My name is Francine Jean D'Vauqueline, the youngest of three sisters, and by record, the most delinquent. My parents Henri and Camille kept me home schooled until my college years, and so when I finally entered the university, I did everything I ever wanted to do.
Academically, I wasn't gifted, or perhaps I was merely uninterested. Fencing, however, was a different story. It was my passion, my life. Being a natural, I rose to fame almost immediately, following the footsteps of my older sisters Raissa and Leala, and success got into my head just as fast. I was only snapped back to the reality that nobody was bound to stay up forever when I fell second in a major tournament, second to him, Mamoru Ichikawa.
I hated him. I hated how a foreign exchange student from the Orient bested me just like that. With the blood of my father running in my veins, I was bound to be the best swordswoman in the country, my sisters having given up the sport to focus on their lives' concerns. But as the cliché goes, the more you hate, the more you love. Rivals we were in the playing field, but outside it we forged a friendship that eventually rose to something much more. His conservative nature and passiveness, in contrast with my aggressiveness and outgoing attitude, made us the perfect pair.
After graduation, my thoughts were of marriage. I loved the man too much to let him go, and because he felt the same, he decided to meet my parents and ask for their approval. But that night, I learned of my arranged marriage with the Baron's son, Andre, and so I confronted my parents. They explained that as their youngest and favorite child they wanted me to have a good future, and if I would marry Andre, my life would lack nothing. And for them, marrying Andre meant keeping their bloodline alive under a reputable name.
But I couldn't accept their plans. I didn't care about bearing a title or being wealthy. I wanted to be with Mamoru and insisted upon it. We got into a heated argument, and that night, my father banished me, taking away not only my inheritance, but also my name. But in his arms, I found solace. He promised me a good life back in his own land, and so with nothing left, I agreed to leave France with him. For good.
My first few days in the cursed country I've come to know as Japan were days of bliss. The exotic foreign realm and the close friends of his who kept us company brought nothing but happiness in my heart. As we toured the place, he showed me the estate he had managed to acquire at the outskirts of Tokyo, proudly saying that he used up all of his wealth – which wasn't very much – just so I could have it. The house, which was still under construction, was a cross between our own homes. It was a luxurious European villa at the outside, with French windows to boot, and a simple yet sturdy-looking dojo in the inside.
But being far away from home, without an elder to keep watch over my actions, brought dire consequences. Exactly five days after I arrived with the man of my dreams… I had you.
He panicked when I told him of my discovery. He couldn't believe that he had lost control of himself, when he had always been so reserved, so conservative. But it had been done, and there was only one thing for us to do. To make our union official.
But he never made it to the church. He left me waiting at the altar. When I went to see him in his apartment, still in my wedding gown, he told me that he couldn't marry me because his parents didn't want to admit a foreigner into their family, and that his only choice was to obey them. I was enraged. I gave up everything for him, but he didn't even fight for me.
I immediately packed my bags. I was going back to France. But as I prepared for my departure, I hoped and prayed that he would show up at my apartment to take back what he said. It never happened. Instead, a stuck-up brunette dropped by and shoved a wedding invitation in my hands. She was Sumire, the only daughter of a wealthy businessman from Kanazawa, and the woman Mamoru was marrying.
That day, I swore to myself that as long as I was alive, he would never be able to go near you. You were mine, and even though he was your father, I gave him no right over you. I returned to France as the prodigal daughter, yet my father was no longer there to welcome me back with love. He died a few days after I left. He had a heart attack. My mother blamed me for his death, and so she refused to take me back. On the other hand, Raissa, my eldest sister, was willing to take me in, but when she found out that I was pregnant, she went into a mad fit, and shortly after, disowned me. She was a nun.
My other sister, Leala, was the one who took care of me. She ran a factory in Normandy, and so she gave me a job, aside from a small house she used to have as an apartment for rent. But I had to change my name and leave Francine Jean D'Vauqueline behind.
The man you've known as your father, Hideaki Jacques Marume, was the foreman, and was one very interesting person. He had lived in France all his life, but his father was half-Japanese, half-French, while his mother was half-American, half-French. I thought he took care of me because my sister asked him to, but I soon realized that he didn't even know who I truly was, only that I was a lonely soon-to-be single mother. Before the news of myself having an illegitimate child would spread, he straightforwardly asked me to marry him. He assured that he would take care of you as if you were truly his son. He didn't ask me to love him, and that helped me accept his offer, even though the wounds that had been inflicted on my heart were still fresh.
Jean… I'm sorry for keeping all this from you. I just wasn't sure when the right time was to tell you truth, and Hideaki didn't want me to rush it either. Hate me if you must, but don't hate Hideaki, and don't hate your father. He was reckless, yes, but so was I. So much more, in fact. And it wasn't true that his parents didn't want him to marry a foreigner. Sumire, who was his ex-girlfriend, found out about us, and she blackmailed him, threatening to kill us if he would not marry her. That was the truth he had wanted to confess, the truth that kept him – and me – a prisoner for sixteen years.
Hate me if you must, my son. But never forget that I, your mother, have always and will always love you.
Armelle Labeau Marume