A/N: This is not really my first Umineko fic, but it's the first one I actually had a fondness for. It's also my first fic to be posted here, so please be gentle. It is an AU fic, set in a place where some of the relatives do get off the island, Maria and Rosa included. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it~
Disclaimer: I do not own Umineko, the characters involved, or any other pre-existing form of fiction. The only thing I own is the actual story.
The first morning Rosa Ushiromiya awoke to a letter under her pillow, she was disdainful. She hadn't wanted to carry the burden of having to sneakily get it into the trash bin before innocent little Maria could notice. Lo, she had known more of these were going to come as well. How she had longed for this nuisance to be out of the house; she would no longer have to be a kind or sweet in the most acidic ways towards the one being she hated most on earth.
She did, however, open it, to see what the little brat had scrawled onto this dainty looking piece of crap paper, with its pink hue and messy, hand drawn flowers. Roughly unfolding it, she had glared upon the paper.
Good morning Mama,
I'm sorry this letter is so short. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I hope your work trip went nicely. Sakutaro and I were really good and I didn't leave or answer the door. I was especially good since you've been sad ever since we got back from the island. I hope you like the picture I drew for you at the bottom. I worked hardest on making you pretty!
Lots of love!,
Maria. Uu-!
Rosa had been, more than anything else, shocked to find herself smiling a little when she looked down upon the picture. Drawn there was a rather messy picture of Maria, Rosa, and Sakutaro smiling, deep within a blissful group hug, crudely colored in with crayon. Somewhere deep inside, her heart had recognized the earnest love put into this letter and in this picture.
This had not, however, stopped the blows and insults from landing upon Maria later that night. Rosa had tried to tell herself it was because of the stress the island had placed on her shoulders. She was shaken and angry about the happenings, so she needed somewhere to place these feelings. The youngest Ushiromiya sibling new this was a ridiculous notion, a horrible excuse. But it had, at the time, sufficed.
It seemed that every morning since that first letter, Maria would write her another, each a bit longer than the last, professing her undying and unconditional love for her beloved mother. Each letter was accompanied by a picture, each nicer than the last, practice doing good for the young girl. Much to her own surprise, Rosa had begun storing them in a nicely crafted, modest wooden box. And every night another was added, ten times as many as the total collected were transferred into the blows Rosa would lay upon her daughter. One morning, a twelve year old Maria left a less lighthearted, but equally as earnest letter beneath Rosa's pillow.
Mom,
My shoulders hurt today, so it's kind of hard to write this. I'm sorry, mom, but I felt that, today, I should tell you how I feel. Every morning for the past three years, I've been getting up earlier than I have to, just to shower you with love. Yet, every night, you hit me. Every night you hit me harder and longer than you did the day before. Mama, I don't fully believe in the black witch anymore. So, why do you hit me? Why do you hate me? I love you so very much, but every night, my love is met with an undying hatred. I'm really sorry for whatever I've done. I never meant to insult you or anger you in anyway. I only wanted to make you happy. I'm going to try to make dinner tonight and some tea. I want to talk to you about it then, if you'd like. I really love you a whole lot more than you know, and I want you to be able to grasp that. I hope work was good to you last night, and that you have an equally good day today.
Love,
Maria.
This letter's only picture was Rosa, smiling, with a lot of detail and beautiful, smooth coloring. But it had only held off Rosa's anger for a moment. The truth and curiosity in this letter had her seeing red. No, tonight, she would not talk to Maria. No, Maria would not get off that easy for being so disrespectful. Rosa hastily got ready for work, throwing the letter under her bed. She didn't want its bitterness and horrendousness to contaminate the good hearted letters from the past!
Quietly Rosa had moved later that night, sneaking up behind Maria in the kitchen. She was humming a merry tune as she gently stirred tonights dinner-to-be in its shiny pot. It sickened her. How dare she be in such light spirits after being so incredibly rude! Rosa had quickened her pace, silent, sliding, as if she were a snake. As soon as she was in a close enough proximity, she snatched the boiling pot from the stove, gritting her teeth against the scalding heat. A confused Maria had turned around, pure shock lacing her face as she realized her mother's intent. Rosa had raised the pot high above her head, arms shaking from the stress of the weight, and, in one swift motion, sent the scalding soup pouring over Maria's skinny, vulnerable body.
Nothing could stop the shriek that sounded from the burned young girl's mouth. It rang out through the whole apartment building, the whole street. It was only a few decibels away from sounding throughout the whole city. There had been no stopping the neighbors from calling the police and child protective services. They came, and there had been no denying the burn that was seeping its way into the young girl's body. Maria was taken away, put into proper care, and Rosa was shoved into the back of a police car.
Now Rosa sits alone, in a small apartment all by her lonesome, stroking the box of the once forsaken letters her daughter had written for her. Now Rosa sits, reverently petting it, caressing it, allowing the small speckles of dust to disappear from it. Her routine is now monotonous, with no letter there in the morning to cheer her up as she readies herself for a long day at work. There is no little girl, playing with her dolls, and innocently loving her mother with an unbreakable strength. Now Rosa sits, lonely and full of anguish, no husband gained from the lack of the daughter, no more love from her now deceased father or remaining siblings. There most certainly isn't love coming from her nieces and nephews, who more openly despise this woman than their parents. Now Rosa sits…broken.
One day a letter appears amongst the bills Rosa can barely afford to pay. It is addressed to a Ms. Rosa Ushiromiya, and the sender is…Maria. Curious, Rosa carries the letter to her apartment, desperately wanting to know what her daughter thought of her. She was just about 27 now, wasn't she? Rosa hoped she was well and that she had grown up to be a fine woman. Gently undoing the seal, Rosa quietly opened up the formal, thick white paper.
Ushiromiya Rosa,
It's been a while since I wrote you. I'm afraid I could never find the time. Why should I have tried, though? You probably never read those letters anyway. You probably ripped them and tossed them away, just as you did to my innocence.
I'm not naïve anymore, Rosa. I've grown. I've developed a mind of my own. I can think for myself, and I can now fully understand what you did to me. After the Rokkenjima incident- no, even before then, you abused me. There is no such thing as the black witch. Ha! I'm sure you're glad to hear I'm not "stupid" anymore. I've realized just how despicable you truly are; no longer do I turn a blind eye to your horrible nature. I can now recognize that each time you told me you hated me, you meant it.
Not that I think you have an interest in me to any extent, but I feel I should provide you with information about myself, seeing as you are my biological mother. A woman by the name of Hikari and her husband Hideki raised me after I was pulled out of your care. They were both the best parents I could have ever asked for, and still let me stay in touch with the other Ushiromiyas. I'm 27 now, and currently working as a fourth grade teacher; my main goal is to spot children with mothers like you, and save them before they are so far in delusion they must wait until they are my age to realize how horrible their mothers are. I'm engaged to be married; perhaps Krauss told you that already. I'm extremely excited…not that you care.
Did you find a nice man after you were released from prison, who's used to dating women who abuse their daughters? Are you finally happy that I am no longer in your way? That you no longer have to talk about me with your horny rich man of the week and kill the mood? I hope you're happy, cozy and out of prison, knowing I'll never speak to you again after this letter is sealed and sent.
…Mother. I'm sorry. I want you to know that I'm so harsh on you, not only because you deserve it, but because I still love you. And I always will.
Yours forever,
Ushiromiya Maria. (Uu-!, for nostalgia's sake.)
Rosa felt the tears falling from her eyes. The last "Uu-!" Maria would ever utter to her. The last words she would ever speak to her. Rosa's tears were bittersweet; tainted by regret and shame and self-hatred, but heavy with the pleasure that, despite all Rosa had done, Maria still loved her. Gently folding the letter back into its original state, Rosa kissed it before placing it in the old wooden box and wiping her tears. Rosa knew she would now die happy; even if her daughter didn't know of her regret, Maria loved her, and that was all that mattered. Getting out a paper and a pen, Rosa started a letter of her own, to be given to Maria after her passing.
Dear Maria,
She began.
I love you, and I'm sorry.
Rosa smiled, preparing to write for hours. Her letter would extend down to the bottom of her heart, to the greatest depths of her soul.
