Chapter Text
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[ eighteen winter ] — [ Soombee ]
0:31 ━❍────── 3:19
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺¹
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Six of age; Mizu was no stranger to the cold snow beneath her feet as she ran.
Her bones were beginning to falter below her flesh, her vision was blurry from the rain and tears that accumulated on her lower eyelids, her muscles numb from the cold night, and her heart drummed loudly. But she did not stop running from the screams and thrown stones she'd been too familiar with.
She ran from the fathers who threatened her, the mothers who scorned her away, and the children who wept and mocked her presence. She ran and did not stop.
"Please," along with her agitated breaths. "stop," she begged.
Her arms were crossed behind her torn clothing when she hid and rested inside an abandoned cabin. The broken window let the winter breeze through, and the cracked wood with stray splinters was her futon for the night. With lips as blue as her eyes, she shivered.
The door creaked open and she flinched, frozen when a girl, a few years older than she was, appeared with a lantern in one hand and a box in the other. Like a statue of the winter's effect, Mizu's bones stiffened, and she was eager to leave and run once again.
"Found you."
The girl stepped forward and Mizu flinched, on guard of her. She wanted to run but her body refused to move, to stand and leave, as if she was paralyzed.
The girl smiled a little and put down the lantern beside Mizu. "Don't run away again. Your feet might fall."
Mizu's watchful eyes remained still on the girl; watching when she opened the box as Mizu flinched in fright -- she pulled herself back, a step away from the girl. She pulled out a cup and a rectangular-shaped box, the last she took out was something Mizu hadn't expected; a pot for tea.
The girl poured the liquid from the pot into the cup and Mizu was reluctant but continued to watch. She uncovered the rectangular box and inside was food, something Mizu had not had for days, if not weeks.
The girl organized everything, and slowly pushed it towards her after. Mizu's body was rigid, her knees up and back pressed against the wall, evident short breaths she desperately tried catching.
"My father warned me about you, that there was a roaming onryo in town." Mizu's gaze shifted from the food to the girl's face, a soft smile plastered on her lips. "I disagree. I think you're just a lost little girl."
Mizu's breath hitched. A first that a stranger had recognized her sex after living her whole life perceived as a boy, convincing everyone that she was. The muscles in her body relaxed at the warmth of the lantern and the solace in her voice.
"I was on my way to a friend's house when I saw you running towards our old cabin. This was supposed to be my meal but it is yours now. Enjoy." She smiled wider before standing, Mizu's observing eyes remained on her.
"I apologize this is all I can give you. Perhaps tomorrow night, you should come by our home. My dad owns the tea shop in the village, you'd see it." Mizu's eyebrows curled at such a statement. "Be quiet when you do. I'll give you a kimono of mine, and more food."
She walked towards the door but stopped and turned as if she was about to state another thing. "Enjoy the tea the most! My father makes the best tea in town."
It was the last she said before leaving, in her restricting kimono on a cold night, and Mizu only wondered if the girl was crazy. She looked back at the lantern, gaze drifting to the meal, and thought if she must give it all back.
She was hesitant when she grabbed the tea that heated her numb palms, and uncertain when she grabbed the warm rice from the rectangular box. When the food touched her tongue, she fully indulged in it almost immediately, tending to her loud stomach.
As the night fully fell and so did she with a full belly, she looked over to the lantern; she wished she thanked the stranger girl.
It was the night after she visited Mizu in their old cabin when the girl was in the kitchen, cleaning the floor. A soft knock came from the front door, but audible enough for her to hear and have her shuffling towards it before anyone else did.
A smile embroidered her lips, expecting the messy-haired, and blue-eyed girl. Instead, she is met with the lantern and the box on the ground, but no girl in sight. Her face fell in disappointment, but kneeled to take the items anyway. She looked around for hope of seeing Mizu but did not, and closed the door when she got in.
Mizu watched from behind the neighboring house of the girl, watched as the girl's face shifted, and saw her take the things and close the door. A lingering thought to knock once again had come about, to utter her gratitude, but she walked away from the village -- away from the people who despised her.
Away from the girl that helped her, that she had not gotten the chance to thank. Away from the unnamed girl. She hoped they'd meet again.
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Mizu was no stranger to the blood and the marks on her skin, the taste of copper lying on her tongue, or the metal steel in contact with her bare flesh. The coldness of the blade collided with the heat of her body and the throbbing pain on her ribcage made it a harder time for her to breathe; each movement sent shockwaves through her nerves and the world blurred.
It had just been another day when a drunk wandering gang of ronin had decided to target Mizu. It should've just been another day where she cut through them, but she did not notice the flying daggers until they pierced through her. It was an unfortunate event, a waste of time. The blades had penetrated through fatal parts of her body, steels so close to the lungs that they could cut it, to the spine that death would've been quick.
The scene remained silent by corpses, interrupted only by the Mizu's labored breathing after she pulled the blade out of her back; a rush of hot, sticky blood followed, staining her clothes and the ground beneath her.
"Fuck," Mizu cursed beneath her losing breath. Her vision was blurry, her body felt numb, her legs worn so suddenly, and her head heavy as if she was about to fall.
She felt cold like snow had just been lying beneath her tired feet; like there was a winter breeze slicing her skin despite the midst of pink blossoms of spring.
And she remembered that night in the cabin.
Mizu woke up in complete sweat and with a body that refused to move; her mind was rising as she frantically looked around the unfamiliar room. Her memories were like static as she tried to recall the events of what brought her to this place, this place that smelled of lavender and orchids, and how she managed to be here.
All she remembered was passing out and dropping to the ground.
She fought the aching and pain as she sat up, the pain in her ribcage and at her spine ripping almost so audibly while she hissed in annoyance.
She realized that the robe embracing her skin was not hers, the bindings once tightly squeezing her chest were gone, and so were the weights around her ankles and wrists. Except her sword remained by her side.
"Ah, I see you've woken." Her fierce glare shot right up to you, a fire so evident in her eyes you knew you'd burn if you looked back. You were gentle with your movements, short, lady-like, as you made your way towards her with a cup of water in hand.
"You did this." It was more of a statement than a question, her voice was solid and threatening while she glared. "Indeed." You responded and placed the cup of water before her, kneeling as you did.
As you stood, Mizu did the same. Her movements, in contrast to yours, were swift and sharp but you noticed the slight sway of her feet, noticed the fast breathing from her chest, and knew immediately of the company you'd be having. Her hand had clasped her wound and despite the stinging pain that stretched through her entire body, this did not stop her from being quick on her feet.
She was completely in front of you before you knew it, with her piercing eyes glaring down. You hadn't realized the unsheathed blade brushing your neck until a loud ringing clanged beneath your chin. You knew who she truly was; you were a threat to her schemes and goals, a troublesome burden that had gotten in the way and one she thought to dispose of -- a remedial decision to ease any complication that may be brought by your presence. You could be a barrier and you had the voice to stand tall, although she had the blade right against your pulse to carve that out of you.
"You know better than to slice a woman, samurai." Your voice was calm.
"I could." Mizu's low voice threatened, pushing closer towards you. Your brow lifted as if you did not believe the phrase.
Her jaw visibly clenched and her eyes lowered, before her sword fell from your throat and her hand took hold of your kimono instead. Her breath collided with yours it had been one, like affinity before a ceremony.
"Tell anyone about this, about me," Your gaze dropped to the metal on her hand that stained crimson, evidence of her capabilities, and deeds. "this is your death."
"Is this supposed to be your thank you?" You glowered. "You had a cut so close it touched your lungs. Another dagger went to your back, so close to your spine -- so close to your death. You swam in your own blood and if it wasn't for me, you'd be dead."
You did not flinch, but instead, the gentle and stoic woman you'd been a few seconds ago had completely altered. You two were staring, scowling at one another, Mizu couldn't help but smirk a little at how valiant you were. The remnants of the dried blood of her enemies were visible; on the sword -- on her skin, you saw the scars and marks of her body, depths that showed experience far more than your needlework may contest. But this did not seem to sway you.
Deep inside, truly, you were frightened. Eyes of an unfamiliar shade flaming so deeply, not so evident outside the skies hue.
Mizu sighed in irritation and let go, the wound beneath her chest and back winning against her despite her tough resistance.
"I'll be leaving. Tell me how much I owe you." She noticed her trembling hands as she covered her aching wounds, and she knew you saw it too.
"A lone needle is all it takes for your death right now, samurai. So lie down and rest." You insist with a tad sneer in your tone, but Mizu shook her head despite the patch of blood seeping through her clothes, despite the striking pain that made her hiss and halt completely.
She felt helpless, it had been long since she's ever been. She couldn't stop thinking about that one night in that abandoned cabin, a night she'd been so impotent -- a girl who helped such a feeble kid. She knew she had to leave, and also knew she couldn't.
"Stay here." You ordered before leaving.
You came back with the woman sitting against the wall and with her sword in her embrace. Mizu's skin had gone sickeningly pale she could be mistaken for a corpse, and you were fast to recognize her condition. She seemed so eager to leave and run like an untamed child.
You laughed silently, not expecting that it would be a fever that would strike this formidable samurai. She'd (always) been the talk of the town; the roaming onryo, the demon that would shred anyone he was faced with, all so suddenly defeated by a fever like a child.
A state like this was so peculiar to her, perhaps the undeniably developed arrogance played a role in her disappointment towards herself. Strong, capable, and formidable, yet is now taken care of by a woman in a place she doesn't even know -- in a predicament so vulnerable that even a child is a competition against her.
You kneeled before her, only then did Mizu notice a tray in your hand.
"Dinner. For you." You organized the meal before her and her watching eyes cautious of every movement you made.
Mizu only stayed silent, gaze dropping to the food before her. The rice looked deliciously warm, the fish cooked well, and the vegetables seasoned to their finest. Her clothes clumped inside her hardened fist as she cursed herself for that noise in her stomach, embarrassed so suddenly.
"How did you find me?" You sighed, pushing her food closer to her. It was the least of your expectations for her to be talkative but you did not blame her doubts.
"A man started screaming that a samurai was bleeding to death, a blue-eyed one, specifically." You paused before organizing your own meal. "No one believed him, called him 'crazy', for why should the infamous blue-eyed samurai be bleeding to death in a small and insignificant town such as ours? You were lying on the road when I saw you, it would've been inhumane of me to leave you there."
She stayed quiet, staring at you as you poured tea on both your cups. "I took you into my house." You smiled, an eyebrow of hers lifted at the sudden curve on your lips. "I was glad you were still conscious, a bit, to help me help you for I would've dragged you through the dirt if you weren't."
It was silent for a few so you started to eat your food, though Mizu hadn't touched hers, and you pondered whether she'd eat -- if she'd even.
"Are you not scared?"
You halted completely, from chewing, and instead met her eyes. Confusion coated her expression, or perhaps, doubt, as to why an individual who did not know her was so hospitable; she, who was with a katana on her hip and dried stained blood on her skin, blood that you wiped and cleaned off her, yet you welcomed her in the comfort of your home. In her veins flowed the blood of the foreign and demonic species, with her eyes as an exterior of this mixed breed that she was -- impurities many wish to rid of.
Such reaction was no strange thing, when they scurry in disgust or throw daggers because of fright.
Yet she was wearing your clothes, resting at your home, and your food was before her. Perhaps you were crazy, she thought.
"You have a murderer in your home. If someone sees me getting comfortable in your quarters, your house could be burned down." Her tone was sharp and hard.
She threatened you yet you were there before her, having dinner with her, and even poured her tea for her. You did not know her name yet you smiled at her as if she was a friend.
"Should I be scared?" You caught her in surprise, lips slightly parting. "You are a woman with a sword on her belt and your eyes are alike to the sea. It is rare, but that's all there is to it." You took a sip of your tea before dabbing the corner of your lip. "You needed help, so I helped."
Mizu could only watch as you ate, her tongue unknowingly swiping at her bottom lip in an agitated way she hadn't felt for so long. Doubt washed over her chest that it stung and gnawed, burdening her lungs that her breath caught beneath this disrupting lump.
Why were you doing this for her? A stranger with foreign blood within -- blood you wiped and cleaned yourself. A murderer with a sword on her hip, a blade you felt against your skin after helping her. She'd been convinced you needed something in return, for such kindness is not given without a debt established.
"Eat." You said, breaking her completely from the trance she seemed to indulge in. "You need to restore your energy."
You noticed the hesitance in her movements as she grabbed the chopsticks, as she took the food, she smelled it and finally ate it.
You smiled, amused.
The cold wind of the night grazed your skin frigid in contrast to the smoke you ingested, heat that kissed your lungs a warmth that was your sole serenity. It never felt nice, the clawing smoke you voluntarily intake and exchange for the air in your body, yet you find it between your lips every night as if it was a lover's kiss.
The door beside you had slid open, completely unexpectedly, for your guest stated herself that I won't be going out, people will see. You didn't push her either, for what would they think if they saw an unmarried man -- that wasn't a man -- and a woman under the same roof?
You two immediately met eyes, an automatic grin plastered to your lips as you watched her step out with the very same cold expression still etched on her face. "I thought--"
"No one is awake to see."
It was silent, the tension remained hanging around you and a part of you just wished she'd go back inside; to leave you like you wanted, why you were outside in the first place. You told her to rest but there she was, standing by you with her hand below her chest -- a stubborn tall child you already saw her as.
"...I can't figure out why you're truly doing this," the stern tone in her voice did not leave and seemed to remain for so long, seemed to be staying. "But whatever you want in return, I'll do it."
You laughed loudly like she said something clever that had you showing all your teeth. "Oh, samurai. Do you think of me as that kind of woman?"
You leaned in and she noticed your drunken eyes and wondered if the pipe between your fingers had that effect, or whether this was who you really were. You were strangers after all, what does she know about you?
"Do you think that I did it in exchange for -- what? What are you thinking? Money? Sex?" You only laughed at the shock that washed over her face, seeing the cold and stoic expression built so well came falling. Her hands went up to her face, fixing the glasses on the bridge of her nose as she cleared her throat and looked away from you.
"I didn't mean that." Mizu wished you didn't notice the rising burn at the tip of her ears. "I just want to thank you."
The grin faded from your lips, your gaze turning back to the woman beside you. You hadn't realized how tall she was compared to you until now when you stood by one another. "I owe it to you. So let me show you my gratitude in any... appropriate," she gulped. "form that you wish of me to accomplish. Let me thank you."
You both stayed quiet, uncertain of what to say now as you two only relished the breeze of the night. A smile couldn't help but appear on your face.
"What's your name?" You asked.
"Mizu." She responded. "And yours?"
You said your name and heard her mumble it beneath her breath, as if she noted it in her mind, stored it as if it was important.
"Do I know you?" Mizu asked all so suddenly, your eyes cutting to meet. Shock wrote over your face this time, your lips slightly apart, and your heart was on your throat. You looked away, refraining from seeing those narrowed eyes reading you like an open book.
Mizu knew you, somehow (at some point), she saw you and knew you.
The curve of your eyes, the point of your nose, that smile; details too presumptuous to the boundaries of her mind, more than she'd appreciate.
"Be my guest until your wound has healed. Rest before you resume your travel." Was all you said before turning to her, a welcoming and affable smile drew on your lips. Her eyebrows curled in surprise and confusion as to why you didn't answer. Before she could ask again, you interrupted her to it. "Don't run away. Your feet might fall."
You stepped back into your house yet Mizu remained, suddenly her muscles froze, and her mind perceived something beyond peculiar. Like it was all too familiar; her, a stranger, a house. It was a picture she knew but couldn't figure which, an evocation of the busy heart she once admired.
It was early morning when you were at your entrance, attempting to push the door from being completely opened by a woman with grey hair and wrinkles around her eyes, cheeks red from anger. She'd been loud and screaming at you for long, embarrassment filled you when the others that passed your house stared and watched.
You desperately tried to dismiss the worsening chaos at your house where your most perilous guest was sleeping comfortably, mind clouded that you did not notice the presence beside you.
"Please, Madam. I am telling the truth when I say I don't have any more medicine for you--"
"Well find a way! My boy needs it and you have to prioritize him!"
You sighed, about to respond when a warm breath had all of a sudden fanned your cheek. "Is she bothering you?" The husky voice bit your ear, a ripple to your spine at such a low tone. Your eyes shifted to the woman beside you, hiding behind the door with worry and frustration in her eyes.
Your hand immediately grabbed Mizu's elbow, a solid grip as you kept her in place in fear she'd show to the woman. She stared at your hand around hers, gaze not at all leaving. You frantically apologized and explained to the loud woman while Mizu peered, eyes switching between your face and your hand.
When the woman finally left and your door closed, even when you noticed that she stared, you did not let go. "Did that wake you up?" You grinned in apology. "How are you feeling?" You asked as you stood on your toes and placed the back of your hand against her forehead, her eyebrows lifting in surprise when it slid down to her cheek and jaw.
"Mm, you still need rest." Your hand did not leave her arm -- it was almost all she felt at that moment, the heat of your hand around hers, and the lingering touch of the other on her face.
You pulled her to the dining table, gently when you made her sit. You made your way to the kitchen and she watched in curiosity.
"Why was she creating havoc at your door?" Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and a curve on your lip appeared, finding the frown on her face caused by her concern for you quite endearing. She was not as cold as she seemed, not as unfriendly as you thought.
"People come to me when they need medicine or tea. I told her I didn't have the supplies her son needed and she went mad." You told as you prepared the ingredients, assembling both your breakfasts.
When those blue eyes locked with yours, you couldn't help but look away. You cleared your throat.
You weren't a doctor; never dreamt of taking care of people or stitching their open flesh, getting blood underneath your fingernails, or washing your blood-stained hands. It was what you were known for starting at 12 when your hands were stable enough to hold a knife and needle. You managed to earn money from it, sometimes more, not because of your talent or expertise in the area, but because you had that face that had men leave extra coins in your hands.
You came to the table with two trays; placing one before hers and one for you, all this watched so intently by her.
She felt guilty of all a sudden, how much burden she'd probably been to you, having to exert twice the effort for her. Mizu knew she owed you.
When she brought the warm tea to her lips, the liquid was smooth and flavorful on her tongue. Her eyes widened and you noticed, a proud grin found your lips. "My father was known for creating the best tea back in my hometown before, that tea is his. Do you like it?"
Her gaze shifted from the tea to you, like you'd said something so surprising. A faint curiosity displayed over her expression at your words, vague ideas slipped her mind that you wished she would not entertain further. You knew, of course, why she was. But not one of you started, and neither of you would; so you started to eat despite the feeling of those eyes watching and taking in every small detail of you, and even when you met eyes, her gaze did not leave you and scrutinized you instead.
Mizu recognized the fact you were older, which was evident not only from the way you talked or moved but even the gleam in your eyes was not alike to the young women that constantly lunged themselves at her. Your knowledge and talent regarding the mature aspects of womanhood unveiled themselves with no restraint, maturity was an embellishment on you.
You were beautiful, something Mizu wouldn't deny. You were an attractive woman, one Mizu knew most would not blatantly spurn but instead enthusiastically jumped upon into the opportunity for care from you -- given your attended occupation.
But she wouldn't admit that.
After what felt like so long, you finally finished your meal and Mizu followed immediately after as she walked behind you. "I will clean it." You were about to insist for she was your wounded guest, but the gaze she does -- that keen look especially when her head is tilted down at you like that, when her shoulder brushed to yours, when her lidded eyes peered at you.
"Fine." You let go and left, refused to stay close. You reminded yourself that she was a woman such as you were, remembering to breathe after realizing you'd been holding in the entire time.
The days that passed had no special occurrence within as you were grateful enough for acquiring the simplicity of allowing a swordsman in the comfort of your home. Usually, you'd find her in your shared quarter, looking through your books or belongings, curious when she did. Sometimes she was in the kitchen, inspecting your harvested herbs and it impressed you, for there were times when she accurately matched the plants to your books.
There were moments when you both shared the faint pleasant sentiments of each other's company, whether during the light of the day, the glow of the noon's hour, or when the moon is with its' stars; when her cold facade emerged small smiles and witty remarks while across one another in the dining table, or inside the warmth of your futon and she was in hers and drowsiness still hadn't touched you. Short conversations and indistinct smiles, it didn't feel so lonely. You knew the purpose of her journey after she told you, the goals and ambitions she wished to accomplish accompanied by the tattoo on her inner elbow.
But a hint of curiosity still seized you, as you gazed over the visible scars, the supposed supple parts of the flesh of a woman were hardened on her by the battles and clashes that she restricted herself to discuss. The lines beneath her eyes, the contrasting glisten on those blue rims when they peered at you. You wanted to know.
"Come to the room, I will give you new bandages." You told her, failing to notice her reaction to your order.
You sat at the wide space before your futon and hers met, despite being of the same sex, distance, and privacy were still assured between you two. She arrived at the chamber before sliding the door shut.
Her movements were all of a sudden hesitant and uncertain, and you could only almost laugh at her strange behavior. "Sit in front of me." She followed and she sat, facing you, she only prayed that you hadn't noticed the growing unease in her eyes.
You kept your laugh by covering your mouth with courtesy. "Turn around." She listened and it felt like ordering a child.
"Strip." Her muscles had stiffened, your smile only growing wider. Her movements were languid, hesitating, and embarrassed. You watched her kimono slide off her shoulders; muscles and scars visible that presented experiences and stories you pondered how had occurred.
It wasn't voluntarily and consciously performed when your hand started to rise, when the tip of your finger suddenly brushed the marks embroidered on her skin so gently. You felt her body stiffen and shiver beneath your touch that it emitted a light laugh from you.
You were curious as you softly traced patterns on her exposed skin. She cursed herself, for suddenly letting you, for losing that composure, for feeling her face warm.
"Tell me about them," It had caught her completely off guard when you suddenly talked; all she could manage to say was an incomplete 'huh', barely even a phrase. "Each scar entails a story, each fragment of who you are."
She remained uncertain of exactly what you meant yet did not push the effort to understand -- as she could barely even let out a breath to utter a simple word.
You started to unwrap the old bandage that surrounded her torso, careful and slow to refrain from hurting her. Each time your finger grazed her skin, she'd freeze, and her breath hitched.
She cursed herself.
"Is it bad," You said. "that I want to know you more, Mizu?"
Your warm breath against the back of her neck contrasted with your frigid hands, she could only manage to swipe her tongue over her bottom lip at the moment and tighten her fists over her knees. She'd gotten too feeble -- unused to this behavior; when her pulse paces and stops, when her breath stops at her throat, when her mind clouds.
She was sick and she badly needed a cure. She wasn't sure if this medication would be salvaged by you; if your skillset would treat this disease in her chest and stomach that seemed so abruptly tingly.
"You don't want to get too close to me." She admitted. Despite how on-edge her behavior had been, her voice remained low and steady, with a husk that always effused a ripple beneath your skin.
Like a moth to a flame, drawing too close would prompt burning. She refrained from that happening again -- letting someone in.
You finished wrapping the new bandage around her torso, now clean and fresh but neither of you moved and only stilled. She put her kimono back on and tied it tight.
You untied her hair as it fell below her shoulders, now undone but she did not resist you, did not speak when your hands tangled with her hair.
How strange.
You finished braiding her smooth hair without much endeavor as you clipped it with your pin. You stood and went in front of her, catching her eyebrows rise in surprise as she watched you kneel before her. Your fingers brushed the strands of hair that were always tucked at the side of her temple, letting it now hover over her eyebrows and lids.
There, in front of you, was no longer a swordsman, but a woman. You smiled. "You're beautiful."
Thud.
You stood from where you were and stepped out of the quarters, pausing on your feet before completely departing. "Take some medicine and tea, then continue to rest for the whole day." You dictated to her and then left. Mizu let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding the entire time, closing her eyes, and catching the lost air and composure she sought so desperately. "Get a grip."
The day was fast when you continued to do your work at home, sometimes leaving to attend to little boys' care and their angry mothers who went mad in a desperate order. When it was time for dinner, no words or gazes were exchanged between the two of you despite being at the same table, as if neither of you was there.
When you left to deliver herbs to a neighbor and came back home, Mizu had already been in her futon and was likely to be asleep. You followed after, settling in the comfort and warmth of yours, your back turned to her.
You woke up the next morning and Mizu was gone.
Her belongings were not in sight, her sword, glasses, hat, everything was gone as if she'd never been there in the first place.
You found a note on the table, with a handwriting that was not yours.
Thank you for letting me stay. I will find you again to return what I owe you.
You laughed at the thought of meeting Mizu lying on the floor with a bloodied kimono again. You only wondered when you would meet that helpless child again, whether it'd be in this small insignificant town or during the storms of winter once more.
You weren't worried, though, if you would meet, because you knew you would as if it was bound.
You met the blue-eyed child after years from that one winter night at the cabin, you will meet again soon during the rain of autumn.
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