#Mizu father

[rithalie-sideblog]

I want Mizu’s father to be a complicated character.

I’m a sucker for reformed fathers and while I don’t think it will happen, I want Mizu’s father to be VERY morally grey. Give me a man who doesn’t believe in fairness or goodness anymore. Give me a man who had been through so goddamn much he can’t even see the kindness for what it is. A man who sells souls and bargains with demons and kills people with equal amount of interest. A man who doesn’t believe himself to be a god or melomaniac but simply a practical man who knows what he is and what he is not.

A man who knows he’s not good, and doesn’t dare to think he is, a man who has been broken once and put himself back together out of sheer force of will.

Man who, at his heart, still remains humble street rat.

Man who is friends with horrible people because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves better ones. A pact brother to Fowler, who he matches in strength and brutality but not exactly in tastes or debauchery.

Give me a man who once had a goal, he reached it or failed it and now has to keep going, because he made a lot of people dependable on him. A man who keeps his people fed and safe but doesn’t tolerate the littlest bit of resistance or disloyalty because he fell for that once before and he’s still hurt. (Sounds familiar?)

Give us man who maybe had a son or two already but secretly wants a child that he could protect and maybe save and who deep deep down dreams of having a daughter he could spoil rotten. His little princess.

And then he meets Mizu’s mother and he either falls in love or he doesn’t but he suddenly has a goal again and he would be damned if he loses it. And he does lose it, either by having his daughter stolen from him and killing everyone responsible for it, or by thinking both his daughter and his woman were murdered.

Let us see his breaking point, him losing himself in cruelty once again, because he had just what he wanted in the palm of his hand and he threw it all away for a business trip or a seemingly important deal back in London, which turns out to be his biggest mistake.

And then give us a man who sees his daughter again but she’s not his little princess anymore. She never was.

Give us a man who is furious at what this world shaped his daughter to be. Who sees himself in her and he’s seething because he very much wanted her to be the opposite. To be happy and spoiled and loved. And Mizu is not.

She is ruthless, she is vary and she rarely sees kindness for what it is, especially in a foreign land. And she doesn’t trust him, even as he offers help in killing men that Fowler made her hate with his meddling. Men she suspects are either her father or the devil he works with.

Give me man trying desperately to make connection. Even as he bends the rules for her and breaks his own promises and lets himself care again.

And if it all fails and if she discovers he’s her father, he still tries to find a way to keep her. To protect her, shield her. Even if it’s by blackmail, even if he holds her friend’s lives in the palm of his hand as he offers her all the power he has. Even as she hates him with that reckless abandon we all know her to possess.

Give us a man who made a clan out of outlaws and makes Mizu his heir and their princess, as she screams and kicks and tries to get out of this position.

[earl-of-221b]

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

[trashfactorysstuff]

I’ve been thinking on a Au where Mizu was raised by Abijah but soon everything is starting to go downhill once she’s start meeting Taigen and questioning who is her true father.

I animated that short scene because my friend kept insisting too much on it. Scene from “The Legend of Korra”

[speedygardenwobblershark]

The Blue Eye Samurai

My latest animation fixation. Glad youtube recommended the FULL first episode that’s available for anyone to watch!

[winnie-illustrator]

[wordsformizu]

Your Father's Daughter

Mizu x Reader story

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter 1.

“(Y/N)” 

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.

“I am here.” Always. 

[abijahfowler]

this mfer is mizus father because why the hell did he pull all that nonsense about indirectly answering her questions rather then immediately ratting out who her father was IF IT WASN’T HIM to spare his own life. why is he posing things like “you could be routleys.. you could be skeffingtons…” when he very clearly knows the damn answer. and WHY was he so mad at the “eyes like yours” comment that heiji made…. mizu just looks like her mother and those are my two cents.

[carmelide]

blue eye samurai kinda like mamma mia if you think about it actually

[catofoldstones]

All said and done, blue eye samurai is such a great commentary on personal agendas defined by political ideology and governance. Mizu’s blue eyes in a microcosm v the british colonial agenda in a macrocosm. Or fowler barely surviving in poverty in England as a child to literally almost ending the Japanese shogunate.

[friedoats]

Fav bes screencaps

Ep 2 pt 11/24

[isitwrongtotrytopickup---dragons]

Was that first glance truly a gay little moment between Mizu and Akemi, or was she actually surprised (maybe even a little jealous?) that femininity could even look like that? Lavish, spoiled, seemingly loved or at least, something to be desired. I think it's pretty sure that she does not grasp how Akemi's life is a prison just as much as hers. That much is clear in their dialogues and her behavior towards her.

What if that dialogue (you, magical forest creature spoiling your good chances at a good life etc etc) was actually lowkey jealousy? of a life she herself would never get to experience as a woman? of being allowed to be a woman AND have a chance at happiness?

[dreamstate4you]

A journey of revenge

-> 1k words

-> Mizu x male reader

The romance is there... If you squint very hard.

Mizu and Ringo were on their way to Edo. Why? simple Alijah was heading there with his army to kill the shogun and Mizu would be there to kill Alijah.

The plan was simple. The journey wouldn't be too long,but mizu wanted to see someone in a familiar shop that was along their path.

Mr Shoto's shop. He secretly sold explosives illegally to try and rise funds for himself and his twin boys ,but on the outside he was a rundown shop that sold food to anyone willing to eat there.

Mizu and Ringo stood outside the shop. Ringo's curious nature getting the better of him as he started to ask "what are we doing here, Master?" he asked innocently.

Mizu answered him with silence. "stay here Ringo, I'll be back." and just like that mizu left Ringo outside and stepped inside the rundown wodden shop.

It was empty. It made sense considering this was a food shop in the middle of the forest. Behind the counter was a man. He was behind the counter. Looking down at his book records.

He looked up at the sound of the wooden door closing. Before he could say anything. One of the twins run from behind the counter to mizu.

"uncle mizu!" he said so enthusiasticly. His other younger twin shyly following behind him "hello, uncle mizu." he said less enthusiasticly.

Mizu couldn't help but smile at the younger kids that came to embrace him.

She had often bought most of her explosive or any illegals the owner had. Not only because she needed them, but she wanted to help raise funds for the owner and his kids.

"There's my favorite customer." the owner said from behind the counter, Leaning on his side. The boys giggled cheerfully and run off to wherever ever they were going of to play.

"Nagi." mizu said with a small smile. Mizu and Nagi had an interesting history together.

Nagi was a young father, his wife was killed by samurais which lead to him hating Samurai's with his life. He swore to kill the one who took away the mother of his kids. Nagi soon wondered off and found swordfathers home, a sword maker where many Sumurai's come. It seemed like the God were smiling down on him, he hoped to catch and punish the one who wronged him.

Nagi watched from the shadows like a hawk. He watched the Sumurai's enter and leave, he watched the old blind man make swords for these evil, cruel man.

But... There was a child. Nagi noticed a small child that was following around the blind man. He looked small, thin, maybe 7 years younger than him.

At first he thought the blind man had bought the young child as a slave.

Nagi acted without thinking. When he saw the young child alone outside, gathering wood he rushed out from the shadows and tackled them to the ground, covering the child's mouth with their hand so they wouldn't attract the old man's attention.

The two tossed and turned until mizu bite Nagi's hand. "ouch! I'm trying to save you here." magi exclaimed as he slowly backed away from the child, who was still standing alarmed.

"I don't need saving." mizu took a stance that she had always observed from the Samurai's that always came here.

"what do you mean you don't need saving." Nagi said frustrated. "you're a slave for that man... Aren't you?"

"no."

Oh

"he takes care of me."

Nagi stood there like a fool trying to process what mizu said. Eventually Nagi left, but the two had bumped into each other from time to time.

Nagi's frustration and hate to the samurais was slowly being extinguished, the flames were started to yield and Nagi was finding peace, all because of mizu.

Mizu wanted to be a samurai, Nagi couldn't possibly think of killing any samurais after seeing this short little boy try so hard to weild a stick that clearly held more strength than him.

And so the two grew, Nagi opened up a restaurant, a face of what he really sold. He was never proud, but he needed a way to provide for his family, his boys.

Maybe if he saved enough he would move countires, flee and start a new life away from any deadly swords.

"so did you finally kill those white man?" Nagi brought mizu's attention back to Reality.

"no." mizu moved and took a set, Nagi following after her. "I'm going to kill one of them soon."

"Then what are you doing here?" he questioned the samurai.

Mizu placed a heavy pouche of money, filled with gold coins that could be used wherever in the world, on the table. "I came to give you money."

Nagi seemed confused at first.

"use this money to get away, far from Here, far from Japan. You... You and your kids can finally have a happy life." mizu said, her voice slightly slipping with emotions as she spoke.

"mizu." Nagi said her name breathlessly. "thank you." He accepted the pouche. This money would be more than enough. The samurai stood up from her seat, ready to leave.

Nagi reached out trying to say something. "Mizu, wait I-", but before he could say anything the twins rushed back into the shop. Giggling to each other as the proudly stood next to mizu. The oldest held out something, it was a miniature katana, made from sticks and tied together with leaves.

"we wanted to give you this, Uncle mizu." the twin said proudly. Mizu held the miniature sword in her hands, looking at it and looking back at the kids.

This warmed her cold, frozen heart.

She smiled. A genuine smile, a Rare smile, a smile like a proud mother.

She bended down and hugged bother the boys, embracing the young kids she grew to adore. "thank you, boys."

Mizu stood up and looked back at their father "you were saying."

"... Be careful." Nagi said, almost above a whisper.

Mizu noded at him before making her way outside, she was on her journey to Edo, a journey of revenge.

[eerna]

Akemi's ability to judge men at a glance and change her personality and the way she speaks based on whatever is gonna get her what she wants... her fearless playing of both sides of the virgin/whore dichotomy... elegant manipulation that also makes her a spoiled entitled princess... words cannot describe the inhumane acts I will commit if we never get a s2 and don't get to see her court politics plotline

[valkerymillenia]

You know what would be a really interesting plot twist?

If Mizu actually did find her father and it turned out he just wasn't evil. Like, if the man, even as a foreigner, was a genuinely decent person.

It would be interesting to see the moral struggle for Mizu after her whole life's mission was to eliminate the guy. Plus, they vilify the white men so much but it would be interesting if one of them was just a man, not a colonialist horror.

[potekosblog]

What crazy is that her father might be British and I kinda see that 😭

Disgruntled gentleman look

[wordsformizu]

Your Father's Daughter

Mizu x Reader story

Word count: 1.6k

Chapter 6

Soreness, an aching headache, and darkness greeted you as you came to. Your lips were uncomfortably dry and as you ran your tongue over them for moisture you tasted blood. Blinking a couple times to adjust to the lack of light, you felt your senses gather information until your brain could catch up. The floor was hard, cold, and the room was silent with no movement. When you tried to move is when you realized you were bound tightly with rough rope by the wrist and ankles. 

You knew better than to let your body resort to a panic state, but as you began to recollect your memory you felt yourself grow with irritance. Spitting the little blood that puddling under your tongue, you started glancing around the dark room. No candles, no windows, no ability to see any lights from underneath the sliding door. Your kidnappers didn't need to blind you and gag you. There was no sign of any other life but your own around you. No shuffle of footsteps, no conversations deciding your fate to be eavesdropped. Nothing. There was no way for you to estimate how many days you’d been in this state, and while that added to your frustration, it couldn't be your focus. Escaping was a priority.

Like a shadow, you needed to blend in with the darkness that surrounded you and slip out before you were exposed and your fate was sealed. Screaming was not an option. You were going to find your way out of here silently. Shifting your body, and tucking your knees beneath you, you adjusted yourself in a kneeling position. Your captors were smart to keep your hands behind you, but they didn't take into account that you had weapons hidden on your person or that you were flexible enough to reach them. Angling your arm, you reached for the small dagger you hid in a strap on your upper back and was greeted with nothing.

Or had they?

That was fine. You had plenty more hidden but as you were adjusting your body you realized you couldn't feel the comfort of the hard nudge provided by your weapons on your skin. When did they have time to search you thoroughly, you thought. How long had you really been out? Reminding your mental to not panic was easy, but your body seemed to have a mind of its own as cold sweat began to break loose from your pores. Beaten, defeated, and kidnapped. New location, no lights, no sight of help. Limbs bound, body exhausted, and no weapons. This was a nightmare you had never dreamed of, and you didn't have your father to wake you up and sit beside your bed as you drifted back into better dreams. 

Your father. The thought of him stabilized you better than your inner dialogue could. You were doing this for him; everything you did was for him. You refused to fail him, even in this unexpected difficult situation. You’d make a way to shift the odds in your favor again. You couldn't lose, because he never lost. 

Footsteps from down a hallway started walking in the direction of the room you sat in. Quickly, your mind raced to solutions. Glancing around the room, adjusting your eyes to the dark that surrounded you, you realized you had some good cards in your deck. It seemed that you were in some sort of spare storage room with boxes stacked in a few corners. Above you, the ceiling seemed to not be yet completed with a covering, making the wooden planks accessible. You crunched your knees into your chest, making yourself as small as possible so that you could move your tied wrist under your bottom. Now that they were in front, you could use your hands at a better angle. Quickly, you stood up, ignoring the dizzying sensation in your brain. There was no time to lose as the footsteps were growing closer. Hopping over to one of the boxes, you found a way to climb onto a box. Higher and higher you climbed until you were on the closest box to the ceiling. Cautiousness was at its most importance in this moment. If you jumped without precision, you’d miss the ceiling plank and fall onto the floor, alerting your incoming company. If you jumped too hard, there was a chance of toppling the boxes behind you, making noise and also alerting them. Both scenarios would cause them to quicken their pace and enter the room earlier than you were expecting. You took a deep breath, held it and leaped into the air. Whether it was luck or skill, you didn't have the time to determine, but you had made it. Your fingers barely wrapped around the thick wood, as you hung in the air. Releasing your breath to take a couple more, you swung your lower body back and forth until you had enough momentum to hook the back of your knees onto a plank. Careful to balance yourself as your wrist and ankles were still bound, you balanced yourself in a seated position and waited for the door to reveal your first victim. 

In came the apprentience. The distraction who lead you to the samurai in more ways than one. That docile smile never seemed to leave his face as he entered the room with a candle. He was humming a tune, bringing light into the room through his song and small fire. By the time he had finished lighting the small lanterns that lay around the once dark room, you had decided how you would ambush him. 

“You must be scared, but I won’t hurt you.” he spoke into the air. He must believe you were hiding behind one of the boxes as he didnt see you when he entered the room. He must believe that youre quaking and trembling in fear of what would be done to you. He must believe you thought you were the one in harms way.

“I brought something I think you might enjoy! It’s left-overs, but it’s delicious if I do say so myself.” He spoke so lightheartedly, it made it hard to focus. His words intermingled with the safe and sweet tone of his voice. You would not fall for the trap of spoken security, especially from a man. 

You got low as he was lowering himself to light the last candle. You could see him peeking behind one of the boxes, thinking there were no other places you could be hiding. With a quick nudge, you dropped from the ceiling plank and angled yourself in the air to elbow him directly in the back of his neck. At the last minute he turned, ruining your ploy to knock him out. Instead you ended up elbowing him directly in his face which made him release a loud painful yelp. You fell ontop of him, knocking the air out of him, and rolled off and onto your knees. He wasnt quick when it came to combat, or very smart. He covered his face with his nubs and groaned in pain, and if it wasnt for the situation you were in or how you were raised you would have felt bad for him. You remembered the noise he was making would attract the samurai if you were not quick enough to silence him. If you couldn't use your hands, you would use whatever else you could. Standing up and over him, you angled your elbows to directly strike him in the head, silencing him. Before you could aim, hands grabbed around your waist and threw you to the ground. Air was knocked out of your body, but you quickly adjusted and rolled to your knees before another strike put you on your back. 

The samurai had heard his weak apprentice and came to his rescue, which was not what you needed at this time. The apprentice being the first to enter the room was the luckiest you had been, and now that luck slipped out your grasp like river water through one's fingers as the samurai stared down into your eyes. 

You could see him more clearly now up close. All his features and how they meshed together to create the firm, tense mask he carried as a face. You imagined what it would look like without the flame of life dancing beneath his skin, through his veins. What color an “Onryo”’s blood would be once spilled onto the floor. What his last breath would sound like in your ears.  What shade of blue would his eyes become as the light dimmed from them. What he would look like dead. 

In that moment, motivated by shame and anger, as he stared down into your eyes for the first time you realized how much his being dead would satisfy you. You didn't shy away from letting him see this in your eyes. You wanted him to know that even though he stood above you in this moment, it would be standing above him soon. Lowering him into the dirt and never to be seen again.  The eyes could say so much, opening conversations for one to have. It was speaking without the movement of tongues and even more intimate at times. He heard every word. 

“Ringo.” He didn't break eye-contact as he spoke. 

“Master-ow..I’m sorry I di-” The apprentice was beginning to rise, rubbing his forming bruise.

“Get out.” 

“I’m-” 

“Get. Out.” The words were repeated with sharpness, and the apprentice listened as though he were being held at knife-point. He slipped out the door but not before turning to glance at you, and left you two alone.