Author's Note: Here we go...my first ever fanfic. Not feeling too confident, but not the other way around either. Some notes on this story - it is based on a Vietnamese song called Chi Toi, which is personally one of my favorite Vietnamese songs. You can listen to the song if you'd like. Also, some background information. A betel tree with areca nuts represents love and marriage in Vietnamese culture. During weddings, a leaf from the betel tree and an areca nut are eaten together to represent the binding of two people together. A betel tree also happens to look like a heart, so you get the picture.
Oh, and I'm sorry if my characters (especially Mukuro) seem a little OOC...well, his portrayal in my story is not as negative as in the actual manga, so I hope it doesn't disturb anybody.
Okay, no more dragging out the author's note; enjoy the fanfic hopefully?
Hello everyone. My name is Fran, and I am going to tell you the story of my big sister, who sacrificed her own happiness for the sake of her family.
I lived in a little wooden cottage by a river with a small, arched bridge. Growing right next to the front door was a betel tree—a healthy palm tree with bright green leaves, many a bunch of areca nuts, and a large bushel of betel leaves twined around its trunk. This cottage housed five—my mother, my two younger brothers, my older sister, and I. My big sister supported the whole family alone by selling vegetables in the Eastern market.
She wasn't married yet.
"Nagi nee-san!"
Nagi turned around as she was about to depart for the market, and, putting down the woven basket, crouched in front of her youngest brother. "Yes, Ken?"
"Don't leave me, nee-san!" Ken stared up at her with huge teary eyes and an adorable pout. "Chikusa is being a meanie and keeps bothering me."
"No I wasn't, he's lying," the person of topic scowled from behind Ken. "Ken wouldn't let me play with his ball."
"That's because you already have your own!"
"But mine broke!"
"See, nee-san, he's lying!"
"Alright you two, calm down." Nagi glanced between the two with a frown. "Even if Chikusa was lying, Ken, you should share with your brother because he shares everything with you, doesn't he? Like the time you dropped your ice cream at the New Year's festival and Chikusa gave his to you?"
His face was still pouting with defiance, as if he couldn't remember that moment. But soon a slight blush flooded his cheeks as the memory replayed itself in his mind. Ken's eyes lowered in shame. "Yes, nee-san."
"Alright, so share your ball and play with your brother, okay?" Nagi smiled and affectionately patted his cheek.
"Yes, nee-san." He offered his own little smile and turned to his brother.
"Fran," Nagi called out to the other side of the room, "take care of your brothers, okay?"
I looked up at her from my playing cards with a bored expression. "I will, nee-san."
"Thank you, Fran." She stood, picking up her basket and patting her little brothers' heads. "You boys take care of your mom, alright?"
"We will, nee-san!" they chorused in unison.
Nagi smiled lovingly. "Thank you boys." And with that, she turned around and walked out the front door.
My big sister was a beautiful young woman—fair skin, glistening purple hair, a perfectly thin figure, and a youthful face that glowed with her stunning smile and large amethyst eyes. Countless suitors constantly threw themselves at her for her hand in marriage. My mom, as she laid old and dying, told her to get married, have a family, be happy. But my big sister refused, for she loved her siblings too much; she wanted to take care of them in her mother's steed until they married and left home to live an independent life.
She didn't want to get married yet.
"Nee-san," I called out to her from my mother's door. "Mother wants to talk to you."
Nagi came over, and I left them alone with the door still slightly ajar. "Yes, Mother?" She seated herself on a chair by my mother's side.
"My precious daughter…" My mother groaned out wearily as she turned her head towards her daughter. Her lengthening red hair strayed out messily, wrinkles evident around her drooping eyes, her lips dry and colorless. Her whole complexion seemed lifeless, and her effort to smile just barely brought some life into it. "I hear that many suitors have been asking for your hand in marriage." She chuckled, before bursting into violent coughing fits. "Have you found someone you like, yet?" she asked, moments after she settled down.
Nagi paused for a moment, eyes downcast, and replied softly, "Not yet, mother."
My mother gazed at her for a few seconds, then said, "I called you here for a favor." Her hands reached out weakly for Nagi's clasped together over her lap. She held them in hers and stroked them lovingly with her thumb. "Get married, Nagi, after I die."
Nagi froze at the request.
"Get married, Nagi. Have a family. Be happy. By then your brothers will be able to take care of themselves." She squeezed Nagi's hand. "Please, my darling."
Nagi remained silent. Finally, she removed one hand to grip her mother's, and said, "I love my brothers too much. I won't get married, not until they marry and live by themselves."
True to her word, after my mother passed away, my big sister didn't marry, instead raising her three younger brothers—cooking for us, taking us to school, even telling us stories. Soon we were getting married, and my sister made preparations for all of our weddings by herself. In conclusion of the ceremony, we felt happy to be finally with our loved ones for eternity; yet as I crossed the bridge with my partner, hand-in-hand, I turned back one last time to see my big sister, waving to us with tears of sadness and loneliness in her eyes.
At this point, she still wasn't married yet.
After the guests left for the night, I held my newly-wedded bride in my arms and kissed her with happiness for our wonderful future together. Nagi came out of the house with my luggage and a small smile plastered on her face.
"Congratulations, Fran." She handed me my luggage. "I hope you and your wife will live a happy life."
I accepted the bag gratefully, and my partner and I bowed down to her. "Thank you nee-san. Thank you for everything. Without you, none of this would have happened."
Nagi mirrored our actions. "And thank you for being such a wonderful and understanding brother, Fran."
We shared our last smiles of gratitude and love, and hand-in-hand, my loved one and I crossed the small, arched bridge over the river. As I turned my head to meet my sister's face one final time, I was met with a heart-wrenching sight—her lonely figure against the dark night, and cheerless, longing eyes dripping with fresh tears, accompanied with a forced smile and a final wave of farewell.
"I will never see you again."
For the next couple of years, my big sister remained at our cottage, alone. She still sold vegetables at the local market, but instead of coming home in the afternoon to a noisy household with bickering brothers and a dull-voiced teenager, she was greeted with a quiet, lonely cottage, with only the betel tree as company, and the melancholy serenade of crickets. One clear, starry night, however, this all changed when she finally met someone special.
She still wasn't married yet.
Chop, chop, chop. The kitchen resonated with the sound as Nagi chopped green onions for her dinner. She was going to prepare beef noodles, her family's favorite recipe. Every week, she would cook beef noodles as a special surprise for her family, and whenever she placed the bowls on the table, the response would always warm her heart—cheers of glee from Ken, a genuine smile from Chikusa, even a bit of a glow on Fran's face. It was also during this time that their mother would also join them at the dinner table, because who wouldn't want to eat a delicious bowl of hot beef noodles while they're sick?
Reminiscing the memory of her family, Nagi's heart ached with longing to be with them together again. But that was never going to happen, not until probably the next life. She forced back the tears, willing herself to stay strong for them.
Suddenly, she was broken from her reverie when she heard human voices outside and a knocking on the front door. Wiping her hands on her apron, she ambled with curiosity to the door, and opened it to meet a tall, handsome man with a gentle smile on his face.
"Hello, are you a resident of this area?" the man questioned. He was breathtaking; a fit body wearing work clothes, a handsomely elongated face with facial structure to match, and blue hair tied up in a bushel on the top of his head, with an addition to a long ponytail extending from the base of his hair. But what stuck out most of all were his dark sapphire eyes, gentle eyes filled with kindness that seemed to show as much recognition to Nagi as she was to him. She couldn't help but blush slightly.
"Y-yes. Is there something you need?" she responded.
"Not really. We just needed to let local residents know we're going to be fixing the bridge."
"Eh? Why?"
"They wanted to make the bridge bigger. I don't know, I personally think the bridge is fine, but it's the city council, what can you do?" He shook his head slightly, before looking up at Nagi again. "Say, what is your name?"
Slightly taken aback by the question, Nagi answered, "…Nagi. How about you?"
"My name's Mukuro Rokudo." He stretched out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Nagi."
"Likewise," she shook his hand, and it was that moment that both beings felt the strangest, yet most pleasant warmth they have ever felt.
After that first meeting, both Nagi and Mukuro ended up seeing each other every day. While Mukuro was working on bridge construction, Nagi would provide the workers with water and snacks, and during breaks they would both sit together and have pleasant conversation. Soon, Nagi looked forward everyday to just meeting this wonderful stranger who suddenly appeared in her life. Eventually, they both fell in love, and were soon engaged.
Finally, she wanted to get married.
It was long after the completion of bridge construction, but Mukuro continued returning to Nagi's cottage day after day, sometimes even staying the night. One wonderfully sunny day, Mukuro stopped by her cottage. At this point, Mukuro didn't even need to knock the door to let her know of his presence. Nagi heard the door slam shut, and grinned to herself as she stirred a huge pot of soup.
"Hello, my precious Nagi," Mukuro called out lovingly as he entered the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her waist. Nagi leaned affectionately into his hold, and turned her head back to give him a quick peck on the lips.
"Hello to you too, Mukun," she grinned happily.
Mukuro dropped his head onto her shoulders. "What's cooking?"
"Beef stew," Nagi said. "It's almost finished; it just needs to simmer down a bit."
"Hm." Mukuro remained quiet for a moment. "It's a nice day outside. You want to take a walk for a bit before dinner?"
Nagi closed the lid over the pot. "Sure."
And so they took a lovely stroll alongside the river. The sky was a beautiful azure blue, spotted with a few puffy clouds, and there was a slight breeze that felt pleasant against their bare skin. It was a beautiful day indeed.
They walked in silence, just enjoying each other's company. After a while, though, Nagi noticed Mukuro was a little…fidgety.
"Mukun?"
He looked at her and plastered a smile on his face. "Yes, my dear?"
"Something the matter?"
"Uh…" He smiled innocently. "Nope, not at all."
"Oh, sure." Nagi eyed him suspiciously. "That smile is way too innocent, Mukun."
Mukuro dropped the façade. "Alright, alright." He stopped suddenly, and grasped one of Nagi's hands in both of his. Nagi's surprise rose further when he bent on one knee.
"…Mukun?"
He took a deep breath, and said, "My dear Nagi. My beautiful angel. I wanted to say, I am grateful to have met you. Before I met you, I wasn't what I am now; you could say, I was tormented, and I hated the world. I hated humans, I hated society, I hated life. It tortured me to think I would continue to live like this for the rest of my life. I never thought anything would ever make me feel happy, but I guess that changed. When I saw you for the first time, it was like a fire was lighting up inside me. You were the most beautiful human being I ever met. And once I got to know you, I never felt so happy in my entire life. Just being with you makes me happy. And, I want to remain happy like this for the rest of my life. My precious Nagi," he tenderly squeezed her hand, "will you marry me?"
Nagi was speechless for quite an extended period of time. "…Nagi?" Mukuro raised his eyebrows slightly in concern.
Suddenly, a blush flooded her face, and she beamed with love and happiness. "Yes I will!" She tackled him to the ground and held him tightly, feeling him breathe out in relief. She giggled. "So you thought I would reject you?"
"No. Maybe," he smiled wryly.
"You idiot." Grinning, Nagi rested her head on his shoulder, and they both lay there, just enjoying the moment and awaiting their future ahead.
Mukuro had to return to his village to make preparations for the wedding, so Nagi stayed behind to take care of the cottage, awaiting his return. However, day after day, week after week, month after month, there was no sign of him. Every night, Nagi would sit by the window, watching the bridge, hoping for a tall figure with pineapple-styled hair to appear. He never did. And when he didn't, she wept. As the tears dripped from her eyes, the betel tree slowly wilted, life draining out of them both.
She still wasn't married yet.
Years passed, and I came back home to visit my big sister. Once I reached the cottage, though, it appeared old, dark, unused. I saw the betel tree by the front door, shriveled and dead. But what caught my attention wasn't that—it was the gravestone planted in front of the dead tree. Without having to get a closer look, I knew who that gravestone was for. I saw a civilian walking nearby, an old man, and I called out to him.
"Sir!"
The old man turned to me. "Yes? Did you need something?"
"Do you know what happened to the lady who lived here?"
"Ah…that poor young lady. She was waiting for her fiancé to return from his village. They were going to get married. But around the time he was gone, there was a huge vehicle accident on the road to the nearest village. I assume he was involved in that accident…he never returned."
I was silent. "Thank you very much," I managed to mutter.
"You're very welcome, son. You have a good day, now."
"You too, sir." I turned around and stared at my big sister's gravestone.
…
In the end, my big sister still isn't married.
And there we have it...reviews would be greatly appreciated, and perhaps any tips to make my writing better?