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The Electra Complex	By : DeniPie Category: +S to Z > Samurai Champloo Views: 13152 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai Champloo, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
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.
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The Electra Complex