The Widow
Genre: Angst/Romance/General
Pairings: TOFUU
Warnings: OOC Characters
Summary: Not all stories have happy endings. Not all relationships continue in peace. Not all couples come out alive.

Italics will signify flashbacks.

Dedicated to the reviewers of Because of One Room. I love you guys.

Disclaimer: I don't own Flame of Recca. This fanfiction is not true nor is it being published to earn money, otherwise it wouldn't be called fanfiction. (Dark.)

-The Widow-

She was the widow of Japan, and nothing could change that.

Kirisawa Fuuko watched as the fine droplets of rain came drizzling down the dark sky. Alone.

What was she complaining about? She had been alone for 7 years now. The times of Hokage team were over, and members of it were going separate ways.

Recca and Yanagi had migrated, and were always too busy with their eight kids (Fuuko wondered who on earth had the right mind to have eight kids. Then again, Recca didn't have a mind) to bother about keeping in contact with her.

Domon had settled down with some anonymous girl of whom Fuuko had forgotten the name of. In Australia. It was surprising that Domon had actually liked her once, seeing as she had sent them tons of letters over the past years and all she had got was a few bunches of paper scribbled on with Domon's unreadable handwriting saying 'Best Friends Forever' Heck, with his writing skills, it could've even been saying 'Eat Some Snow', but Fuuko didn't want to know what it really was.

Here was the best part. Mikagami Tokiya died. 7 years ago. Why? Good question. Fuuko glared at her reflection in the mirror. It had been her fault, honestly.

Until today, she had no idea why he had done it. Her tears begin to drop, as if they were part of the rain outside. She didn't bother wiping them away. More was sure to come. The troublesome tears always did, whenever she thought about him.


"I have got WHAT???"

The doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You have got a weak heart, Ms. Kirisawa. I strongly suggest—"

"Weak heart? Doctor, we are talking about a hyper monkey who can't stop bouncing here, are you sure you've got the correct results?" Tokiya asked, eyebrows arched.

"Indeed, our results are correct, as they are always correct," the doctor answered, emphasizing on the lovely two syllables 'always'.

"That's not even theoretically possible!" yelled Fuuko in utter outrage. "I've fought in tournaments and won, mind you! I didn't faint or get massive stroke from those fights with the toughest fighters in the whole of Japan!"

"It may have developed after the tournament, Ms. Kirisawa," snapped the doctor, testily.

Fuuko sank into a chair, letting reality sink in. Weak heart? She still couldn't believe it. That would explain the sudden cause of fainting (like fainting right in the middle of the street onto a certain Mikagami Tokiya). Her stomach churned.

Tokiya gripped his wife's hand tightly. "Are there any donors that match?"

The doctor took a look at his clipboard before shaking his head. "No, sir. Unless, of course, you'd want to donate your heart to her," he added jokingly.

Tokiya's eyes widened, as if he had gotten the greatest idea of his life. The doctor must've noticed, because he hastened to say, in a polite tone, "I was sincerely joking, sir."

The Ensui master frowned. "I'm not."


Fuuko opened her dark blue eyes to a room of darkness. Willing herself to walk to the cupboard to get dressed, she trudged her way downstairs after that.

She'd fallen asleep thinking about the heart transfer again, the wind goddess figured. Pounding her fist onto the table in an attempt to soothe her rage, she gritted her teeth and glared at Tokiya's photo on her kitchen counter.

Her eyes softened once she remembered when she had taken that picture. It had been right after they had gotten married, at an amusement park, before Recca and Yanagi had gotten children, or before Domon had migrated.

Just the good old Hokage team together.


"Just one picture, please Mi-chan?"

The Ensui wielder scowled. "Does this look like a yes to you, Kirisawa?"

"Mikagami, you're always so uptight, even after your wedding," Recca observed, grinning. "Chill out."

"You're talking to an ice-block, Recca," Fuuko remarked casually as she readied her camera lens.

"Uh…figuratively speaking, Mikagami," Recca interjected, his grin growing wider by 4 inches.

Fuuko held the camera in position and snapped a picture, just coincidentally when Tokiya decided to duck. "Mi-chan!" she cried, in exasperation as she looked at a recap of the photo.

"The answer is no and will always be no, Kirisawa."

"OK, what do you want me to do to get you to stand still for like 3 seconds, oh great highness?"

"Dance in your underwear."


"Figuratively speaking, of course," Tokiya replied, attempting to imitate Recca.

"It's just one picture, Mikagami Tokiya!"

"Fine! On one condition, though," he answered, frowning deeply.

"And that is?"

"Hit Recca on the head for me, as hard as possible. He's jumping up and down like a moron and I do not want to admit that I know him."

Sighing, Fuuko mustered all her strength before delivering a severe knuckle sandwich to Recca's spiky head. Yanagi, enjoying the live entertainment with Domon, laughed and applauded.


Unfortunately for Recca, she wasn't listening, instead she was standing with the camera focusing on Tokiya. "Ready, set…DON'T DUCK!!! Ok, better, now, GO!"


Dang it, a second to late to duck, Tokiya thought impatiently as Fuuko grinned at him.

"I got his photo! I got his photo!" Fuuko jeered as she danced around.

Tokiya sighed. What on earth did he do to fall in love with this woman?


"Hn. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid Mi-chan!" Fuuko muttered, glaring at the photo again.

He had left her.

No, scratch that. She had made him leave her.

And she had nobody else to blame but herself.

The Widow of Japan.

Simply because she was the widow of Japan, and nothing could change that.


I got the idea when yanagi-chyan told me in her review – "I found this chapter more funny than sad because I knew Tokiya wouldn't die."

So here I am, making him die. (I'm so evil.) Crappy story. Review if you like the story, and flame if you need to do so to yell at me to edit the story (or delete it, in any case, to make the world a better place). However, I digress.