister cry out, his little sister. She hadn’t bloomed yet, but the men went at her like she was prime while his mother’s voice was seldom heard. He briefly wondered if she died sooner than he had thought. Kibum didn’t go out and save them. He knew he would have died and he was afraid of death, he was afraid of the Japanese that attacked them like a rabid dog. Fear gripped his limbs, silencing his voice as hot tears fell from his face.
The house was searched, valuables taken and then Kibum was surrounded by fire. He escaped with burns on his arms and most likely a black lung, but he lived. He didn’t have to see the dead bodies of his family.
It wasn’t until later did he find the “sanctuary” and Taemin had already been in there. The boy was smaller than he was, but they were friends as quickly as it took for someone to hear bullets flying through the air. They needed each other; they no longer had anyone else to love them.
~
Running again. The next morning was all running. First it was silent, trying to find a new place to suitably hide. Bullets flew over head, in the sky, followed by bomb blasts and crashing buildings not too far off. Nanking had been destroyed, yet it wasn’t good enough for the Japanese because they continued. They continued to yell and fight and scream and shoot.
They heard the voices, closer and closer. They heard the foot stomping as Japanese ran toward them and so the girls, five now, hid amongst the debris. Their soiled clothes blended in well with the broken walls, dead bodies and blood splattered around the area. As long as they stayed silent, the Japanese would run past, shooting somewhere else.
But Kibum had tripped.
And the Japanese had rounded the corner.
His hands clawed the ground as he looked back, crying softly as he scooted back on the dusty ground. His legs didn’t work, they wouldn’t pick him up. The girls couldn’t help, they wouldn’t come out of hiding, just has he didn’t for his family, even if they were only just to the side of him.
The Japanese laughed, howling with joy as the first soldier grabbed Kibum by the ankle and dragged him back as he struggled to crawl forward. He kicked the man in the face, screaming as he picked up himself from the ground, only to be stabbed in his hamstring and fell to the ground once more. Roughly, he was turned over and he cried. He screamed and tried fighting with his hands but a soldier held them above his head while another ripped open Kibum’s poor dress using his bare hands.
He screamed at them to stop, to let him go. He called them fuckers, shit faced dogs never to reach death peacefully, but they didn’t stop. They didn’t know Chinese.
The dress was torn open, revealing Kibum’s wrapped lower half and then that too was cut open, the blade scraping his thin stomach. He screamed out, fighting the hands on him, the hands holding his wrists and the bodies laughing above him. They spoke in Japanese quickly before all went silent. Kibum had a penis; he wasn’t a girl like they had thought.
This was it, Kibum expected to die and he prayed that it would be quick. Even his fighting had stopped as the soldiers grew silent and slowly, he turned his head to the side and caught the eyes of one of the women in hiding from their group, or maybe it was Taemin. Kibum wouldn’t speak though, he wouldn’t give them away because they were his people, they were Chinese together.
Blood, blood was everywhere after the pause. Kibum was cut, he was stabbed and fucked. They took out their dicks because Kibum was there still, naked, in front of them and if he wanted to act like a girl, then he would be fucked like the rest. They shoved into him, unprepared and unconcerned, as he screamed and rocked on the ground, arms going limp from pain and numbness as his body gave up the fight. His vocal cords didn’t stop, they didn’t know how or maybe they were tortured to work, like Kibum was being tortured, as he screamed for them to stop touching him. But the first man fucked him until he was done and stepped back. Slowly, Kibum closed his legs but they were held open by two more soldiers and then another had his turn. And then another, and another.
He was bleeding, he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead until they shoved their bayonet inside of his hole after the last man was sated and he bled out even more. The world didn’t exist for him, eyes shut as he felt nothing anymore. Kibum was nothing anymore.
Taemin watched it, he watched Kibum get raped, stabbed, sliced, cut, dismembered and staked with a pole. He cried for him, he prayed that he would go to heaven and be accepted for the strong person he was. Taemin cried and he cried hard. He watched his friend become slaughtered, even after he thought he was dead. The Japanese soldiers kicked his dead body, chopping it up until another got their attention and they ran off.
Slowly, the women came out of hiding. Taemin followed but he wanted to fall, he wanted to fall down straight to hell so he wouldn’t have to live anymore. He cried and fell to his knees at Key’s no longer attached limb but he was grabbed before he could meet contact with the ground and was dragged off.
They had to continue to run.
“Kibum! K-Kibum!” Nothing moved of his friend, he was dead. “KIBUM!!”
Taemin screamed until his mouth was covered and no more sounds came out. Not until night fell and they arrived at a new sleeping place and he cried himself to sleep. The sleep was filled with images of Kibum dying, Kibum crying out for Taemin and crying out for help. Taemin couldn’t have helped him though.
Taemin had lived in Nanking all of his life, with his whore mother never telling him who his father was as she worked the brothel. She didn’t know, however. He didn’t search for him, he didn’t have any siblings and so Taemin stayed at the brothel. Once the Japanese came however, Taemin was sent off to the “sanctuary”, where his mother cried and said that he was a bastard child, but he was loved. If anything, he was better than those rich fucks that had all the money and no cares because at least his mother loved him. The small boy was left with that advice as he arrived at the all-girls “sanctuary”, only to run.
Only to lose his best friend.
Kibum had been his only friend.
Screaming woke up Taemin, the girls were screaming and running but the boy stayed on the ground where he had slept because Japanese soldiers followed those girls that ran around the building they were sleeping in. They howled as they grabbed them by the dress, shoving them at the walls and forcing their dicks into them as they screamed for mercy. No mercy came.
Then one man stopped, he stared at Taemin and easily punched him in the face with the butt of his gun, readily getting on top of him as he laughed and pulled at his dress. Was there a need to fight? Was there any real reason not to die now? The Japanese had won… they had taken over everything, so what was just adding Taemin’s body to the count? He felt tears roll down his dirty cheeks as he closed his eyes, the Japanese man pulling at his wrap before no movement came for a quick second. He had seen it, he had seen his penis. And Taemin had left out a choked sob as he braced himself for pain but he welcomed Death. He wished it to arrive soon for all of them as the girls screamed around him.
The man on top of him growled angrily, getting up and taking out his knife. Taemin’s eyes shot open, him gasping for air as he was hacked at, castrated. He took the pain without noise as the man stabbed him. He stabbed him in the chest, in the groin and in the stomach. He couldn’t count; Taemin could only cry as he forgot everything there was in the world. Everything except for Kibum.
The man had left Taemin’s body bleeding, figured he had died once he closed his eyes but Death stood next to him, watching, until the building was nothing more than rocks on the ground from a few grenades thrown in the broken windows. Taemin was nothing anymore.
Rating: R
Pairing[s] Characters: Taemin and Kibum
Warning[s]: character death, not gore-y... but kind of? rape
Word Count: 2,245
Disclaimer: I don't own them, just the story. I do not own the history in which this derived from either.
Summary: Just... don't look back.
A/N: After watching 'Flowers of War', featuring the massacre and pillage of the once Chinese captial of Nanking, in which many, many men, women and children were murdered by the hands of the Japanese in 1937. It only took two weeks for 30,000+ to die and even then, the Japanese would not leave until after world war II. The story I wrote is inspired by the movie, and based off true accounts of what I know and have researched.
I do not hate Japanese people, this is not meant to come off as a racist fanfiction. I simply am stating facts of the Nanking massacre through a fanfiction with Taemin and Kibum. Yes, I kept their Korean names but in here, they are Chinese, not Korean. Please be mature, read the warnings and think it over. This fiction, I'd hope, will move some of you because Nanking is quickly becoming a serious issue to me.
Run. Run and run and run. If you look back… you can’t. No one is left alive except for those ones chasing you and you run harder because they’re screaming at you, screaming for you to stop so they could kill you, burn you, cut you, fuck you.
The Japanese. They’re here. They won’t leave. Like weeds overrunning a garden, Nanking has fallen to chaos and death. Everything smells like smoke and decaying bodies. Death may fear to pick up the lost souls because of the vicious Japanese soldiers. They surrounded them, they killed everyone else.
The group of dress-torn, dirty women runs across the streets as they hear shouting behind them, shouting for them to stop so they may serve the country, the Japanese country. The lie cannot work this late in the fight, they continue running and running. Even if they forgot their home, their family, their language, never would they forget to run.
About eight in all, the bare footed women race down the street with dead, bare bodies placed on the side, left and right. They no longer bleed, no longer make a sound of their suffering while others seemed to have spent their last breath screaming for eternity. Some were lucky to have been crushed by a falling building, hit by too many grenades and bombs that it simply fell. Others, not so lucky, were stabbed over and over, neck sliced, face cut, limbs hacked and genital disfigured.
They called them dog shit, chinks, filth. God hated them, the Emperor hated them and the world hated them. Why hadn’t the Westerners helped harder? Why weren’t there more American soldiers trying to fight for their life, for their lost capital? No one cared about the Chinese anymore. They never really did in the first place.
In those Japanese tongues, they shouted and fired their weapons at the girls, splitting them up into two unequal groups, dashing down the street with no place to run to for safety. Somewhere, however, they believed, could save their life and somewhere out there, they could hide and not die. At least, they wouldn’t die today.
~
Taemin was in the larger group of women, along with Kibum, as they shivered in the cold building. The Japanese hadn’t found them, they were distracted by a group of young children suddenly running from where ever they had once hid. Bullets and screams rang like sirens as girls and boys fell as they died. Some girls were dragged off… all of them, dead or alive. Their bodies were desecrated because it wasn’t considered rape if they were a Chinese citizen. That’s what they knew.
The building was open in some places, but there was an equal amount of rubble to hide the women, with two pseudo girls, for a few more days at most. Then they would run, some would die and some would… never been seen again.
By hiding like a girl, as Taemin and Kibum had learned, it saved their life. Girls were prized for their ‘omanko’, pussy, and therefore kept alive in a running fight rather than shot like men were. If they kept their hair pretty, if they wore dresses and ran barefooted, if they kept their head down and stayed quiet, they could live. Taemin and Kibum would make it out of there alive. If only they could do that.
The group, cut in size now, once all stayed at a “sanctuary”, the Japanese weren’t allowed to touch it. But they did and the blasts of brick and shoved bayonets were what they fled from. The large group became smaller and smaller, some dying while others straying off until it was just their group. Previously, the women had plotted to throw out Taemin and Kibum from their “sanctuary” because they were not girls, they were not weak beings and therefore should fight for their country but the Japanese had saved them in a twisted sort of way.
They ran together, hid together, stayed silent and cried together.
Kibum was born from a farmers family, father moving to Nanking with his mother and younger sister once his grandmother had died, all built up on dreams to start a bakery. They could cook well enough, of course the Kim family could start a business in the capital of their home country.
His father ran away when the Japanese invaded. Then his mother was killed when they invaded their poor, makeshift shop and then his sister. First they were raped. Kibum had hid in the floor boards his sister and he had fun taking out only a few days ago. He heard his sister cry out, his little sister. She hadn’t bloomed yet, but the men went at her like she was prime while his mother’s voice was seldom heard. He briefly wondered if she died sooner than he had thought. Kibum didn’t go out and save them. He knew he would have died and he was afraid of death, he was afraid of the Japanese that attacked them like a rabid dog. Fear gripped his limbs, silencing his voice as hot tears fell from his face.
The house was searched, valuables taken and then Kibum was surrounded by fire. He escaped with burns on his arms and most likely a black lung, but he lived. He didn’t have to see the dead bodies of his family.
It wasn’t until later did he find the “sanctuary” and Taemin had already been in there. The boy was smaller than he was, but they were friends as quickly as it took for someone to hear bullets flying through the air. They needed each other; they no longer had anyone else to love them.
~
Running again. The next morning was all running. First it was silent, trying to find a new place to suitably hide. Bullets flew over head, in the sky, followed by bomb blasts and crashing buildings not too far off. Nanking had been destroyed, yet it wasn’t good enough for the Japanese because they continued. They continued to yell and fight and scream and shoot.
They heard the voices, closer and closer. They heard the foot stomping as Japanese ran toward them and so the girls, five now, hid amongst the debris. Their soiled clothes blended in well with the broken walls, dead bodies and blood splattered around the area. As long as they stayed silent, the Japanese would run past, shooting somewhere else.
But Kibum had tripped.
And the Japanese had rounded the corner.
His hands clawed the ground as he looked back, crying softly as he scooted back on the dusty ground. His legs didn’t work, they wouldn’t pick him up. The girls couldn’t help, they wouldn’t come out of hiding, just has he didn’t for his family, even if they were only just to the side of him.
The Japanese laughed, howling with joy as the first soldier grabbed Kibum by the ankle and dragged him back as he struggled to crawl forward. He kicked the man in the face, screaming as he picked up himself from the ground, only to be stabbed in his hamstring and fell to the ground once more. Roughly, he was turned over and he cried. He screamed and tried fighting with his hands but a soldier held them above his head while another ripped open Kibum’s poor dress using his bare hands.
He screamed at them to stop, to let him go. He called them fuckers, shit faced dogs never to reach death peacefully, but they didn’t stop. They didn’t know Chinese.
The dress was torn open, revealing Kibum’s wrapped lower half and then that too was cut open, the blade scraping his thin stomach. He screamed out, fighting the hands on him, the hands holding his wrists and the bodies laughing above him. They spoke in Japanese quickly before all went silent. Kibum had a penis; he wasn’t a girl like they had thought.
This was it, Kibum expected to die and he prayed that it would be quick. Even his fighting had stopped as the soldiers grew silent and slowly, he turned his head to the side and caught the eyes of one of the women in hiding from their group, or maybe it was Taemin. Kibum wouldn’t speak though, he wouldn’t give them away because they were his people, they were Chinese together.
Blood, blood was everywhere after the pause. Kibum was cut, he was stabbed and fucked. They took out their dicks because Kibum was there still, naked, in front of them and if he wanted to act like a girl, then he would be fucked like the rest. They shoved into him, unprepared and unconcerned, as he screamed and rocked on the ground, arms going limp from pain and numbness as his body gave up the fight. His vocal cords didn’t stop, they didn’t know how or maybe they were tortured to work, like Kibum was being tortured, as he screamed for them to stop touching him. But the first man fucked him until he was done and stepped back. Slowly, Kibum closed his legs but they were held open by two more soldiers and then another had his turn. And then another, and another.
He was bleeding, he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead until they shoved their bayonet inside of his hole after the last man was sated and he bled out even more. The world didn’t exist for him, eyes shut as he felt nothing anymore. Kibum was nothing anymore.
Taemin watched it, he watched Kibum get raped, stabbed, sliced, cut, dismembered and staked with a pole. He cried for him, he prayed that he would go to heaven and be accepted for the strong person he was. Taemin cried and he cried hard. He watched his friend become slaughtered, even after he thought he was dead. The Japanese soldiers kicked his dead body, chopping it up until another got their attention and they ran off.
Slowly, the women came out of hiding. Taemin followed but he wanted to fall, he wanted to fall down straight to hell so he wouldn’t have to live anymore. He cried and fell to his knees at Key’s no longer attached limb but he was grabbed before he could meet contact with the ground and was dragged off.
They had to continue to run.
“Kibum! K-Kibum!” Nothing moved of his friend, he was dead. “KIBUM!!”
Taemin screamed until his mouth was covered and no more sounds came out. Not until night fell and they arrived at a new sleeping place and he cried himself to sleep. The sleep was filled with images of Kibum dying, Kibum crying out for Taemin and crying out for help. Taemin couldn’t have helped him though.
Taemin had lived in Nanking all of his life, with his whore mother never telling him who his father was as she worked the brothel. She didn’t know, however. He didn’t search for him, he didn’t have any siblings and so Taemin stayed at the brothel. Once the Japanese came however, Taemin was sent off to the “sanctuary”, where his mother cried and said that he was a bastard child, but he was loved. If anything, he was better than those rich fucks that had all the money and no cares because at least his mother loved him. The small boy was left with that advice as he arrived at the all-girls “sanctuary”, only to run.
Only to lose his best friend.
Kibum had been his only friend.
Screaming woke up Taemin, the girls were screaming and running but the boy stayed on the ground where he had slept because Japanese soldiers followed those girls that ran around the building they were sleeping in. They howled as they grabbed them by the dress, shoving them at the walls and forcing their dicks into them as they screamed for mercy. No mercy came.
Then one man stopped, he stared at Taemin and easily punched him in the face with the butt of his gun, readily getting on top of him as he laughed and pulled at his dress. Was there a need to fight? Was there any real reason not to die now? The Japanese had won… they had taken over everything, so what was just adding Taemin’s body to the count? He felt tears roll down his dirty cheeks as he closed his eyes, the Japanese man pulling at his wrap before no movement came for a quick second. He had seen it, he had seen his penis. And Taemin had left out a choked sob as he braced himself for pain but he welcomed Death. He wished it to arrive soon for all of them as the girls screamed around him.
The man on top of him growled angrily, getting up and taking out his knife. Taemin’s eyes shot open, him gasping for air as he was hacked at, castrated. He took the pain without noise as the man stabbed him. He stabbed him in the chest, in the groin and in the stomach. He couldn’t count; Taemin could only cry as he forgot everything there was in the world. Everything except for Kibum.
The man had left Taemin’s body bleeding, figured he had died once he closed his eyes but Death stood next to him, watching, until the building was nothing more than rocks on the ground from a few grenades thrown in the broken windows. Taemin was nothing anymore.