When you sleep, your mind drifts off to a distant dark pit before you are brought into the world every morning. Dreams aren't an occurrence, but when they do happen it surprises you. You hate dreaming. It was your father you would go to for comfort, and now it was just you waking up in a dark room on your own. You weren't sure you would go to him about this dream anyway.
Flashes of moments and sceneries danced behind your eyes. An opening scene of you standing in a winter field and as you walk you’d find yourself stepping in an ice puddle and sinking to the bottom of the pond. It would cut to firm hands grabbing you out the water and firmer hands pulling you back in, fighting for dominance over your body. A long black pause before you would find yourself in a dark room with a dimly lit candle. It seemed that you were sleeping, so you rolled over and crawled towards the candle to blow it out. As you made your way over, you felt slender hands slide up your thigh and around your waist. A warm presence approached you from behind before lowering himself onto you. A soft chest pressed against your back, but before you could question, you heard the sleep heavy voice of the samurai purring beside your ear, breathing down your neck.
“Can’t sleep, (Y/N)?”
Your eyes shot open and you sat up quickly. You pulled your (h/c) to the back to give your flustered face some air and caught your breath. You could still hear his voice in your ear, his breath on your skin and you reached your hand to the nape of your neck to feel if it was real. Obviously it wasn't, you scolded yourself before standing up. You just needed some fresh air. That was all.
You made your way to the deck before lowering yourself to the ground. The moon was bright, and full, looking over the land with her shiny face and glowing presence. The night was peaceful and quiet and it was exactly what you needed at this time. Something calming to counter the craziness slipping into your sleep.
The problem was reaching towards you, even at rest. You could ignore the intense eye contact building between you two. You could ignore the lingering touches during meals when you two would pass bowls of food. You could ignore the fact that you both enjoyed training and exercise because it was the only time you could give yourselves permission to touch one another. The way he says your name and how it makes you feel like you’ve entered warm waters, the waves convincing you to let go and drown. The way he laughs, the rare occasion you’d catch a smile. You could ignore it. You would until you had a plan. It didn't want to be ignored, and now it was in your dreams begging for attention and time. Time you weren't sure you had, and attention you weren't sure you wanted to give.
“Can’t sleep, (y/n)?”
You jumped and heard him snicker behind you. You weren't expecting him to be up at this time, but of course he would. Perfect timing. He sank beside you and stared ahead at the moon and the stars. Silence grew before you took the opportunity to ask him another question. It seems with him, you were always full of them which was unlike you. Or maybe he just pulled out a more curious side to you.
“Do you dream?”
His face didn't change, but his body did. He shifted slightly, reaching his arm back to relax behind him before answering
“I don’t like to.” He said plainly.
“What do you dream of?”
He turned to you and with a sad look in his eyes, repeated the question.
“What do you dream of?” he responded in a way that gave you a better answer than you had needed.You understood what he meant in that question. That the same monsters that haunt your dreams, most likely visit him as well. Ever since the conversation had in the field, a deeper understanding found its way between you two. This wall that divided you two had come down and now the only thing stopping you from reaching closer was your fearful minds. You weren't going to cross that border. You had never had to before, and you were unaware of what lay on the other side.
Two sides of the same coin. Kindred spirits in a way.
“What do you do with your bad dreams?”
“I do what you're doing right now. Sit outside and think. Sometimes I’ll train so hard my body exhausts itself.” He glanced over for your response, and sat up when he saw the distant saddened look cross your face.
Your mind was drifting to thoughts to a place of solemn loneliness as you realized how isolated you were in this world. As reluctant as he was to accept Ringo's presence, even Mizu had someone to accompany him on this journey of life. There was no father to calm you after a nightmare, there was no apprentice to make you warm meals, there wasn't even a home to go back to. Fear followed afterward. This world was not kind to women, and it was even more cruel to women who were alone.
Who cared for nightmares and terrors when every day for the rest of your life could be worse. You could walk down the road and be attacked by a group of drunken bored men. You’d have to find ways now to afford to even eat. The stories and horrors your father shared with you about the realities women faced seemed to be closer than you had realized. Their claws reached around the corner, they pulled at the helm of your cloth, they called your name in the dark. He was right. He would always be right. His voice echoed with them.
Slender hands reached around your waist, pulling you close to him before the other lowered your head onto his shoulder. It was an awkward effort to provide comfort, but only because you had not expected it. He held you there for a few short moments, his skin on yours bringing you back to the present.
“I don’t need your pity.” You mumbled against his collarbone
“This isn’t that.” His voice vibrated in his chest, cool and calm.
You pulled away gently to look into his eyes.
“Then what is this?” A soft whisper left your throat, frightened and confused.
You watched each other, looking for an answer somewhere beyond your eyes before you both came rushing into each other.
He leaned into your face and you met him halfway. It was gentle at first, both of you were surprised by the other's reaction, but after a few seconds you both fell into each other with passion. He held your head in between his palms, tilting your head slightly while he robbed the air from your lungs. You clung to his clothes from his waist, giving into his touch, leaning into his hunger. A warmth you had never experienced began to grow inside you, an ignited fire remembering to flame. It was just like the night you tousled onto the floor, except this time the inferno was being fed. Unsure what to do, your hands followed whatever they desired naturally. They trailed from his waist to his side, gripping and pulling him in closer and he obliged. You heard the palm of his hand hit the flood behind you as he lowered you onto it, still devouring your lips with the passion and greed of a man who’s never known a meal. Slowly, your hands began to reach for his chest. You needed to feel his heart move. You needed to feel his skin on yours. You needed to burn with him.
“Mmm-Don’t.” In just moments, he pulled away leaving a trail of saliva between your gaping maw’s. He quickly swiped at his mouth before pulling his robe, covering himself and combing his hair back with his fingers. He looked panicked, and guarded now; throwing you off guard from the few minutes of openness and tenderness shared between you two. You both sat back to catch your breath, you watching him and him looking off to the ground. Tilting your head, you tried to look into his eyes. What changed in a matter of seconds? Did you do something wrong? Was he now feeling the problem you had been feeling for some time?
“Was..” you took a few breaths “Did something h-”
“We should rest. The moon will set soon.” and with that he picked himself up and left. The cold current of his behavior sent chills through your skin as you sat there under the moonlight alone.
~
Three days had passed since the encounter on the deck and you had taken that time to spend with Ringo again. The routine of cooking and cleaning beside him brought a stability that was needed at this time. Your heart still raced when you sat by the samurai during your meals, and you could feel his eyes on you when you didn't join him for training. It itched at you to see what emotion stirred in them. Was it anger for using your womanly emotions to lure him into comforting you? Was there confusion for why you weren't joining him? Or could it be sadness, a furrow in his brow, a tightness to his lips..
This couldn't be how you two would be before he eventually would leave. What did he mean by it wasnt pity? What was it then? To pull someone in and hold her close to you, to meet lips and beg for more but not with words, with your body. And What was it to pull away so abruptly? What did any of this mean to you, you wondered. What did any of this mean to him?
That night you had decided to bathe in the hot spring not too far from the land. You preferred the bathing quarters, but you felt that you would run into Mizu. Not that you ever had. You don’t know when in the day he put aside for bathing, but he was always clean while here. You weren't ready to find out and have an awkward encounter in clothes that hid nothing but your naked bodies underneath.
Down to the bank you went, the silence of the night taken over by the sound of rushing water. You could feel the humidity from the hotspring dampening your skin, and you quickened your pace. Excitement swelled inside of you as you reached the ledge, just for you to freeze.
Mizu stood in the center of the pool, water from his hair dripping down his toned back and arms. From his stance you could tell he was at peace, enjoying the heat from the spring.
You considered joining him. It had been three days since you two had spoken. It was time to put aside this childish behavior and feed to your bodies what they had been craving that night. What was the point of denying anything when it was felt so strongly between you two. If you stepped into this pool, joined him in his nakedness, it wasn't confirmed anything would happen; but if anything did happen you wouldn't do anything to stop it. Granted, you didn't have any experience for what was to happen between the two of you, but you had seen enough from your missions and watching. You had hoped he would be more gentle, or maybe you wouldn't mind.
Taking a deep breath, you poked your toe into the pool and let the warm pull the rest of your foot into its warmth. You heard his arms drop as he turned around quickly. Shock spread across his blushed pink face before you looked up from your foot.
Soft breast.
There was a long silence between you two before you removed your foot from the pool.
“(Y/N..)” you heard her say, but she didn't move towards you.
Wrapping your robe tighter around your frame, you rushed away from the hot spring. The trees and the ground spun and merged and fused around you as you moved without thought. Quick enough for your thoughts to not catch you until you reached the deep corners of your room. It was there you couldn't escape them, and they rushed you without mercy.
It was like summoning the spirit of a shadow to your beck and call. Wisps of silence followed by your silent footsteps. Your presence now known, you made yourself available for whatever he requested of you. The light of the candle bouncing off the walls and onto your face, creating illusions of shapes and figures on the wall and onto you.
Straightening your back, and correcting your posture you approached his side, standing far enough to leave a little distance for respect. He hovered over you greatly, his back turned to you. His presence was overwhelming to many, but not as overwhelming to you like it used to be. After years of being close to him, and standing by his side you’ve learned to enjoy the warm rays of the sun. To bask in its light and let it warm the cold corners of your mind with its reassurance and comfort. To take in its greatness.
“Father, I’m here.” Your voice is quiet, stable. Not that he needed a confirmation that you were present. No one could tell if you were in the area or not, as you were skilled at what you do. You had built yourself a reputation for being as silent as an empty room. No one could detect your presence as quickly as your father could. He always knew when you were around, he could sense you. That’s how close your bond was. To others though you slipped between the shadows of a room, as quiet as
“My little mouse, ” A nickname from years ago. Early childhood. The first nickname you’ve ever received actually. From anyone else you would have found it an insult as they were comparing you to a rodent that scavenged for trash outside on street corners, but coming from your Father it made the world feel at ease. Like it was a safe place to be. His voice was low and soothing, beckoning you to come closer, and you did. Finally stepping to his side, you were able to stand over and view what he was waiting for you to see.
His attack plans and strategies were always thought out. Organized. Detailed. Precise. No piece or plot left missing, no turn or corner left unchecked. Displayed on the table before him, adjusted to his liking. With a mind as grand as his, and plans even bigger there was no room for mistakes. Honor and pride filled your heart whenever he shared any details with you of his goals, and even more when he sent you on missions to help him achieve them.
There was a reason you were called his “Mouse”. Your father was the sun, and every light casts a shadow. You were that shadow. Your father, as grand as he is, couldn't be everywhere at the same time, but with you it’s almost like he could be. Unlike everyone else, he stands out quite a bit. Not a lot of people living here in Japan have seen a man of his color. A white man from a foreign land, here to do foreign things. Most people gawk and stare at him if they get the chance to see him, as he looks far from your ordinary japanese citizen. His hair seems to be in competition with the sun as it is as golden as the great star in the sky, and his eyes are the lightest shade of blue, like the sky it inhabits. He towers over most of the people here with his height, and his build is different, more broad. Though he is different from everyone around him, he finds no shame in it. You watch him from corners as he strolls into rooms with a silent confidence that demands attention. He is the sun, resting gently on the horizons of Japan.
You are not the moon, you’re not even the stars. You don’t mind it now as it makes performing tasks for him a lot easier. Wherever your father tells you, you go. Slipping into the shadows to find whoever and wherever. For years, your father has trained you to be his eyes and ears for where his grande presence would become too much of a distraction. You're his sight into the rooms he can't explore, echoing back the words and plots being whispered behind closed doors. Sometimes, you're his final say. Slipping poison into the cups of those who drink to betrayal, or cold sharp iron to the necks of those who have removed the collar of obedience to your father. Everything you’ve been taught, from spying to assassination, has been taught by this man. Everything you do is for this man.
Your mind begins to slip, stepping into the doorway of the past. Memories dance behind your eyes, reminding you why your gratefulness will never find an end. You never find peace in this specific room of memories. There is no tenderness or love in the beginning as it opens up to you, dragged by your thin, fragile elbow and thrown onto the floor like a rag doll.
“Take her.” The voice of your mother that night still rings in your mind like it did fourteen years ago. Cold, and desperate. You’ve heard farmers speak over their cattle with more kindness.
You dared to turn your gaze from the floor to meet her eyes. You could smell the fear that lay under her skin, how it furrowed her eyebrows, how it oozed out her temples and dripped down her face. She finally made eye contact with you, and for a quick second you thought you had seen a look of regret before disgust crossed it.
“She’ll do him good. She’s young, learns quickly.” she spoke over you like a desperate merchant trying to make his last sale.
“A girl holds as much value as a rat,” the man spoke, his voice booming through you and your mother.
“What he wants is the information you owe him. He’s given you enough chances to do what you do to make it. Now, where is it?”
At this point he gets into your mothers face, his height towering over hers tremendously. She stutters over her words, still trying to sell you off, and they begin to argue. The sound of two adults voices rising, sending fear running up your spine. Men arguing with your mother wasn't new to you, but it didn't mean you enjoyed the sound. Lucky for you, you’ve always been a quiet girl, attention never seemed to follow you and it didn't here as you slipped out the room into the night. You crawled to the front of the little hut you and your siblings called home. There was little to no room for any of you, and even less food to spare amongst all of you, but you found ways to sneak scraps from your older siblings whenever you could.
You noticed a shadow overcast you and realized you were kneeling in front of a carriage. You had never seen one this grand before. It looked foreign, and new. The horses that carried it were sleek and as black as the night. The windows were too dark to look into, but you felt someone was looking at you from inside.
The sound of a woman screeching, and the smell of smoke washed over your curiosity as you quickly turned your head to catch what you had been missing behind you. Your little corner of the world that you had called home was now a blaze, and you could hear your mothers voice from the inside. You couldn't tell if she was pleading or just screaming, but it shook something inside of you that you had never experienced before. The man who was arguing with her finally stepped out, using the fire that reached behind him to light his kiseru pipe, adding the scent of tobacco to the night sky. Smoke left his nostrils like a dragon as he exhaled, lifting his head towards the moon, a look of relaxation crossing his face. You could hear conjoined screams and realized it wasn't just your mother being burned alive, but the rest of your siblings. Your family and you didn't have the sound relationship a mother and daughter or sister and siblings should have, but they were all you knew. All you had. You choked back tears, the sound catching the attention of the smoking man burning your past away.
“Ah,” he spoke, taking in another puff. “There you are. I didn’t see when you slipped out. Little rat-” he began to approach you, his footsteps shaking the ground around you as you sat there frozen to it. You could run into the woods, but how soon until he caught you. If he doesn't, surely the fire will spread and catch up with you soon. If you make it, then what? Who would take you in? Your mother wasn't very popular amongst the women of the town, so no one owed her any favors. Men around here rarely paid attention to the children wandering the streets, but when they did it was never good. Your options were limited and you didn't believe in the kindness of strangers.
Before he could lay a hand on you, towering over you already, another voice spoke behind you. You didn't know when he arrived, or why you didn't hear him, but you could hear the authority in his voice. Calm, powerful.
“Leave her.” The new presence spoke. Slowly, you turned your head to catch his shoes. Those too were foreign. They had traces of gold, you had never seen gold this close before, and a material that you could tell was also expensive. You trailed your eyes up his attire, finally meeting his eyes just to see that he was already meeting yours. His head blocked the light of the moon like an eclipse, and his eyes scared you at first. You had never seen eyes that shade of blue before ever in your life. You had never seen someone who looked like him ever in your life.
“Can’t you see you're scaring her?” he began to kneel, the clean cloth of his pants touching the dirt you sat on.
“My apologies, Sir. The damn thing was so quiet I didn't notice she left. I can get rid of her quickly and so we can continue-”
“That won’t be necessary.” You were face to face with the strangest man you had ever seen, as he was now at your level. You were still processing his face. Eyes blue, and not a dark brown like your neighbors, hair golden even in the night light and not as black as the raven's wings. His face was long, angular and his eyes were round. Even his nose was shaped differently. But you didn't find him ugly. You could tell that where he was from he was well groomed, and would be considered handsome.
The sounds of frantic screaming broke out again as the fire spread. You recognized one of your siblings, and immediately tore your eyes from his. Though life wasn't the best, you were reminded that all you knew was being burned to the ground. All the scents in the air were beginning to make you sick, and your heart was breaking, sharp shards falling into your stomach, adding to the queasy feeling you felt. You choked back another cry, but the tears were threatening to break through. Turning back to the man who kneeled, you noticed he never stopped looking at you. He wasn't looking at the fire, or the other man apologizing for his lack of duty. But at you. A small child he just met by chance on this red night.
“Why do you cry?” he asks you finally, his eyes never breaking yours. It is then that you realize that the dam had broken, and the ocean behind your eyes had won.
“Not everything lost is a loss,” he spoke to you with calmness in his tone. Words that fell from his mouth felt like the final say. If he said the night sky was now day as long as he spoke it, it would become true.
And yet you still quivered. From fear of the unknown your future had instored for you, from the tears and sadness that left your body, from the coldness of the night. There was so much to shake for, and he was as steady as a rock, no mind the ocean waves washing against it. Nothing affected him. Nothing moved him. Not the fire, not even your tears.
He pulled you in close, his large arms engulfing you and shading you from the heat of the flame. It was then you allowed yourself to cry. Truly and fully cry. The sobs broke through you, the sound of weakness threatening to echo through the night now muffled by his coat that your tiny hands clung onto. Soft words you've never heard before spoken from a man filled your ears and settled in your young mind. His voice, soothing and cool, offered a comfort you had yet to experience. They drowned out the flames behind you, and they tamed the racing thoughts in your mind. They were your final say.
“I need you to be here.” his voice brought you back to the present. Your father, the man who saved your life, was now looking over to you. His face warm, and patient. His eyes never leaving yours. You straightened your back, corrected your posture. In the presence of greatness. The shadow of the sun.
Days were like seeds planted into the soil and left to nature to cater to as they grew into weeks, but they never tended to so they became months bearing no fruit. Your only priority was to rest as the weather outside began to melt snow off tree branches and roof tops ever so gently. As the icicles turned to puddles on the soil beneath the trees, you found yourself growing more and more accustomed to this new way of living like the flowers that would soon sprout from the ground when spring’s blushed yukata brushes the earth, making her presence known to all.
As of right now she was in hiding, showing hints of warmth on the surface of snow or in the sunlight that warmed the door entrances. In a way, she was like you. Refreshed and new as your body has healed almost completely from the harshness that came along with your winter beatings. It wasn’t yet her time to come out to the world and bring her colorful spirit and fruitfulness in every footstep; but for you you were not sure if you would ever come out of hiding. For you, the winter of your mind still trailed behind you threatening to take you deep that time again. His iced fingers you could hear snap and pop as he reached for you, his cold breath on your neck. You were sure if you stayed put for long enough he would catch you and it would be harder to break from his cold grasp. You moved to keep yourself from being swept away
It seemed that the blue eye’d man had the same idea or atleast a similar one as he was always up and moving. The routine was simple. By the time you had woken up, Ringo had a meal set out for you and his master who had already eaten his portion before leaving. You would eat and then decide if you were to take a walk or keep the apprentice company. Helping him with chores helped your poor muscles build strength again so you offered where you could until he had enough of you and rushed you away. For a man with no hands, he was very independent and prided himself in being so. You would leave him to himself then, and on the way out you would spot his master.
He was always training. Even when you both were badly injured, he was outside swinging his sword with whatever strength he had, or having his tense muscles massaged and stretched, or meditating. There was no resting muscle in his body. At first it concerned you as you had not been training and you had a detailed memory of how good he was before his injuries. How frustrating it was to go up against him. It had been a while since you two had fought like that, but you were sure that at this rate he would dominate you once again.
It frustrated you walking by him during his training sessions, but overtime you found a small seed of admiration planted in you. Whether it was by you or his Ringo who sings his praises you weren't sure, but his determination and discipline was commendable. He was a man of little words, but his movements said everything. They spoke of time and effort, and sang a story of trial and error. Of lost and regained strength. He fought with purpose. The same way you do.
You recalled a few conversations Ringo had with you when you would help him in his daily routines. Still putting up a face of nonchalance, you’d respond with simple sentences whenever his master became the topic.
“ You're healing just fine which I am glad for. Look at how you lift those trays. I know Master is glad you’ve regained your strength too-”
“So he can kill me properly?” You said semi-coldly, dropping the tray on the shelf with a small thud.
“He wouldnt..Not after all you both had been through.”
“You mean what he brought upon himself and now I?”
The apprentice let out a small sigh and shook his head, lifting a large bag of rice before you could get to it.
“Despite your past with him, he isn’t as cruel as you believe.” and as he headed towards the door he turned to you and with his eyes alone you could tell he was speaking the truth.
“He asked about you every day.”
There were times during your healing when you were stuck in the room you thought you had heard his voice outside of your room. You were so deeply injured you had thought to yourself during those times that if now was a good time, let it be quick. If he was deciding whether to take your life or let you suffer just a little longer, you prayed he would make the decision to do what you couldnt and be rid of you. Isn’t that what demons do? Take souls and light them aflame, burn them out of existence? That would be better than the healing process. The pain was so bad at times, you couldn't even pay attention to the conversations behind had right outside the room.
Now when you walk by him on your way from Ringo’s duties, you watch him a little closer. Your lenses had changed but to what color you weren't sure. Spring was showing itself by leaving small hints of her presence here and there. Snow melting off the roof. Ice on branches turned to nourishing droplets for the soil. A seed you had never seen in this season had been planted within your soil. You just felt it day by day. Week by week.
The man turned and locked eyes with you, feeling your presence from afar. His body was tired, but his soul still burned with energy. He would train until the sun touched the earth and then trail his sweaty body and soaked garments into the room to eat with his apprentice and captive. You would eat in silence, and he would eat fast enough to leave. That was routine.
“Dinner will be ready soon.”
You ripped your eyes away first. The seed would eventually die inside of you. There were no grounds soft enough inside to encourage its growth. No living sprout within you would survive these conditions. You’ve done more killing than nourishing. You were no garden, let alone a gardener. In this way, you were like winter.
~
With a night as dark and clear as this one, the stars seemed to dress themselves in their most glistening attires and display their brightness on the dark stage of the sky. You planned to take a seat outside and enjoy the show. The air offered a brisk taste in the back of your throat, and a cooling sensation to your skin as you whisked away into thought. Remembering a more simple time. A young girl in her fathers lap as he pointed to the night sky, testing your memory.
“And that one is?” your father waited
“Taurus. The bull.” a younger you responded excitedly, confidently.
“And that one?”
You raked your brain for the answer before responding quickly. “ The lion.”
“Good, good.” your fathers coo’s fed your soul and quickened your heart. His praise made you feel comforted and secure.
“Father,” you began to ask. “Are there any mice in the sky?”
“Are there any mice in the sky?” he repeats your question
“Yes,” you start. “I see bulls, and heroes. I even see lions. Like you, Father.” He smiles at the mention of you referring to him as a the great royal beasts of the jungles he’s told you stories of.
“But where am I in the stars? Your little mouse.”
He’s quiet and for a moment you thought he had forgotten your question, distracted by the beauty of the stars.
“In order to be a star, you must shine. Only greatness dwell among the stars,” he states plainly before tilting his head to give you a look you had never seen before the warmness of his smile returned. He continues.
“A mouse can bite, but never kill. It can hide, but never chase. The little mouse could only get the smallest star, but we can never see it due to the brilliance of the others. There is no room for the small in a sky so large.”
Before you could find the words to speak, you feel his arm pull you in closer.
“but I have made enough room for you, my little mouse, have I not?”
The memory pierced the skin of your chest, into the ribs, and through your heart. It spun the surrounding veins, twisting and scaring everything around it, and making it hard to pull in air. A lump formed in your throat, and you felt the dam behind your eyes threaten to break. You bite your lip, hoping the sudden physical pain would take away from the one in your chest. The one stitches, nor Ringo’s soup would be able to reach. Be able to heal.
Light footsteps approached you from behind and you were surprisingly grateful for them. After breaking the barrier of ice between you two, there was still cold air but it wasn't unbearable. It brought his apprentice much comfort to see you two interact even if it was small. On a night like this he could hopefully offer you a better distraction than the one you were attempting.
“You didn’t finish your bowl.” he spoke to you in a low calm tone, not bothering to ask if he could sit with you.
“You have my permission to finish it for me if that’s why you're here..” You responded, a hint of a coldness to the teasing tone hidden between your words. The time you’ve spent together has let you witness his eating habits. Quick, rushed, like a man in the middle of war. A man who’s never experienced the delicacies of food. The first time you watched him bring the bowl to his lips, he consumed the soup Ringo had made as if it was his last. You remembered how it shocked you at first, but in a strange way it began to entertain you. Unknowingly you found yourself waiting for him at the dinner table, not because you couldn't eat alone, but because it was fun to watch his reaction to whatever Ringo had made that evening. You found yourself thankful for whatever stars were in line to appoint Ringo and his master paths crossing so that you could see this brooding man gather food in his cheeks like a little boy.
You could see him out of your peripheral vision. One leg lifted for him to rest his arm, and the other extended. He was relaxed, even his attire wasn't tied as tightly, draped a little looser than usual.
“Are your wounds affecting your appetite?” he asked, and you weren't sure but you thought you had heard a hint of shyness to his voice. Ringo was right. You appreciated the directness in an odd way. Like your dagger. Like his sword.
“My appetite is just fine. I told Ringo I don’t eat as much. He still fills my bowl to the brim like my stomach has no end.”
“Not finishing hurts his heart.”
“Finishing hurts my stomach.”
He scoffed, and you smiled. You both seemed to enjoy the silence that followed afterwards. Not harsh, or unintentional, but a comfortable silence. The kind of silence you share with a soul familiar to your own; the kind of silence where words aren't needed.
Off in the distance somewhere, you both can hear Ringo humming a tune. An old song about the merging of souls. You weren't aware that Ringo enjoyed the romantics, but getting to know him now it made sense. Ringo was a soft soul, one you could never imagine tarnished and blackened by the darkness the world could provide. You wondered how he could remain that way, given the stories of abuse he’s told you of his time at his fathers shop. The beatings, the cruel words, the even crueler customers and yet he seemed to move through the world light on his feet.
“He’s in a good mood.” You spoke first
“He’s always in a good mood.” The man responded coldly, but you could tell there wasn't any genuine coldness behind his words.
“Do you know the song he hums?”
He readjusted his body, shifting slightly. Here you turned and saw him lay his head back on the wooden post, closing his eyes. His hair wasn't in the tight bun it usually was in. It was relaxed. He had a more feminine touch here, but you weren't sure if it was the darkness of the night playing tricks on your eyes. His features seemed to soften, strands of hair delicately touching his more exposed neck. You began to squint, now focused below his jaw. Something was missing, but you weren't sure what just yet. If you could just look a little closer-
“It’s some love song played in a puppet performance.” He spoke with his eyes closed, his voice taking your focus away from what your mind was wandering to before. You could see the skin between his eyebrows scrunch and furrow as he spoke on the topic of love.
“Something about the merging of separated souls who cross paths again just to be distanced. The story has no happy ending.”
“As is life.” You responded.
“As is life.” he let out an exhausted sigh.
A few quiet moments pass before you speak again.
“Do you believe souls can merge…?” You waited for his name now. It was daring and you weren't sure if he would comply until he spoke softly. He said it like he was a stranger to himself. He said it like he forgot he was a person.
“Mizu”
Very fitting. He had given you no family name to respectfully address him by, so you didn’t either.
“Y/N.”
“Well, do you believe in souls merging”
“Like a river crossing paths with another, leading a stream into the ocean?” The few times you would catch him speaking, he spoke in poetry. Like a river. He had a way with words when he wasn’t in battle.
“Like two flames of lights shooting past one another. Coming together as one, landing in the river. ” You weren't heavily educated but you could speak in the words of an artist too.
“A conjoined meteor, cooled by the winds to be separated soon by greedy hands.”
“Do you believe in it?”
“Is there a reason to?”
You thought about it for a second, thinking of all the depictions of love you’ve seen in your life up to this point. Though you’ve never gotten the chance to experience such a feeling, or the time to imagine yourself in it, you’ve seen how it’s made people act. What it’s made others do.
“I’ve been told it gives one a reason to live, to breathe.” You said softly
“You give yourself a reason to live. Everything else is unnecessary. Additional.”
You could see the conversation was beginning to make Mizu a bit argumentative, so you sighed and focused your attention back on the stars above you. You had been distracted from their twinkling performance by a man as quiet as a gentle stream and as unpredictable as the ocean.
“I was married once.” He mentioned it briefly, as if treading around the topic in hopes it wouldn't bare its teeth, latching onto his arm, drawing blood like a starved dog threatening to take him down memory lane. This was news to you. Not that you found the man not fit to marry, but the man you’ve observed and slowly grown to know through said observation didn't seem the type to marry. A man who prefers his solitude over the company of many.
“Did she die?” you asked directly. Might as well cut the corners.
“Yes.” You were surprised by the quick response.
“From?” You weren't surprised by the silence that followed this time.
Your mind naturally began to race. Mizu. The demonic tsunami washing through Japan leaving a trail of blood with every footstep. This infamous blue eye’d samurai. He used to be married. Was he in love with her? Is that the reason why he was on this path? You’ve seen people do crazy things for the ones they love, is this one of them? A man turned insane with bloodlust from the touch of love now removed from his grasp? Was this the result of a soul touched just to later be lost? Was it his fault he lost her? Did he kill her?
You sat alone in your mind, unaware that now Mizu’s eyes were open and watching you chase your thoughts like wild horses. You finally spoke.
“I never planned on marriage.” Honesty. You never thought about anything but your father. How to please him. How to aid him. How to be of assistance. You were either on a mission, basking in his greatness, or resting in his shadow. There was no room for another man in your life. He had been sure to take up all of it.
“Why not?” He finally responded.
“It was never really fitting to me.” You thought about the quiet life of becoming a wife. Marrying a man and submitting to someone, anyone other than your father. In an earlier time, the idea would have brought you to sickness. Giving up the freedom and protection your father has gifted you by being associated to him to settle for someone who probably could never live up to him irked you. Now, without your fathers light, you must use your imagination. The idea doesn't sound as appealing still, but now you don’t have any excuse as to why you couldn't see yourself marrying a man. Your father explained that those were the options for women. Become a wife, or become a prostitute. Throwing their bodies at any man whose pants rang with the promise of currency for their provided services. That didn't sound ideal to you either. These were all the choices women had, and like your father had now reminded you, you are no longer his daughter. You’re just a woman. Worse, a stupid girl. These were the choices that laid beyond you for your future now.
“I am no man’s wife.” you spoke with an unwarranted anger in your tone, a scowl forming on your face. Nothing Mizu had said made you upset, it was your own thoughts on the circumstances you find yourself in.
“You're no man’s wife?” Mizu repeated.
“Mhm.”
You soon heard Mizu snicker, and then begin to laugh. A look of surprise washed away your scowl as you quickly turned your head to the man. He found this humorous for some odd reason, and you found it odd that he was laughing. It was odd to hear. It was nice.
“Please direct me to the joke. Because I don’t remember saying one..” You huffed, attempting to appear upset and looking back up at the stars.
“You just sound like someone I know.” and he continued to laugh.
Though his laugh was an odd pleasure to hear, you couldn't help yourself. You weren't really angry, but you didn't particularly enjoy being the butt of a private inside joke. Picking up your water, you dipped your finger into the cup, letting the now cool liquid accumulate on the tips before flicking some into Mizu’s face. His blue eyes widening now from the shock of the unexpected liquid touching him. Now it was your turn to laugh as his expression quickly turned to an angry pout. Like a little child. You flicked another, and another, and soon he had had enough.
“Alright.” you heard him grunt, moving positions to crawl towards you.
“Oh no, is it not my turn to laugh?”
Dashing back, you got yourself up quickly still spritzing water into his face occasionally. He got up with you, quickly following your footsteps as you entered the room to escape him. His arms raised as he tried to defend himself from the cold water droplets being flicked at him off your fingers. Eventually he would lunge, you knew it to be true. He would try and take this cup from you. You quickly had to shift your mind from offense to defense as the game would be over if that happened. Your goal became to keep the cup in your hand, while still shooting at his face. You could see the challenge acceptance twinkle in his eyes as he saw the challenge request light up in yours. Your movements were like the water you hold. Fluid, moving, but so was his. You became dance partners, dodging and weaving between one another's movements. He’d reach for the cup, you’d switch it to another hand. He’d reach for your hand, you’d sway your body away from him. It was like this for a minute before he switched motives. You saw it in his eyes, but before you had the chance to counter he had already tackled you. Water spilled and so did laughter as both you and the cup fell to the floor. Now you two wrestled. He had been training this whole time, but that didn’t mean you would give him an easy win. You shifted and adjusted, kicking at his lower limbs to catch him off balance so you could shift his weight off of you. It worked and soon you were on top, pinning the man down by the wrist. Looking down, you met Mizu’s gaze. Lighthearted excitement flowed between your eyes and his like a river.
As the heavy breaths and panting began to slow, and you found yourself drifting away in thought. How did this happen? Only a few months ago this man was your target. You watched his every move, unaware that he was watching yours. A month or two later, you were being held captive. You despised him and everything he was, everything you knew about him. Now you have his body pinned to the floor between your legs, his heavy breath intermingling with yours, his blues never breaking eye contact with your (E/C). In an earlier time, this would've been the perfect time to strike, but once again you find yourself hesitating. Watching him watch you.
“I planned on killing you” You spoke in a breathy tone.
“I did too.”
“Do you plan to kill me now?”
“Do you?”
It seemed you both were looking for the answers in eachothers eyes. For some hint of the truth of intentions. Far off in the distance, you could hear Ringo humming the same tune he was before. He was getting closer from the sounds of it. You turning your head to look behind you lessened the grip on Mizu’s wrist, giving him enough time to break free. His hand on your waist, his hips bucking upward to lift you off the floor, his leg overpowering yours. He had you pinned in seconds. You were forced to look up at him now, a small smirk of approval painted on his lips. He was satisfied that he had won, that he was on top. You could see it behind all the dark strands that draped his face. His features now looked more appealing than they ever had before. Your eyes drifted from his, to his lips, to his neck, unwillingly. You could feel a rush of heat rise under your skin like a furnace that had just been started. You knew what it meant when you began to grow hot. It was usually anger, the only heat you were used to. This was different. You didn’t know what this feeling was.
You didn't follow Mizu’s hand as it reached over your head, lowering his face closer to yours. You were too distracted by what was on top of you to notice what was being done above you. Ringo’s humming still carried on with the tune of the wind, your body temperature began to rise, your breath increasing, your eyes losing focus. In an odd way, you felt thankful to be on the floor as the room began to spin in your mind.
A cold sensation splashed on your face, causing you to blink several times. It took you a minute to realize, but he had pinned you right under the spilled water cup. He had collected whatever was left in the cup and spritzed it on your face.
“You looked like you could use refreshments.” his witty smirk grew on his face again before he chuckled. Whatever face you had made was clearly funny to him.
“Master-” Ringo’s voice called from a closer location now.
“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” and with that, Mizu pushed himself off of you, but not before spritzing a few more droplets on your face. You spat and shook, wiping your face desperately with your sleeve.
Before leaving the room, he turned to you watching you use your elbows to raise yourself up. You made eye contact with him, and attempted to put on the best playful scowl you could. He shut the door gently, but the smile he had given you was even more gentle.
You caught yourself wondering what his wife felt like, looking up to him every morning. You decided you had bumped your head too hard and the heat under your skin was simply just early spring. The seed sprouting within you had roots now. You hadnt decided what to call that just yet.
Cold night air greeted you, slipping its fingers through the cloth of your attire to leave hidden kisses on your skin. You had no real plan for how this would go, you had no idea on what you would say, you had just decided enough was enough and it was time to face your confusions head on.
From a distance, you could hear the water movement of the hot spring ahead. You knew she would be occupying its waters at this time of night. Just like when you caught her the first time. Her..The thought of her made you hold onto your robe a bit tighter. The signs were all there now that your mind was cleared by focused determination and you could think about it, but you weren't thinking about it. You stopped thinking about what she could have been hiding from you as you grew closer. Now that her secret was revealed to you, it has removed the rug, revealing more about you than you were ready for but that didn't matter. It was time to address these thoughts.
Your feet stopped at the edge of the spring, where the earth and water met. You stared down at it, your reflection stared back at you. Crossing this line would mean entering the waters with Mizu. It would mean facing Mizu’s truth and facing yours. That despite discovering Mizu was a woman, the feelings that nested within your heart never died. They still settle, baby birds in the spring waiting to be fed.
You looked up to catch Mizu watching you. A painter's canvas, different emotions were displayed on her face like colors. Shades of sadness, and regret. Of fear, of confusion. Of yearning. She missed your presence as much as you missed hers but you needed the distance. Even if it hurt. Feelings like this for a woman as a woman were unheard of. You’ve never met anyone who felt this way. You’ve never seen it. This wasn't like learning to throw knives, or learning to quiet your steps so that you truly become shadow like. There were only two options for this. Slip it away into the shadows to never be seen again, or let it stand in the light. Hide it, or be bold. You let your robe drop to the ground, puddling around your feet. Boldness became you.
Mizu backed away slightly as you entered the spring, fear and confusion becoming the main colors on her face. Holding your breath, you walked towards her. The spring water felt nice on your skin in contrast with the wind and the steam felt even better. You would not break eye contact. You could not break eye contact. You had to show her you weren't scared. You were willing to accept her nakedness now, her vulnerability, her secret. To reveal yours. To stand with her in her waters.
When you finally reached her, you realized you had stopped breathing. You were more anxious than you realized, but that was okay. You were being bold. Bravery walks with fear behind him, but never lets him lead. You stared into her blues, straightening your posture even though she towered over you. You would show her you were no longer frightened and indecisive. You had made your choice, and it was her. Silence passed between you two before she spoke finally, her voice low but not as confident as it usually was.
“I’ll leave-” she began, making her move around you.
“Don’t.” you cut her off with a whisper, freezing her in her spot. The silence continued.
You were truly lost here. You didn't have a plan which was unlike you, didnt think about what to say, and every miniature speech you had forming in your mind didn't seem fit. You were sure that there were no words ever spoken in the history of this world about a scenario such as this one. You must have been the first. That thought brought you discomfort. You felt so alone in the world with these feelings. So small which wasn't new to you but this wasn't like the good feeling of being small in a safe space. You felt small in a large room with nowhere to hide. You began to regret this idea.
“Im sorry-” “Forgive me-” Mizu and you spoke at the same time. The sudden interruption of eachothers voices caused you both to pause, heat rising in your faces.
“You have nothing to be sorry for-” She started
“I fled from you like a coward..” The memory of you turning and running back home stuck in your mind again. Mizu’s face, leaving her there alone. The guilt settled in, making it hard for you to hold eye contact now. You folded your arms over your chest, your shoulders rising to your neck. The warmness of the spring now felt cold.
“I hid from you like a coward.”
Slowly you shifted your gaze from the blues of the spring, to the blues of her eyes. She was still looking at you, the colors of guilt painted on her face as well. You slowly unfolded your arms, bare chest facing hers. It was understood at this moment that you weren't alone in this. Mizu had been feeling these emotions as well. You weren't sure how new to this she was, but you grew comfortable in knowing that you stood in this understanding together, the same way you stand bare in this spring. You were here, and so was she. Frightened by the vulnerability, but together in the pool of it.
Reaching out your hands, you gathered hers in your palms. Her slender hands calloused from constant trainings and fighting with her sword were larger than yours. Her fingers extended in length to interlink with yours. She began to close the distance, spring water creating ripples around your bodies. It was her turn to be brave, and you were accepting it.
“I won't hide from you.” She said in a whisper, her warm breath tickling the skin on your cheek.
“And I wont run from you.” Your voice was shaky, being this close to her was affecting you more than you thought. Nothing separated you from touching. No anger or hatred, no clothing or weapons, not even the water. Chest to chest, hand in hand. It sent rushes of excitement through your veins. Your eyes shifted from left to right, then slowly lifted to meet hers again. She was already looking into yours. A plentiful of thoughts ran through your mind. Mizu’s hair lay laxed, reaching to the middle of her back with the little black coil that was as stubborn as she was, refusing to slick back like the rest of her hair but you thought it charming. Her skin was decorated with battle scars and stitches from previous life threatening fights, you found yourself admiring her strength. To be thrown into battle and come out alive each time; greatness must lie within her for her to survive this many times . The muscles under her skin, the way her hair stuck to her the side of her face, framing her features beautifully, the way her eyes reflected the spring like a river meeting another. Your thoughts had no voice but they echoed in your mind, no legs but they ran wild. And yet none of them were as loud as your heart in this moment. You could only think of one solution to silence them, one that you’ve seen others do but never had to chance to replicate yourself, but as usual Mizu was one step ahead of you.
The kiss was soft. Mizu had lowered herself to reach you, her lips brushing yours, testing your waters before diving. You held on to eachother still while you locked lips. The feeling was electrifying and you could feel its lightning running through your veins, straight through your fingertips. She pulled back gently to look into your eyes. You weren't sure what she read, but you read a different emotion in hers. She went back in, but this time with a little more hunger. She was breathless and you were air. Her fingers unlocked themselves from yours and quickly adjusted to holding the sides of your face, pulling you in closer. You held onto her elbows gently, and leaned forward. There was a small rock under your foot you were using to elevate yourself, but standing on the tip of your toes created an unsteadiness and you slipped, falling into her. She caught you, and pulled you in even closer. Skin to skin, heart to heart. Her arms wrapped around your backside, your navals connecting. Throwing your arms up you wrapped them around her neck to pull her into you as well, and the kiss grew into a hunger. A craving. A consumption of soul through breath, You found yourself desperate for her all over again, in need to be consumed by her, to give her all of you and more. Anything that would satisfy her hunger for you, and there was a hunger. The kisses were repetitive, Her head angled from one side to the next, as if she was unsure which side she enjoyed the most.
She lapped up the moans and whimpers you left in her mouth like sweet milk. They were involuntary, you weren't even sure you could make noises like this for another person until this moment. So weak, and dizzying, your breath quickening between each kiss as she robbed it from you. It was like you had no control over your body either. Between your legs began to throb and ache, causing you to grind your hips. Back and forth, the movement of the water sliding between your thighs helped but it wasnt enough. You were beginning to grow mindless, and your body had agreed to do the thinking for you. The only issue was your lack of experience. You craved, you seeked, you longed for..something. Kissing each other was forming a typhoon in your lower regions, threatening to cross the shoreline and destroy, conquering everything in its path. You just needed something, anything, that could get you to the point your body was seeking.
Mizu stepped back, her self control only a tad bit stronger than yours as you tried to pull her back in again. She chuckled, breathless, and lowered her head to gaze into your eyes. You began to catch your breath, thankful for this chance to slow your heart as you felt you were soon to explode with an unimaginable level of lust. The woman raised her slender hand, leaving a spot for cold air to hit where her arms were now absent, and gently stroked her thumb over your cheek. A few strokes and she found herself brushing your lips. Looking into her eyes, you plumped your lips and laid a soft kiss on the padding of her thumb. Slow, beckoning. A trap. You heard a soft sound of pleasure slip out from her vocal cords, as she leaned back down to meet your lips. Pulling away this time was a little harder, as you were focused on holding her as close to you as possible. You didn't want to stop, your body craved her and you could tell hers hungered for you too. The goosebumps on her arm, her chest rising and falling fast, the nipples on her soft breast as erect as yours. You wondered if she felt the same typhoon threatening to overcome her between her legs. You wondered if there would be a time where you could explore eachothers bodies. Finding the samurai's weak spots in her armor. Fighting a battle where for once there is no loss, and everyone wins. Making the other fall to ones knees, overcome by the ocean tides within, letting the waves consume your bodies.
“Ringo,” she started but didn't finish the sentence, still out of breath.
“No..” You whimpered in protest. This couldn't be it. Not now. She had walked you to the cliff, it felt, and all you had to do was jump together.
“Yes.” she chuckled again. “He will start looking. I’m not usually out here for this long.”
“Make it a habit.” you teased in a hushed tone. The thought of more sessions like this night with Mizu excited you again; your hips twitched unintentionally. Mizu noticed, attentive as always, and lowered her hands to your sides to grip them. If it weren't for her holding you up, you were sure your legs would give way.
Water droplets slid off your skin, as clothing slipped on. Wrapping your gowns in a comfortable silence while shooting glances at one another, you felt a calm wash over you. You walked into the depth of her pool with the cool of anxiety, and walked out covered in the warmth of reassurance. The night seemed to only be getting better as you both walked back to the home. Ringo’s cooking was entrapping, the scent swimming through the wind and into your nose, flashing images of ingredients into your mind. Mizu, who was walking ahead of you, turned over her shoulder to catch your eyes. There was a different look to her tonight, a look that warmed your heart. She lifted a hand behind her, you reached forward to grasp it and despite all the oddities the world would speak of your budding hearts that have decided to grow as one, it all was beginning to feel natural.
In moments of frustration, to be still was the best decision to make until an opportunity revealed itself. Be still, be quiet, and be observant. An opportunity will arise, a solution to your problem. It always does if you are patient enough. You usually were in moments of frustration, but here it was different. The problem couldnt be identified as you had never come face to face with an enemy such as itself. It was deep under your skin, hidden in your chest cavity. It was behind your eyes before you dragged them away. In the tone of your voice, and sometimes a hint in the tone of the samurai’s. There was a problem, but you couldn't find it, and it didn't seem the blue eyed man was looking for a solution if he had even identified there was something wrong in the first place.
No, he was too focused on training. Always training. Every morning you woke to the sounds of his huffs and grunts. If you woke up late enough, you would hear his sword cutting through air or clashing with whatever log of wood that he chose to become his defenseless opponent. He was always moving, pushing, fighting through everything even in pain. It was Mizu’s way of staying fit. Mizu..
.It had only been a few days since you had learned his name finally after months of taking up eachothers space. Unwillingly. You still couldn't believe that you had trailed him for weeks on weeks and never heard a slip of his name anywhere. No written form, no introductions, not even the conversations with his apprentice. You trailed this nameless stranger for weeks just to find he is as fitting as the title given to him to introduce himself. His mother held him in her arms and named him after one of the greatest forms of nature known to man. Evershifting, evermoving, a force so unstoppable that man builds contraptions to contain it behind great dams and walls, but it never stops. Water is never still, even if it looks like it.. He never stops. Or perhaps she just looked into his eyes as a newborn and went for the easiest thing she could think of. Either way, how fitting.
You still couldn't find yourself using it. It would brush the skin behind your lips before you would give up, swallowing him whole and spitting out a “Hey you!” to catch his attention for when his apprentice called for meals. You couldn't bring yourself to it. Not without being brought back to that night he let you hear it for the first time. The sound of your footsteps on the floor as you chased each other, the look of excitement in his eyes, the feel for a challenge, his body close to yours. That was the furthest you’d let yourself travel back to before clearing your mind. It’s not like you two had not fought before. You've fought enough times to know he played unfairly, but so do you. But to play with the enemy, what would your father say..
“Hey you.” His voice called from behind you, cutting through your forming deep sea thoughts like a bursted dam. You tilted your head slightly to catch his eyes as he approached where you were standing. He must have seen you standing there for a little too long with the straw bag. You hadn't noticed until now that he doesn't use your name either. Maybe he was aware of this brewing problem as well. You waited for his shadow to cross your face as his approaching figure towered you with his height.
“I have a name.”
“So do I.” He responded with quickness, no sign of disruption on his face. He reached down to help you with the bag, leaning closer to you. He probably assumed it was the reason you were standing for so long. You remembered Ringo’s words on how his Master would ask of you to make sure you were healing alright. Though you were enemies, he would ask. You being so close to death, crossing over would have been a convenience for him, and yet he asked. He always asked. Did he think you were weak? Or that you were still healing in some way.
“I’ve got it, Mizu.” You looked him in the eyes as you spoke his name. It sounded like a spell coming from your lips. It froze him in movement like a pond in the winter. There was a different look in his eyes, oceans stirred beneath his blues. His lashes were long and wispy as he stared into yours. You could see the sweat from his previous training dripping down the center of his bridge. You wondered what you looked like through his eyes. You wondered if he could feel the problem too.
“It’s probably only what..14..15 kan? I can carry it myself. ” You broke eye contact now, pulling yourself from his gaze. It had to be you first. You heard him clear his throat before straightening himself up to his full height again.
“I bet I’m strong enough to join you in your little trainings.”
“Oh yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as you moved down the hall.
“You don’t do anything too difficult anyway.”
“And yet, I’ve beaten you..how many times?” He teased, and it pressed against the bruise on your ego, but not as bad as it would have months ago. No, months ago you would have lunged at him for speaking that way to you. Months ago, you wouldn't have even let him speak.
Before you could respond to his banter, his apprentice turned the corner as quiet as a mouse. It still surprised you that someone his size could move with such agility and stealth. His smile was warm as he took the bag from you.
“Perfect! Thank you, (y/n). This should last us a long while. I finally figured out what I want to make for tonight. Master, it’s your favorite! It has been a while. ” The excitement in his voice seeped into your skin like sunshine and you too found yourself a bit excited for dinner. Ringo’s joy was contagious. It affected all, even his stoic, crude master. You could feel him shift beside you before looking off into the distance.
“Call when it’s finished.” and his apprentice nodded before they went their separate ways. Now you had a choice. You could keep Ringo company, helping him prepare his meal and listening to him hum sweet tunes over the food he prepared like you did almost every other day. You watched him walk down the hall, already humming softly and creating an atmosphere of peace that trailed behind him. When you turned the opposite direction, you saw his master. His back stood tall and strong as he made his way back onto the field. The wind blew against him, but he moved continuously. You watched as his hands lifted towards his neck and up into his waves of ink, retying his messy hair. He was drifting further away.
“Hey you!” You heard yourself speak before you had time to reconsider. Your body moved towards him, following behind before you found yourself standing in his shadow. With him turning around to the sound of your call, the wind now blew him in your approaching direction but he stood still for you. Waiting for you to catch up to him.
Home cooked meals from your mother came rare in the hut you and your siblings called home. The food that did come by was usually scavenged, stolen or donated by the men feeling generous enough to leave a few coins behind. These were rarely warm, but some of them tasted good. There was not enough to fill everyone, but enough for everyone to eat even if it was just a little. You were used to cold meals, stolen food, and little to spare. It’s how you learned to survive. Off very little.
When your father stepped into your life and set the entirety of your past ablaze, he brought warmth with him. Your first freshly home cooked meal in a very long time was the meal he had prepared for you the moment he brought you home. You sat in the carriage between the man who saved you and one of his men in silence, listening to the horses' hooves strike the ground with power and speed until it came to a halt. He had the door opened for him and when he turned around, he held his hand out for you. A hesitant moment passed by before a fragile hand reached out to grab his, followed by your foot. Step by step, he led you into his home with his head held high. Shock wasn't a strong enough word to describe the feeling you had when you were finally behind the doors. The sensation of the cold floor chilled your toes and the feeling of embarrassment warmed your cheeks after. You couldn't walk into this home barefooted, tracking dirt across the floor like how a rat does. You looked around frantically before a great shadow crossed you and you felt his arms lift you from the ground. He smelled of fresh cloth and a scent lingered above his skin like the creams you imagined they rubbed on royals. You were ashamed to have him touch you, but his secure strength brought comfort. He carried you as if you were his own, even though you felt confusion and concern. The scent of food filled your nostrils the closer to the room you got, and when the door was opened your eyes widened. A small table with a few dishes on it stood before and as he lowered you onto the ground, you realized some of these dishes you had never seen before. It was left overs, but you didn't think to be picky at the moment. All you could think of was the mouth watering food in front of you that would soon enter your stomach. You glanced towards the man who would soon become your father who nodded at you with a warm approval before reaching for the chopsticks beside your bowl.
You remembered how delicious everything was that night. The warm beef broth that sat in your stomach and warmed your soul, the sticky rice that you chewed with pleasure, the crisp vegetables that snapped in your teeth with the most satisfying crunch. You thought of it all as you ate the food prepared for you now.
The apprentice’s meals were made with sincerity; you could taste it in each bite and sip. He had little to work with, but he made it work everytime. You eventually felt yourself warming up to Ringo, actively seeking him out when you would find the strength to leave your room. Sometimes you’d sit by him in silence while he cooked, his soft humming providing tunes for the thoughts you’d slip away to in your mind. Sometimes he would speak to you, sparking up conversation to pass the time, which you would nod quietly to or offer a thoughtful soft “hm”. He was a warm comforting soul to be around and you found yourself enjoying his company while you ate the meals he prepared for you. It felt nice when it was just the two of you.
“Master! I just finished preparing dinner. Here is your bowl.”
But it couldn't always be that way.
Ringo’s master would keep himself busy throughout the day doing who knows what while you stayed with him so you didn't get to see him very often to the point where you could almost forget his presence entirely. It was preferable as you got the sense that he didn't enjoy your company either and seeked isolation when he could. Especially from his apprentice, who was persistent in having final meals together to end the day.
You could feel his presence from the entrance as he stood there, but you didn't pay him any noticeable attention. The two of you had gotten to the point where now you didnt groan or sigh when the other entered the room, but the air between you two still felt like you had. You looked ahead past Ringo who sat in front of you with your bowl of rice in one hand and chopsticks clenched in the other. A sigh was released before he came over and kneeled at the front of the table before getting comfortable and snatching up his bowl. This torturous ritual of eating with the enemy was companioned with his odd way of consuming the food in front of him. It was custom to hear a few slurps here and there while sharing a meal with others. It was deemed a compliment to the one who took the time to prepare it to hear others enjoying it so well; but it wasn't what he sounded like when he ate. It was how he ate.
The way his long fingers gripped the bowl as he lowered his face into it. How his narrow eyes focused intensely on his meal, grabbing whatever meat was in the other dishes displayed before him. He ate eagerly, feverishly. Almost like a stray dog. Like he did not receive many meals like this in his past.
Just because you were no longer under the instruction to observe the man, doesn't mean you would stop. It came naturally to you. That’s why you were so good at it.
He peeked at you over his bowl and slowed his chewing as his eyes hardened. He was good at it too, you remembered, so he quickly noticed you noticing him. He straightened his back and placed the bowl down, eating with a more stiff demeanor. He felt that you were judging him, and in a way you were but not in the way he thought. You too didn't grow up with meals like this, and had to be taught to eat politely through your father or else you would be a give away to anyone looking too deeply into your past.
He sighed, leaning forward to grab one more piece of meat to shove into his mouth before leaving the table.
“Master, are you finished?” Ringo stopped chewing to look into his bowl and noticed there was about a third left of rice and his soul was crushed. You could see it in his eyes. Ringo loved it when you finished your food. It brought him a sense of purpose to make something for those he cared for.
“Lost my appetite.” He mumbled, his head and shoulders slouched as he headed towards the door.
“I put out your favorite..” there was a tone of sadness in his voice as his sentence trailed off. Whether it was the sound of his apprentice that pulled at the heartstrings in his chest, or the sound of his favorite meal being on the table, he did turn back. His eyes combed over the table before meeting with the soft dark eyes of his apprentice. For a minute, you thought he was going to succumb to the persuasiveness of a kind hearted voice. But then his eyes met with yours. The flowing river of his azure eyes froze over, and the known iceyness of winter crossed his face.
“Wouldn't want anyone else to lose their appetite.” and the sliding door shut firmly behind him.
You listened to his footsteps grow quieter from the distance and huffed out in annoyance before taking another sip of miso. He could starve for all you cared. It was none of your concern. Maybe if you couldn't kill him, lack of nutrition due to his stubbornness would.
“You two are not so different.” Ringo said after a little sigh and chuckle.
“Appetite lost.” Was the only comment you said, causing Ringo to erupt in laughter.
When you came to, the skin on your cheek was greeted by the hard cold ground, shocking your body into wakefulness. A couple blinks, and you were scurrying to your feet in adrenaline filled panic. Your body ached, the sudden movement causing you to drop back to the ground, and you began to take in your surroundings as you started to calm yourself.
Outside. You had made it outside. Clenching the hard snow in your hands, the memories had started to slip back into your mind. The running, the screaming of women, the gunshot that went off. You started to recall the last few hours you had spent in the mountain side prison with the apprentice and his master.
His master.
You scanned your surroundings closely now. A few feet away lay his body. As quiet as possible, you crawled closer to him. The details of his damage became more clear the closer you reached until you were hovering over him. He had scarring on his skin, disrupting the smooth texture it usually had. Dried blood painted his face, some now washed off with the help of the melting snow. You could see his clothes had burn marks and tears from the fighting he did to push through the prison. His back moved slightly under his clothing. He was breathing.
A surprising sense of relief washed over your mind like sudden rain on a pit of fire. You didn't dare reach out to touch him, but his breathing no matter how shallow his breaths were, gave you some peace. Especially with what it took for you all to make it out.
Flashbacks of the last few hours passed behind your eyes. The bodies of the guards left on the floor as you two and the rest of the women made their way out the prison. The dim lit hallways as you all tried to use your memory to find your way back. That's what the guards had not accounted for. It had been so long since any of the other prisoners had seen their entrance in, they had forgotten how to leave and in doing so they became even more docile with their imprisonment, losing hope of escape. Not you, and clearly not the two men locked up with you. Hope was as reliable as a bad rope, but you all held onto it and looked for opportunities. Ringo receiving the beat down he had by the men with egos as big as their heads and coming back with the key to your escape was the first glance of freedom. His master making himself a target was the second.
You remembered how it all went, the memories rushing you as you watched him breath on the cold winter floor. The scent of panic radiating off the prisoners, the rush of adrenaline in your veins as you pushed past. Soon you caught Ringo’s master stop at a corner, glancing around before dashing off somewhere else. You scoffed. Of course. This was his chance to escape. The prisoners were set free, but their freedom was no ones responsibility but their own. You looked around and found Ringo, guiding them. Still recovering from his bruises, yet he moved with agility and patience. He bent over to help those that he could as you all looked for another door, something that could lead to the outside.
“Stop right there!” A man's voice rang out from the opposite hallway. Behind him were more guards to back him up and retrieve all the prisoners. You all had made it this far, and you refused to go back there because everyone was moving too slow. The blue eyed man had decided to take his leave the moment he could, and it was probably best you made the same decision. The selfish live longer.
The familiar sound of choking on blood, followed by a loud thud was heard from behind the man. You heard a sword slice the air before the cruel sound of its blade splitting skin, and then another body hit the ground. The men turned around to meet eyes with the bloodied samurai, now reunited with his blade once more. His fingers clasped around it with ease, almost like it was a part of his limbs. He readied himself for the next person to come his way now that his presence was known, and they charged him.
Once again you witnessed the dance of his fighting technique. How his blade moved through the air, through the bodies of the guards. He became as fluid as the blood he was spilling onto the walls of the prison.
You stood and watched him for a second. He could have left. It was smarter if he did. There was nothing benefiting him in returning. The prisoners, bruised, weak and scared, moved like cattle. They would have held him back further. His apprentice, though kind and true at heart, could be replaced and you got the sense that he preferred traveling alone anyhow. He didn't need to return, and yet he did once again fighting another battle for those who can’t defend themselves. His eyes lit up with adrenaline as he sliced through the guards and for a minute you were reminded that he was the infamous onryo plaguing Japan. This demon performing the acts of a savior.
He was still a demon nevertheless.
You snapped back into your reality at this moment, the memory of his lightning blue eyes in the dark fading from your vision as you stared at his now closed eyelids. You couldn't let yourself get confused. He was still the enemy, on a mission to destroy the man who raised you. It all came rushing back to you now. Yes, his distaste for your father. The words he had said about him. Now that you have seen his skill, you know what he is capable of. It plucked a feather on the wings of your pride, but you had to admit that he was dangerous.
Killing him here would put an end to all of this. You had no weapons on you currently, but even if you did you weren't sure if you could. You told yourself it was because he was laying at a bad angle, and if you didn't slice accurately or bash his head in with enough force you risk waking him up and entering a challenge you didn't have the energy to accomplish. Maybe he would die out here, you thought to yourself as you moved away from his body. Maybe an animal more savage than him would come here with an empty stomach and feast on his body. Maybe the cruelty of winter's nature would take him, opening the soil and embracing him under a blanket of white. Maybe it could do it for you, because in that moment you couldn't bring yourself to.
You moved slowly, creeping away from his body until you could safely turn around and dash off into the woods. Ringo was nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't yours to concern over anyway. Once again it was just you on your own, like it’s always been. Branches slapped at your arms and ankles, and the cold air bit at your lungs as you ran through the woods, looking for anything to lead you to somewhere you recognize. Your memory brought you back to the escape now as you ran.
Through the dimly lit halls, around corners you used your memory to find your way back to the entrance you had taken just to find it surrounded. Luckily they didn't hear you, so you slipped back behind the wall and watched as they closed and locked the gate. They must have been notified that there was an escape happening. You cussed under your breath, and turned quickly. This would make it more difficult, but not impossible. There was a way out. There was always a way out. You’d either find one, or you’d make one.
You carried this same mentality with you while you traveled the woods. Minutes turned to hours as you gathered your surroundings, using them to guide you home. You couldn't have been far from the prisons in the mountain, meaning you weren't far from the project your father had them directing people from. You recalled the map your father has shown you on several occasions, and you remembered that his home was in the center of all of his projects. In his new world he was creating in Japan, he would be the center of it. The sun would be him and his grace would be the light and all would be right. You believed in his vision. You believed in him.
Days went by as you continued your travel back home. The anticipation of seeing your father again fueled you. You had so much to tell him. About the people in the village. About the prison. About the samurai you left to die alone. Regret pinched at your sleeves like a stubborn child. Though it was weak, he was still breathing. On a normal assignment, you would have already spilled his blood. On a normal assignment, you would have made sure he never stood back up. You wouldn't see him again, you told yourself. He would die in those woods, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of your lack of action. If he was smart, he would realize that coming for your father has cost him more strain than anything. He would turn around and leave his mission behind. He would wake up and realize the returned favor for saving your life and everyone else's in the prison. He would seek out a different mission, you hoped.
But next time you saw him, you would not hesitate.
The sound of swords slicing through the air and hitting skin was heard behind you as the memory slipped itself into your focus again. Finding the exit was the most important to you at this moment and you made it your goal to get to one, but as you scanned hallways to hallways, realization gleaned over you like a cloud. They were locking the gates, closing the doors, making it impossible to leave.
When you were beginning to lose hope, a small light flickered over your frantically searching eyes and you realized in that moment what it was. A window of hope, literally. In a room down the hall there was an opening close to the ceiling. It was probably used for aiming out the side of the mountain with arrows or now supplied guns for trespassers. Moving towards it, you leaped into the air to hold onto the ledge and pulled yourself up with as much strength as possible to take a peek on the other side. It wasn't much of a fall, probably a few scratches or two, and the hole was big enough to fit a grown man. This would be perfect. For all of you.
You ran back to the group and Ringo met your eyes first. Tilting your head quickly in the direction you just came from, you and him took the group and started running towards the room again, and one by one you and the apprentice began lifting the people up and helping them out the window. Some were scared, fearful of what was lying for them outside these walls but you pushed for them to leave anyway. Anything was better than this prison..this prison that was burning.
Unsure how, the scent of burning wood and smoke filled the air as Ringo pushed the last woman out. His master was still nowhere to be seen, but you could hear the fighting getting closer. Ringo reached over to you now, offering to help you first out the hole when you backed away from his reach.
“You go.” You told him quickly, reaching for a wooden stool he could stand on.
“No, I can’t do that. I need to make sure you're safe-”
“Now is not the time for hospitality. Go, Ringo.” Harshness brushed the edges of your tone. You weren't even sure why you were letting him go first. The selfish live longer, and yet here you were offering a chance of survival to someone else. Someone who was kind.
“The women trust you,” you said softly “They’ll need you out there to lead them as far away from the prison as possible.”
To that he nodded, but not before placing a nub on your shoulder and offering one of his small smiles. You watched him leap up on the ledge before leaning over to push him up with as much strength you could muster. The plush of his skin slipped from your hands as he fell out the window and you were dragged to the floor. The air in your lungs left as the weight of a man straddling you dropped onto your chest. One of the guards had finally found you all but was too late as now all the prisoners had escaped. You could see the rage in his eyes as he lifted his fist and struck your face. The sudden pain made you blink in and out of consciousness, and eventually you felt his hands around your throat. You flailed your legs as much as you could, and held onto his wrist with one hand while the other searched his person for anything to break you free. Spitting your blood in his face didn't seem to faze him either. He was determined to kill you. This is how you would die then. In the grasp of a soldier hired by your father. You began to lose consciousness for longer than just a few seconds, your grip growing weaker.
Blood spilled onto you as his grip weakened and you gasped for air. When you opened your eyes, you saw the blue carefully sculpted sword directly in his scalp as he was still looking down at you before he died. The sword was removed, and his body kicked over to reveal the blue eyes of the man who killed him for you. He leaned over to offer you his hand, and you reached for your neck instead, rubbing the sore spot you knew would bruise. With shaky limbs, you stood up and limped towards the window. Here you let him help you as he climbed up too. The smell of smoke and blood left your lungs as you both lept from the window and into the fresh mountain side.
The smell of smoke and blood greeted you now.
After days of searching, you found your fathers home but something was different. Instead of being greeted by his guards, you were greeted by a great flame instead. You watched from the hills in genuine confusion and distraught. How could this have happened? This area was guarded heavier than any kingdom, you had thought. The fire looked recent, like it had only started a few hours ago as it was still in its blaze. That did not stop you from running down the hill, past the gates, and into the place you once called home.
Bodies lay to the left and right of you, the traps set out to catch intruders set off but with no intruder caught in them. Confusion circled your mind, racing like an untamed horse. How could this have happened? What could have caused this? Where was your father?
You could barely breathe, panting frantically as you ran through the halls of your burning home. Your limbs ached as you climbed steps, flung open doors, dodged planks of wood falling from the walls and ceiling. He was your number one priority. How could you have been gone for so long. How could you have left. The memory of your father’s hesitation to send you on this mission flashed behind your eyes. The look on his face, his silence. The frustration in your heart began to build on top of eachother until you finally belted out his name in hopes he’d respond.
“Father!” You shouted. Louder than you’ve ever shouted his name before. It sounded frightful coming from your voice. Like the little girl he was still raising. Like the little girl he rescued.
You turned the corner and finally spotted him in his office. He was standing with his back towards you, focused on whatever was before him. The room was ablaze. All his papers and paintings peeled black as the fire ate them, and the wood splintered and cracked as it fueled it more. Your father stood tall, no inch of fear or acknowledgment of the chaos around him. Tall and still as he focused on what was before him. You stepped a few paces towards him, and your eyes widened in shock.
For centuries, demons have been a topic of discussion in religious context. Your father told you they were once angelic beings who rebelled against their god, and therefore forced to live in the fiery pits of torturous chaos. That they wandered the earth in hopes to drag down the souls of the unfortunate so that they wouldn't burn alone. Onryo, demons, abandoning their purpose so they make theirs to lead you astray from the path of light and destroy everything you’ve ever known.
You should have killed this one back when given the chance.
“Your assignment has found his way to our door.” Your fathers voice was calm and he spoke in a tone like he was just relaying facts. As if his mens blood werent seeping through the floorboards. As if the walls were not burning around you. Catching your breath was difficult for all the smoke, but the smoke didn't stop you from meeting eyes with the demon himself.
His blue eyes now almost glowing a brighter blue from all the adrenaline possibly running through his veins. His resting scratched up face that once lay in the snow, now covered in more scratches and fresher scars from the fighting it took to get in here. He looked beaten up. He looked vengeful. He looked everything, but ready to back down.
“What an entrance, don’t you agree?” here he turned his head to look you over. You met eyes with his and warmth ran through you. Though the room around you both was engulfed in flames, his blues eyes were calm. The building was barely standing, and yet he welcomed you home with a simple glance. The anxiousness you had felt before began to melt off of you piece by piece as you were engulfed in his flame of safety and confidence. Home was never this building. Home was your father.
“There is no time for family reunions. You die tonight.” spoke the demon, his voice raspy and deep as he picked up his blade. You stepped into the room now, rushing to your fathers side. Here you were again except instead of defending your fathers name, you were defending his person. You would die for him in this moment. In any moment. Your face dared the man to step further. You read the determination in his, but behind it lied something else. Something of regret.
A firm hand reached your shoulder and held it. You felt his thumb stroke your shoulder as his other hand led down your arm, placing a weapon in your hand. You felt the trigger guard in your hand as your fingers became familiar with the gun your father had placed in them. He then began to lift your arm like he had when he was teaching you to use the weapon. You stared down the jaw screw and met eyes with the samurai again who had readied himself for the shot.
The shot that you could not take.
Memories fought with your body, holding your finger. Sure, if the man had rushed you in this moment you would shoot him without hesitation, but he wasn't. He wasn't moving. He was staring at you with the same look of regret hidden behind determination. The same look you were positive you were wearing as well. You could kill the man who threatened you. You could kill the man who stepped any closer to your father. Could you kill the man who saves others in need? Could you kill the man who saved your life? Who kept you safe when he didn't need to? Why were you hesitating in this moment? Why were you hesitating at all?
You heard a scoff.
You tore your eyes away from the man to look at your father and a chill ran down your spine. You prided yourself in knowing your father. The emotions he had on display. Sometimes what he could be thinking. No one knew him better than you, but here you couldn't recognize him at all. You couldn't read any emotion on his face. It was expressionless and bare, and words seemed to leave his mouth like an echo in an empty vessel.
“Stupid girl.”
Next his hand, quick and heavy, covered your face entirely. You were still processing the painful grip of his fingers around your face before the pain of another hard object hit the back of your head. A desk? A wall? You weren't sure. You felt your body fall to the floor and the gun drop from your hand. You began to blink in and out of consciousness.
His shadow was the only thing that offered shield to your body as he walked over you and towards his next target who now couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You tried to get up, but your body fell weak again. Blood spooled out of your mouth as you coughed and writhed on the heated floor. Your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to keep them open, fearful for what you would meet if you let them shut.
You heard grunting and a sword slicing the air. You felt the vibrations of the burning wooden planks hitting the ground you lay on. You felt your body ache as you rolled to the side, trying to move and cling onto life still. You felt the warm blood spill from your mouth and pool around your cheek on the floor. You felt an arm. You flinched reflexively. You were scooped up and held tightly and a few paces later you heard footsteps, a broken wood, and felt the cold sensation of fresh air grace your skin.
You had opened your eyes at this point. Your father stood above you as you fell from his grace. You met your (E/C) eyes with his cold blue ones that stared down behind the samurai’s raven hair that danced in the wind as he took you under with him. The moon watched all from above, and the water below greeted you both with its cold embrace.
The sound of water was one of familiarity, but not necessarily in a comforting way. Like the whistle of your mother before she turned her attention to you. You knew of it, but also of the dangers that follow. Not far off from the hut you grew up in ran a small stream that trickled into a deep pond. Looking over the surface, it would greet you with a blurrier version of your face that would dance and ripple no matter how still you sat. No matter how hard you looked into it, the bottom was discoverable to none. It was almost as if it told you to focus on yourself for now, and though you didn't particularly enjoy not knowing what lay beneath the surface over time you accepted the silent message of the pond. If you were lucky enough to get there first or later in the evening, it would be barren; absent of the loud children in the village who would dive head first into its abyss. One evening, you wandered down to the pond in hopes to find it quiet. You craved the hushed whispers of the wind in the grass, but as you got closer you were greeted with the sound of children. Freezing in your tracks, you hoped to turn around and come back later but as you did your face connected harshly with what felt like a wall. Your wrist caught your fall and you let out a small gasp as you lifted it to your chest in pain. Staring down at you was one of the village's older boys. He was usually leading the pack that one of your brothers spent time with causing havoc around the town, so to see him out here instead of the first in the water shocked you. He was also the cruelest in the quietest way.
“(Y/n)”
His voice was soft and eerie. You two had never met officially, so how he knew your name confused you. You didn't dare meet his eyes and prayed he would leave. Behind you, wet footsteps sloshed in the dirt making its way to where you two were.
“Isn't this your baby sister?” You never felt his eyes drift off of you as he spoke.
“Oh? Yeah. I don’t know what she’s doing down here though.”
“Maybe she wants to swim?” His voice oozed a disgusting sweetness, pitched higher like how adults speak to children. The boys around you oooo'd and snickered, looking amongst each other. Now is when you picked up your eyes to meet your brothers. Distaste and annoyance laid behind his eyes. You were embarrassing him in front of his friends, and you haven't done much.
Kneeling to your level, the older boy grabbed at your wrist and pulled it towards him. His fingernails pierced your skin and the pain surged through your arm making you clench your teeth; he pulled you up and dragged you down to the pond. You squirmed silently, your limbs fighting against his grip. He squeezed tighter and before you knew it, the rest of the boys had come forth to grip you as well. Your blood brother included. All of them moved in unison as they dragged you further and further down, laughing amongst each other in a wicked manner. The sound of water grew closer and the sensation of rushing air brushed your skin. Holding your breath, you prepared for impact.
The water embraced you in its cold arms, filling every cavity in your body. Your mouth opened and in came more of its earthy flavor to meet your lungs. Your clothes stuck to your skin as you sank to the bottom. You didn't put up a fight, as the pond took you further and eventually your eyes became comfortable with your surroundings. The light shining through the surface wasn't all too bad, you had thought to yourself, and the further you sank, the more comfortable the temperature of the water became on your skin. You were losing consciousness, but the pool was embracing you all the way through it. No one’s face appeared at the surface, no one was coming to save you. That was okay, you thought. The pond wasn't too bad now that you were in it. The dark promised you secrets, and the water whispered phrases never heard before.
“Y/N..”
It’s voice was cool and soothing. It swayed your body left and right like a child in its arms. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes. It was nice to be held this way, your limbs sinking deeper into the embrace.
“Y/N..”
The pond called again, but this time it sounded familiar. Warmth was starting to slip into the voice speaking to you from the edges of your mind. It reminded you of someone you met, someone you knew who was kind to you. A rare stranger with a smile as warm as a bowl of broth. You opened your eyes slightly, letting the light from the surface of the water meet your gaze but this time there was a face. A calm one. A familiar one. A comfortable one. He smiled at you so brightly you were forced to close your eyes again.
“I’m glad you're coming to. I was starting to get really worried.” The apprentice made sure to keep his voice low to not startle or unnerve you as he moved another warm soaked cloth to your forehead.
This time when you opened your eyes, the water all around you had disappeared. So had the scary boys in your village. So had your brother. Your eyes lazily trailed the walls of the room you were in. The walls were made from aged wood and grass; you could tell this building was an older unkempt one. The air smelled crisp from the open door leading to outside. When you tilted your head, the flicker of the candle's fire reached for your mind forcing you into a new memory that would remind you of what you wished to forget.
The flame swallowing the house you had once called home. The smell of blood and ash filling your lungs as you raced your way through the halls. Charred hands and burning bodies decorating the grounds as you made your way to your fathers study.
You Father
You sat up quickly, startling Ringo who kneeled you. A headache pierced the back of your skull as the memories made their way into the cracks. His eyes that used to watch you with such softness. How quick they became a cold flame and burned away the hairs on your skin. How easy it was for him to raise his hand against you. You lifted a shaky hand to the side of your head that hit the wall. It still stung and without looking into a mirror you could tell that there was a bruise. The harm he caused on your body would heal faster than the wound on your heart left by the words he spoke over your limp body.
“Stupid girl.”
They circled your mind now, pulsing back and forth until you could do nothing but cup your head between the palms of your hands. One mistake. One small hesitation. It costs you years of loyalty, trust, and safety. Your fathers love, his care, his guidance. All of it was gone in a matter of seconds. And over what? Who?
You heard footsteps from the door behind you. Footsteps you’ve studied for so many months that they too became a familiar sound. Like the water of the pond. Your mothers whistle. Your fathers voice in the dark. The apprentice’s hums. All these new familiarity in your life adding onto each other. Life was so simple before. A routine with instructions from above. Now once again you were forced to re-adapt. And for what? Who?
With your hands still shielding the sides of your head, you shifted your body to meet the blue eyes you have gotten to know so well. Everything seemed to move slowly as he passed the door, glancing in to meet yours as well. There was no emotion on his face as he passed you. It brought anger to your heart and lit a flame beneath your skin. No remorse, no shame, no guilt or even pleasure over the life he uprooted like a tree on a riverbank during a storm. Memories rushed to your mind. His grip on your body as he picked you from the floor. His breath in your ear as he ran. How his arms tightened around your waist as he jumped from the burning building with you. Now he stood before you in the hall as past and present danced behind your eyes.
You wish he had left you to die.
Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest sharp object that was available, the shears Ringo was using to cut up your wraps and bandages. The memory of battle moved your muscles and the shears went flying across the room straight for his head, to which he dodged. You moved quickly, ignoring the scream of pain that surged throughout your body like a choir and the apprentice who frantically sang with it. His master's eyes never left yours as you closed your hand into a fist and lept towards him. They met his cheek and he quickly grabbed your wrist, but it was too late. You were in the air at his height when you grabbed at the shears sticking out of the wall near his head. A quick flick of your wrist and you were able to slice at his cheek right below his eye. His blood trickled down the surface, but you weren't satisfied. His blues pierced into your (E/C)’s and he changed his stance quickly. He took advantage of your body weight and your legs wrapped around his waist, and shifted forward. Grabbing at your other wrists, you both fell to the ground. You let out a gasp as air left your lungs and the pain reminded you that you were in no state to fight. The man lowered his weight, taking advantage of your legs and pinned your wrist.
“Get down!” The command came from his throat, almost like a low groan
You spat at him, struggling still beneath his weight.
“Get off!”
“There’s easier ways to say thank you.”
“Thank you?! Thank you!” you felt something tear in your abdomen as you shouted. Stitches perhaps.
“Thank you for what?!”
“For saving your life.” He shouted back
“You didn't save my life! You destroyed it! Everything..everything..you’ve ruined my life-”
A ball of sorrow built up in your throat as you screamed in his face.
“Do you destroy everything that crosses your path? Does everything around you turn to ablaze?” you felt the tears roll down your face now, hot as they were the first time you cried in his presence unwillingly. You lifted your head from the ground to speak closer to him, for him to see the anger and pain in your eyes. Anger and pain brought to you by a small hesitation. How could you explain to him what he’s done? What you’ve done? What did he know about this pain and anger? Could he even see it?
“You ruined my life and you want me to thank you? What a sick joke.” A poor excuse for a scoff slipped out your mouth as you sank to the ground and looked off to the side. You couldn't stand to look at him anymore. He hovered over you for a few moments. You could feel his eyes on your skin the same way the blood from his cheek dripped onto yours; merging with the tears that ran down your face.
His hand gradually moved up from your wrist to the palm of your hands, and you could feel him grip onto the shears in your hands still. You attempted to put up a small fight before giving in and eventually letting him take the weapon from you. He got up slowly, and when you moved your head you could see the bandages on his body. He moved with a bruised limp before fixing his posture. His apprentice, who had grown into silence, didn't meet his eyes as he walked past him.
Sitting up on your elbow, you watched him as he left towards the door. Though injured and bandaged the same as you, you hoped to leave one last cut.
“Of course you’re silent. What excuse could an Onryo give for doing what comes naturally.”
He paused at the door and stood there for a minute before glancing over his shoulders to meet your eyes.
“To destroy.”
You were sure he was going to turn to you again. Lash out or put an end to your life now that you were in an even weaker state, but that's not what his eyes said. You couldn't read them exactly, but it felt like frustration and sorrow. He didn't make a sound before he turned and left the room. You let go of the breath you weren't aware you were holding but in came air as heavy as pond water.
