Updated 9/26/2013
Chapter One: The Scarred One
In the end it was trying to remove my curse that brought the damn thing to fruition. He appeared in a flash of lightning. Before I had time to take in a single detail my entire body stilled, my lungs seized, and I found I was completely trapped in a moment I didn't have a chance of truly comprehending. I always thought it would be painful when the curse activated, that it would feel like smothering chains. I was both wrong and right.
The moment he appeared, I felt a snapping sensation in the curse scar. It was like a rubber band dissolving enough to finally break and with it the spell bound wraps that covered half my face lit into a heat-less black flame. I barely registered it though, because my blood felt like it was boiling beneath my skin, which by comparison felt like it had been washed in ice. I'd seen him with my sixth sense and I knew exactly what had happened. My curse was no longer in a dormant state and I was now hopelessly in love with a creature I hadn't truly laid eyes on...and I do mean hopeless. When the spell hit full power, I lost myself for a time. The power was too great for my tiny human brain to fathom. Before I had a chance to see with my own eyes, darkness gathered at the edges of my vision and swept over me like the tides. It was freeing, it was painful. Bliss and contentment mixed with the pain, mellowing it to a bittersweet mixture that spoke of the human experience.
From my point of view people who dream about "love at first sight" are out of their damn mind. Black Widow said it best when she said, "Love is for children." No matter how many times Disney or the newest teen romances tried to shove the idea of perfect, fairy tale love down my throat its lack of depth tasted bitter. I never thought Romeo and Juliet was a romantic tragedy. I couldn't get why Prince Charming was who all the little girls sighed over when all he did was notice what was skin deep. Yeah, as a kid I was a happy fucking ray of sunshine, but people are stupid and I'm just hadn't learned not to bring it up.
When I was twelve, I told my best friend all that and it made her cry. At the time I just couldn't understand the importance people placed on that illusion. I was a product of two extreme environments that stripped all these illusions from my eyes so that I could see the cold, apathetic truth. True love didn't exist. Affection, warmth, love, desire, you could feel those for people, but there wasn't some magical fate bound answer to what everyone's heart had been trained to seek. Which made me loathe the curse and my parents more than I had the time or energy to truly explore.
Most people don't know anything about the curse, just as most people don't know the world isn't nearly as mundane as they think it is. If they can see through my facade at all, most people just think I'm a product of a broken home, a failed marriage, and that some day I'll get over it and realize that it's not an uncommon predicament. I choose to think I have an unfiltered and completely neutral view of the world. I don't have those stupid rose colored glasses that make the people that I'm attracted to into perfect little snowflakes. I've seen the look of love in the eyes of people around me. They look at their "true love" as if the sun shines out their ass and they can do no wrong. It takes a few years for things to settle enough before their view of "true love" is turned on its head, but some still cling to it like a security blanket, hoping what they have will grow into something better. That they'll learn to love what they have or that the yearning for something more will fade. I prefer my perception of things, I prefer not to lie to myself.
The idea of this 'true' love rebels against every instinctual tug in my soul. In this rebellion against what I've been taught, what's expected of me as a girl (and a Scarred One at that) I feel the smallest spark of freedom. It's the barest taste of power in a life that I have little control over. This defiance against my inborn nature creates a state of sweet suffering that fuels my existence and spurs me towards true freedom; towards the chance to escape the fate my curse has bound me to.
You see, my family suffers from a very unique burden. Every other generation, one child is born with a small scar right over their brow and across their forehead. In the beginning, it doesn't mean much. You're little and you play with your friends and explore the world around you like a normal child. When I turned five, though, my grandmother sat me down and had a very long talk about what it meant to be a Scarred One in our family. I spent my summers with her, learning more about our family history and the complex and sometimes tragic relationships involved, but nothing really sunk in until after I'd turned the puzzle in my head for ten years. I was staring at fifteen candles on a white sheet cake and the world seemed to snap into brutal, angry focus through the tiny flames. I felt hot, and cold, and angry.
One day I would meet a man and I would fall in love instantly. It bothered me, the nature of this curse. It was unfair and cruel. My curse would activate on someone I didn't have a choice in and I would be compelled to be near them, to become their family, to bear his children. It was fate showing up and forcing itself down my throat. It would take away my ability to walk away, to make my decisions freely. I only had the ability to follow this strong instinct, which made me feel like one day this thing would make me less than human. I hate my curse. I abhor the spiritual bindings I had to wrap over my face to keep it in check. And I loathed how complicated it made loving the people around me.
Real relationships and love were so were so damn intricate, much more so than something like what I was genetically predisposed to. There is so much depth and layering and fucking politics in the social dynamics of two people coming together. It's that complexity that became my idea of love. It is an intense longing that became these beautiful notions and covenants that I knew built over time between people...and it was nothing I would get the luxury of building on my own because someday I would meet some random bastard who would trigger the curse and seal my fate as a true Scarred Mother.
I knew one thing with every ounce of my being. If I wanted a true chance at happiness, I, Sarai Mayfield, needed to do what none of the other Scarred Ones had done in the past and break this stupid curse. After years of searching for an answer and trying to overcome the damn thing on my own, I realized I just wasn't strong enough. I was twenty-six and too afraid to let myself have feelings for the romantic partners that helped me stave off loneliness. I was tired of constantly living in fear that one day I would not be able to make the choice for myself. I was desperate and willing to look down every path to find the answers. And that's when Sakyou stalked from the darkness at just the right moment.
Sakyou Noburyou was a very interesting man, very interesting and very dangerous. Though the man was roughly Sarai's age it was obvious he was not someone to be trifled with. He was sinfully wealthy and radiated control and tactical prowess. The long, thin scar on the left side of his face only added to his imposing aura. It ran down from his hairline, skipping over his dark blue eye, and dragged down his face again to the corner of his jawline. Everything about him whispered, "Do not fuck with me" and Sarai made sure to remember it.
His casual smile and unconcerned attitude struck her at odds with what she sensed bubbling beneath the surface. He took a long drag on his cigarette and it was quite obvious he was observing the woman sitting across from him with the weighted gaze of a tactician. The man was obviously planning something...ambitious, but she couldn't figure out what the hell it had to do with her.
Dark blue eyes slid over her own relaxed form as she lounged in the thick pillows of the couch. Her feet were tucked underneath and to the side as she leaned on one of the overstuffed arms. Her rough silk skirt was anachronistically long and full, but somehow suited the plain white button down that played down her curves. Pale, freckled, but smooth skin contrasted with long wavy hair that appeared to be black at first glance. Lastly, his eyes settled on the silk bandages that wrapped around her face from midway up the bridge of her nose to her hairline, completely covering her eyes and forehead in the process.
When he finally spoke, the woman perked her head up, blindly meeting his gaze as if the bandages were not a true hindrance to her perception, "I did not find you by accident, Sarai-san."
His Japanese was fluid, perfect as any natural speaker's, but it was slower and enunciated in a way that told the woman he was used to dealing with foreigners, like herself, who probably mangled the language and needed more time to process everything.
The woman's lips quirked into a polite, but unconcerned smile and she sat her tea cup on the table, right in its spot on the saucer without seeming to pay much attention at all. When she spoke her words were slow, careful, and simple, "You do not look like the kind of man who makes a decision on a whim." She rested her chin in her hand, for all the world seeming to peer at the man before her despite the thick bandages that covered her sight.
Sakyou chuckled a bit and pulled another slow drag on his cigarette. "Very perceptive, Sarai-san," his compliment was answered with a polite bow of the woman's head before he went on.
"I did what I had to do to ensure your grandmother would sell me that exquisite collection of books. I was hoping they would have the missing information I needed." His head tilted to the side, some of his long hair falling over his shoulder in glossy black strands. "I was quite disappointed with the lack of substance they provided, but it seems my gamble brought something unexpected to light." His eyes rested on the unusual woman's form again, "You are potentially what I needed all along, but I was looking for the pathway to get there." He chuckled, his eyes closing momentarily as it rolled out of him in a low, throaty rumble.
Sarai's face was a mask of polite indifference. The man before her was more than intimidating and while she'd only known him for a short while and her contact had been limited and supervised, she knew that he was the kind of man who got what he wanted. The best course of action was to remain calm and neutral until she found out exactly what tune he wanted to dance to.
"I found references to your family and the nature of your curse in my research for another project. Her name was Muchiko Takanobu."
And that's when Sarai's carefully constructed facade crumbled into sand through Sakyou's fingertips. The dark haired woman's head snapped up, looking at him in disbelief. Then her energy flickered out, caressing his in a fashion that was impossible to detect, searching for falsehoods in his words.
Sakyou's mouth curled at the edges slightly when he saw her interest, "If I'm not mistaken, she was the progenitor of your condition. The first of the Scarred Mothers."
"How...did you find out about her?" Sarai's tone was careful, wary, and interested all at the same time. Finding out more about Muchiko Takanobu had practically been her life's work, but there was very little written about her. Just occasional mentions in the journals left behind from those who'd bothered to read that far back about their history. Unfortunately, the oldest and truest accounts had been burned during the witch trials and now the Mayfields were weak, anchor-less, and drifting in the fatted, lazy sea of modern day America.
He answered her question while revealing the heart of why he'd sought her out in the first place, "She wrote many of the details in her journal. I read that she had the power to heal any wound, to cure any disease, and was even able to bring the dead back to life." He watched her like a lion watches the surrounding wildlife.
Sarai's mind worked at top speed, pondering the implications of his statement. What he knew, what he wanted, what he would do to get it. What it meant to her, how she could use it, how she could get closer to breaking the damn curse. As she worked through all of that, she slipped back into her calm facade. With a polite smile she rested her chin in the palm of her hand again, "That makes sense. Gran says our powers were once rooted in healing, although it depended on the nature of the Scarred Mother. They've had other attributes from time to time. I haven't gotten back very far, but I know there were legends of healers." She shrugged with a somewhat regretful smile, "Although its really all conjecture at this point. The power tapered off when we lost our books. Its been over a hundred years since there was any real power in this bloodline."
He didn't speak for some time. His thoughts were locked away behind his eyes and that complacent smile. He looked very much like a chess-master about to put someone in check. "It seems that Takanobu-san had this power even before her curse was activated. Why do you think that is?"
The woman before him pondered his question as if it were a simple matter, something one might ask a friend over tea. Her confusion didn't show in her countenance. The Scarred Ones were still just humans and the only non-mundane thing about them was the curse and the effects it brought when activated. How did she bring life from the brink of death before the curse was even realized? "Hnn, I think its because humans are weak and my ancestors put far too much of their power into items they allowed to be destroyed or stolen away."
My statement seemed to amuse Sakyou. He actually started laughing, his dangerous eyes taking on a softer glint of approval at the woman's sense of humor and perception of the situation. "I agree," he finally said. "Humans are weak. Most sit around, they forget their true potential. They're lazy, fatted sheep." His declaration was met when an encouragingly amused look from Sarai. "The point is, with the right influence I believe you could have that power, too."
And that might have been checkmate. Sarai simply smiled emptily at him, tilting her head to the side in thought. Weighing out his words and testing his motives in her mind. Some distant part of her mind laughed at the idea that she was more interested in finding out what was driving this "too good to be true" situation than of possibly gaining some really cool super powers. What was this leading to? After a deep breath, she decided to stop stepping on eggshells and be blunt with her questions.
"Sakyou-san," she paused when his calculating eyes rested on her face, her mouth specifically, "what is in this for you?" He smirked, but didn't answer right away. He didn't seem irritated so she pressed forward. "What I mean to say is that even if I went and got some healing powers, like you researched, what is your stake in this? Are you sick?" The woman was polite in tone, her chin never moved from its resting place in her fingers.
He chuckled as he put out his cigarette and leaned back into his chair. "You're a clever woman, Sarai-san, and your intuition is spot on so I won't beat around the bush." He crossed his knee, resting one hand on it while the other held a glass of brandy. "I want you to make me a lot of money..."
Sarai's eyebrow quirked up, but she waited for him to continue. "All around the world," he began, "there are sick people dying every second and some of them are filthy rich and willing to spend anything to buy a little more time. Why not use a talent like that for profit? Of course, if you're the altruistic type you can always offer your services to some for free."
His logic was undeniable. She had the same thoughts before, whenever she saw superheroes who could heal people. It was like there was some unwritten code that just because you had great power, humanity got to call in favors whenever the hell it suited them, all the while bitching and moaning about collateral damage and a bunch of other asinine bullshit. To her, it seemed like if you really wanted to do some good, you get paid for curing a few billionaires and use your new found wealth to do even more good. I mean really, if you're going to fuck with the natural order, you might as well be smart about it and get something out of the deal as well.
Most importantly though, attaining any form of control over her curse was an incredibly attractive idea. There was just one very huge stumbling block to get from point A to point B. "And how would I go about learning these new skills?"
As his lips curled into a smile, one much like the cat that got the canary, Sarai realized she might very well be courting a deal with the Devil, but the rewards were too high. She steeled herself in caution as she tried to make progress on her own goals.
That conversation changed Sarai's life and put her on a path she never knew existed.
A/N: Thanks for checking out TMP! I have some great notes for this story that take me all the way through the anime and include an additional two which are completely original. Yu Yu Hakusho was an absolutely hilarious show with some really awesome characters so a lot of the props should go there because I really did my best to capture all the wonderful nuances of the canon from an OC perspective. I've done my best to make a character I think could fit into the world and add a little more diversity at the same time. I hope you enjoy the show, thanks sooooo much for taking the time to read something I've dreamed up. Please make sure to tell me what you think. I generally respond (eventually) to all the signed ones. :) Chatting with all of you is a third of the fun.