title:kusanagi's story author:fft_teta_hyral e-mail: fft_teta_hyral@yabal.com warnings:none. notes:this chapter is set towards the end of the fifty year war and basically tells of the background to the main character, kusanagi mistubura. disclaimer: i do not claim to own fft, any of its characters,places,storylines ect. this is written purely for fun. although the characters kusanagi,amelia,and ukyo are my own:P ============================================================================================================================================== my name, kusanagi mitsubura...today is my 21st birthday.. i was borne to a young serving girl of 25 short years of life working for "the red chocobo inn" in the city of goland. my mother, amelia a young blonde beautiful,cheerfull person with a lively spirit and wonderfull singing voice, had to work most of my childhood to support us...my father ukyo having died at age 34 near the end of the fifty year war having his chocobo blown out from under him and throwing him into the path of an angry enemy behemoth...this occurred shortly after i was borne...sometimes during my childhood my mother would tell me stories of my fathers bravery and how he had once been part of a very noble and well respected family before he met and married my mother a common girl raised in the outskirts of zarghidas trade city.... ==============================================================================================================================================and although life was hard it wasnt so bad. we had a roof over heads and food on the table every night...and we still had each other...but, fate as i have learned can be a cruel mistress as i lost my mother to a petty gang of thieves out for gil just so they could get drunk for the night on her way home from work the night before my 6th birthday. the six of them dressed in blue and gold colored clothing most of it old and torn or coated with dirt and dried blood robbed,beat and raped her...they left her for dead in a dark alley not a block away from our home. somehow...i'll never know for sure how she managed to make it,leaving a small trail of bright red blood as she stubled with unsteady steps through the dark night towards home.but she somehow made it to the side entrance to the shabby boarding house we called "home". ==============================================================================================================================================colapsing at the bottom of the stairs with a dull thud and a low groan of pain slightly muffled by the falling snow, alarmed the cook marcus,hearing a noise just outside his kitchen door suddenly stopped his cheerfull humming and listened a moment hearing the thump outside and deciding to take a look while his fresh bread baked for the evening meal cooled on the table, found her covered in small bruises and cuts as well as another wide deep looking gash in her side turning the white snow crimson as she breathed her last... her parting words as her spirit fled this world were delivered to me the next morning were words of love and wishes for me to become a great man someday, like the father i never got the chance to know...=======================================================================================================================================within two weeks of her death i found myself, a solemn grieving child of 6 being carried off to an already overflowing orphanage to hopefully be given a new home by some loving couple but not many people are willing to take in anothe persons stray.i edned up staying in that same orphanage,st.anthony's for three years doing meanial chores to earn my keep. to say life was hard there would be an understatement...the chores were not the only tough part about this life.my dark brown hair cropped short just below my ears and strange violet colored eyes and young face with promise of one day being a handsome young man, made me the target of many beatings from older and larger stronger boys who had not yet been adopted and thought no one would want a bruise riddled child would increase their chances of being adopted....TBC