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thewordswewrite · 4 months

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Like Winter, Like Spring

Pairing | Mizu x Fem!Reader

Summary | After the events of episode five, Mizu stumbles into the forest barely clinging to life and you happen to be hunting.

Or what would happen if you found Mizu bleeding out and cared for her (in more ways than one)?

Warnings | NSFW 18+, mentions of injury/blood/killing

W/C | 7.3k

A/N | I’ve been consumed by this show and can't help but recommend it to everyone, so please if you haven't already done so, watch it. Please leave me some comments and lmk what you think!!-Smoe<33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link

Part Ⅰ: Winter

In the moonlit haze, a spirit roams, lost and cold, whispers of vengeance unfold, onryo's bitter gaze.

The snow soaked through your socks as you took exaggerated steps through the powder, cold seeping into your toes and numbing them. Though you had enough firewood to last until the first thaw, your food stores were beginning to dwindle. It had been a harsh winter, one your father hadn’t survived, leaving you to fend for yourself. Your day had been one of minor success; three rabbits hung from the rope tied around your waist, a haul good enough for the next few nights based on their size and you decided to head home.

Food was becoming harder to come by, and without your father, you could not venture into Mihonoseki to stock up on more dried goods. Your father had always been of more liberal views but you were still a woman and he was still your father meaning you knew where you stood in society. Due to necessity alone, your father taught you to hunt; a bow and arrow the ‘only thing suited to a woman’ your father once told you.

You pulled your scarf tighter around your head as the wind whipped around you, snow falling harder and harder as you walked. You were sure anyone else other than you caught in the storm would be utterly lost, but you knew the place like the back of your hand. As the wind howled, it carried to you the sounds of the forest and with it a distant grunt of pain, just loud enough for your keen ears to pick up on and you stilled. You would have ignored it–a lone man more often than not meaning trouble–but he was headed in the direction of your home and therefore you needed to act. With your brow set, you sank into a crouch and rifled through the snow until your unfeeling fingers grasped a rock, waiting for another sound from the man.

A hunter knew how to stalk its prey and in that moment you treated the man as nothing more. With every sound he made you got closer, using the noise from the environment to mask your own as you trailed him. In the distance, you caught sight of someone clad in navy and in the opposite direction of your home, threw the rock. You hadn’t been too worried until you heard the ‘shing’ of a katana and the crash of a tree.

A samurai.

It could be no one else with that blade or skill, and though they were meant to be honorable, you knew, they were still men. You knew every road, every tree that grew in these woods and as you were coming back up on the main trail where the samurai fled, one was struck down. Your pale hand reached out to stroke the clean-cut trunk, not yet five years old by your count and yet it had fallen. It was mindless acts of violence like this that made you distrustful of strangers.

A quick glance at the area revealed a small trail of blood, likely left by the man, and you couldn’t help but let a rueful smile grace your lips. His death would be easier than you thought. Cold, lost, and injured was a dangerous combination for anyone, but for a man in your woods? It was lethal.

You were soundless as you descended upon your prey, a respectable distance away but close enough to see his profile. He was dressed in simple pants and a shirt, though the latter looked to be soaked through with blood as one of his hands pressed against his stomach, the other grasping a blue blade, ripe for attack. It was too easy for you to nock an arrow and draw, your breath steadying as you aimed for his heart. You were preparing for the release when suddenly to your left a twig snapped and the samurai’s gaze turned to the noise, and then onto you.

The man raised his sword, removing his hand from his side to give the encounter his full attention. “Who sent you?”

You were puzzled by the question. Not only were you clearly a woman, but who was he that he thought himself important enough to have assassins sent after him? You didn’t think to voice these questions aloud but they were answered anyway when you finally caught sight of his eyes: blue.

When he spoke again, he must have registered that you were not who he thought you were. “I am no threat to you. I am just passing through.” To prove his point he sheathed his blade and put up his hands.

You hesitated to drop your own weapon but since he was injured and still a good enough distance away, you let-down your bow and stood to your full height, noticing the man was not much taller than you.

“Leave here!” You shouted, hands still latched to your grip and arrow, ready to fire should the need arise.

The samurai began backing up slowly, nodding to you and returning pressure to the wound at his side. When he did so, he grunted and his eyes fluttered. It all seemed to happen in a single moment when he was suddenly face down in the snow and you were taking brisk but weary steps towards him. As you got closer, the extent of his injuries became clearer and you could see the tips of his ears and nose red from the cold. Your eyes closed in exasperation; you hadn’t intended to stumble across a half-white, dying samurai let alone bring him to your home, but seeing as you weren’t too far away and he had shown no intention of attacking you, you could not, in good conscience, leave him in the snow to die.

With a huff, you flipped the man over, grabbed him under the arms, and began to haul him toward your home, the dense snow making the task almost more difficult than you could manage. You knew he was alive based solely on the noises of discomfort he released in his sleep as you readjusted your grip and pulled harder. You were forced to stop every few feet, panting from the effort it took but when you finally were able to kick open your door and get him in front of the fireplace, you felt a sense of relief.

As you pulled up the samurai’s kimono, you got a glimpse of four deep gashes punctured into his stomach and your heart dropped. “Please stay with me.”

It was immediately apparent to you what had caused his wounds: Boss Hamata, or more accurately, his Thousand-Claw Army. That would explain why he thought someone had sent you after him and why he was covered in so much more blood than what was plausibly his own. Anxiety sent goosebumps down your arms. The thought of one of Boss Hamata’s men coming to your home and killing the both of you for whatever this samurai did entered your mind. You tried to reason with yourself; no man in his right mind would enter this storm and they must know the samurai was injured, likely only letting him go because he was sure to die. That was that you decided: he could stay until the storm passed and not a second longer. Enough time, by the looks of it, for him to heal enough to leave but not enough for anyone to come knocking at your door looking for him.

With your mind made up, you went about untying his kimono to get better access to his wound. Your still-warming fingers deftly undid the knot and moved to unwrap the samurai when suddenly a hand shot up and wrapped itself around your wrist, halting your actions.

“No.” The man’s eyes fought to open and you were once again treated to a glimpse of blue through thick black lashes. He was only able to mutter the single word before he once again fell unconscious and you stared at him a beat longer.

He didn’t have the luxury of his warning being granted, and you instead opened his shirt, only to find his chest already wrapped. Or rather her chest already wrapped. A gasp escaped you as you balked at the sight, eyes darting again to the face of the person below you and noticing not only the sharp curve of their jaw but the softness of their cheeks and decidedly feminine-looking lips. Yes, you stopped your thoughts from drifting, she was a woman, but that made your job no different.

With clinical movements, you cleaned her wound with warm water, being sure to be as gentle as possible. You retrieved a suture kit your father had gotten from town after you had cut yourself chopping wood one day and began to sterilize the needle over the fire. You ran your fingers over the inflamed skin and worried when the woman’s stomach felt warm. The stitches were quick and clean, the woman below you making no movements which worried you but did make the process easier. Once each of the four gashes was closed, you wrapped up her stomach with strips of fabric and struggled to remove her soaked shirt–though, you left her pants for the sake of her already violated modesty.

You looked at her face once again, now less troubled looking than before, and saw hints of purple peeking out from under her scarf. Much like her shirt you undid her scarf as well and were horrified to see a deep purple handprint marring her skin. With little else you could do you opened your door, the wind catching it as you did so, slamming it open in your rush to gather enough snow to compress onto the samurai’s neck.

Another gust wafted flurries into your home, chilling the room before you could close the door in time and you cursed. You wrapped the snow in the previously discarded scarf and placed it on the samurai’s neck in hopes it would ease the pain. As tightly as you could, you bundled the woman in your father’s blanket and placed your own rolled-up one under her head as support after taking her katana and placing it across the room. Just in case.

With nothing else to do to try and keep her alive, you finally got to skinning the rabbits and making yourself dinner. You decided to wait until the woman was awake until you tried to feed her and thus only made enough for yourself. The food was hearty and warm and after the exertion you surrendered to the day, you were exhausted. In lieu of having a blanket, you threw on a second kimono and huddled close to your guest and the fire and, in an act of trust, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

- ⚔ -

You startled awake at the sound of someone shuffling around your home but all at once the memories of the day before come back to you.

“You’re awake,” You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you looked over at the half-clothed samurai propped up against your wall.

“You stitched my wounds. Why?” The woman’s voice was thick and gravelly but you could only focus on her eyes.

Your answer was simple and steadfast. “I could not leave you when you meant me no harm.”

The woman seemed to scan your face and must have found what she was looking for when she relaxed and coughed at the simple action. You took the lull to stand and place your kettle on the fire, intending on making sobacha tea for your guest. Her entire demeanor shifted when you moved and she realized she was without her sword.

“Where is my katana?” The woman ground out, eyes darting around the space.

You gestured silently to where it lay on the other side of the room and went back to pouring the tea, steeping it to your liking and hoping it was to the tastes of the woman across from you. You handed a steaming cup to the woman and cleared your throat, intending to find out more about your mysterious guest. You watched as she took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes for a moment to savor the flavor or feeling you were unsure but either way were happy she approved.

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The woman paused before she answered, “Mizu.”

You introduced yourself and went about using the final two rabbits you killed to make a stew as well as some rice to help fill up. The silence between you two was undemanding as Mizu simply sat with her eyes closed while you cooked. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, offering a bowl to your guest which she took while meeting your eyes.

Mizu bowed her head. “I want to thank you for your hospitality and for saving my life.”

“As I said, I had to.” You shook your head with a smile as you ate.

The woman’s face suddenly went solemn and she put down her bowl. “Yes, but now you have to keep my secret, or else I cannot allow you to keep your life.”

Your eyes darted over to where her katana was, still half a room away, and took a steadying breath. “I can promise you I will never tell another soul but I need something in return,” Mizu looked at you apprehensively, her eyebrow raised. “You must be gone by the time the storm ends. I cannot be caught sheltering you in my home or Boss Hamata will have me killed.”

Her attention drifted from you, her expression unbothered. “You needn't worry about him or his army.”

“Why? You were clearly attacked by one of his men and–” Mizu cut you off with a raise of her hand.

“I killed them all.”

You took a moment to revel in the shock of the admission, spoken as though it was nothing more than a typical day for the female samurai. In your revelation, Mizu slid her bowl over to you, the blanket covering her shifting with the action and your cheeks warmed. You go to look away but stop yourself, instead letting your eyes search over her bandages for any signs of infection or bleeding before Mizu goes to cover herself back up, shooting you an indignant look.

“Oh! No, I–” You backtracked, knowing how it must have seemed. “Your wound, I was just looking to see if I should replace the bandages and…” You gestured to the bloodied cloth, “It looks like I should.”

Mizu looked down at herself and grimaced at the sight. “Fine, but I can do it myself.”

You nodded and retrieved a bowl of water for her to clean herself with as well as a new set of cloth to rewrap herself. You watched her struggle to undo the wrapping for a total of two minutes before you couldn’t help but reach towards her in aid though as you did she jerked away, wincing at the action and your face tightened.

“Please, let me help you.”

The two of you were locked in a stare-down, neither willing to give up ground so you decided to take it, scooting yourself forward and batting away her hands. Mizu looked ready to put up a fight but instead, she relented, allowing you to reach around her torso. Your faces were close as you did so, Mizu’s warm breath wafting sharply across your cheek as you pulled on the dressing to release it.

She began moving in every which way as you passed the bandages around her body to try and help the process go by quickly but your hands must have been chilled because when you finally revealed her skin and ran a hand along the plane of her stomach Mizu shivered and you looked up to see her eyes already trained on you. Mizu kept a hard look on her face as you wiped away congealed blood from her wound though it looked to you to have already begun scabbing, causing a self-satisfied smile to grace your face.

“It’s looking better. I think you should be okay to travel in a few days.” The labored breathing of the injured woman forced another comment from you. “Although, I think it would be beneficial for you to remove your bindings for the time being.”

Mizu gave you another long look and you figured that she must not be used to conversing with people regularly, a trait you both now shared. In retaliation, Mizu attempted to take a deep breath though before she could, her lungs stuttered out dry coughs and her face screwed up in pain at the action.

“Fine.” She ground out, once again attempting to remove the wrap on her own and failing.

You were unamused at the sight and decided to skip the dance the two of you had been playing at since you dragged her into your home and just helped her instead. It was a similar tension as when you removed her bloodied bandage but thicker by about tenfold when your eyes met again.

You couldn’t get over the sight, blue as the sky and sea but clouded by emotion. She looked to be studying you just the same, her eyes languidly making their way over your features before settling on your mouth. You couldn’t help but let your lips part, overcome with the moment and Mizu’s increasingly seductive gaze. Your cheeks burned under her but you weren't alone in your fluster, Mizu’s own face tinged pink as well, shared heat radiating between you.

All you had to do was lean forward and–

You cleared your throat at the thought and pulled back, “I’ll let you finish on your own. I’ll leave you.”

- ⚔ -

Ethereal and pale, haunting tales of love's demise, echo through her cold blue eyes, as sorrow sets its sail.

Hunting always cleared your mind, which, at that moment, was racing with thoughts of feelings you’d never experienced before. It wasn’t the fear of attraction that bothered you, but the fear of who you’d grown such a sensitivity toward. It would be easy if Mizu was just a lone samurai, someone wandering through life, a man, but she was none of those things and you were but a woman.

You’d been stalking your prey for a few miles, a serow that looked large enough for four meals between two people. Clad in your lightest clothes, you blended into the snowy environment and stepped slowly so as to not startle the creature. A moment of pause and a softly spoken prayer was all that was in between the serow’s short life and its quick death. Your emotions peaked as you released your arrow and the animal hit the ground, its breaths stuttering wetly as blood filled its chest. The pure white snow tainted red as you kneeled and slipped your knife from where it rested in its holster before promptly goring open the beast’s neck, killing it instantly.

You sat in the snow, waiting until the serow bled out enough for you to take it back, and began to think. You had very little, living in the woods alone, but it seemed to you so did Mizu. You were unsure if she even felt that way about other women as you had just discovered it was possible yourself. Mizu had incontestable skill, having claimed to have killed the Thousand-Claw Army single-handedly and suffered only a single serious injury. To you, she meant safety, security, and companionship, but what could you offer other than a home you were unsure she even wanted to come back to?

“Give me strength,” You called out to the universe and stood, bearing the weight of your future dinner on your back.

It was a difficult hike home but you were greeted by an up-and-about Mizu when you managed to open the door and throw down the serow.

“I made tea,” She announced, gesturing lamely to the steaming pot, uneasy at your sudden entrance.

You smiled and removed your scarf, brushing snow off of you and onto the floor in the process. “I can see that. Thank you.”

She nodded at your gratitude, her eyes not quite meeting your own. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to skin and carve this, then I can get started on dinner,” You moved to begin your task but Mizu stopped you.

“I can skin it. You rest.”

Your shoulders sagged with a relief you didn’t know you would feel and you smiled at her once again. You took your time undressing down to a single kimono and looked back to see Mizu butchering the pelt of your kill.

You gasped and Mizu stopped, startled as she looked up. “What?”

“Have you ever skinned an animal before?” You accused, taking three short strides over to her.

“Yes!” She defends. “Just nothing ever this large.”

You walk behind her and place your hand over hers. “Here, like this.”

Her hands are warmer than yours, but rougher, hardened by years of training and being on the road. She was slightly taller than you, forcing you to lean your head on the side of her arm in order to see what you were guiding her to do. You feigned intense focus while skinning the animal to combat the feeling that Mizu’s stolen and frequent glances gave you.

“Where is the man you live with?” She asked suddenly, causing you to stop your movements and remove yourself from behind her, too distracted in such close proximity.

Your heart clenched and you sighed. “Dead. My father got sick a month after the first snow.”

“My condolences.”

“I just realized you’re the first person I’ve spoken to since he died.” You laughed mournfully.

A dark look passed over Mizu’s face and she handed you the knife, gesturing for you to finish the skinning with your superior ability. “Let’s finish dinner.”

- ⚔ -

Your third meal together was nothing special, grilled meat and rice being all you had to get through the winter. The days were growing shorter and your energy with it, not to mention the strain healing took on Mizu and you as her unstudied nurse, left the both of you exhausted and ready to go to bed. Though your eyes drooped when you laid down, you couldn’t manage to find sleep, instead tossing and turning as Mizu slept soundlessly across from you.

A deep yawn tore itself from you and finally, you felt yourself relax into your slumber. Little by little your eyes closed and your breath slowed, as you were lulled by the crackle of the fire. This was until Mizu’s voice echoed throughout the room.

“I need you to know, I am on the path of revenge. There’s no place on it for friendship…or love.”

You were hazy with sleep but the admission hurt. “I understand.”

“I’m planning on leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

What else could you say?

The room retired to its previous silence but now you were fully awake and your heart pounded over what Mizu said truly meant to you. The little life you had constructed in your mind vanished into thin air, thoughts racing and consumed with every question you would never be able to ask her.

It was when you accepted you’d never see her again that you spoke. “I feel it's easier to talk in the dark so now I will ask: why do you dress as a man?”

Three seconds go by and Mizu fails to respond, making you assume she was either asleep or ignoring your question. When you’d all but given up hope she responded. “Because of my birth. And because it's difficult to be a woman in this world.”

“It is. After winter, I don’t know what I will do without my father. I have no chaperone to travel with and once spring comes and the roads become busy, I will have no assurance of my safety.” You curled in on yourself a bit tighter than before, your eyes welling up with tears.

“You have your bow and this house. That's more than many.” Her graveled voice sounded almost condescending and you were annoyed.

“More for a man, less for a woman.” You argued, turning to look at her.

Sensing your growing anger, you took a breath and opted not to continue the conversation instead looking angrily at the sword-wielding woman before screwing your eyes shut.

She cleared her throat and you opened your eyes once again, her pale eyes meeting yours before she spoke. “What happened to your mother?”

You sighed, decidedly finished with the conversation but Mizu didn't seem to catch on. “She died in childbirth.”

“You could always marry,” She suggested. “I was married once.”

Your brows set though the admission surprised you. “And now you’re dressed as a man in a pursuit for revenge,” Mizu gave you a look of defeat and you leveled with her. “I would be shackled to my husband and I have no desire for kids. I wish to live freely.”

Mizu’s eyes seemed to shine for a moment before she spoke. “You remind me of a princess I knew.”

- ⚔ -

Mizu had been antsy all day. Sewing up her clothes, checking and rechecking her wounds, stretching and eating her fill, all in preparation to leave you the next morning. You could assume she never stayed anywhere as long as she’d stayed in your home so you could understand why she felt that way though it didn’t help the growing pit in your stomach. You couldn’t wrap your head around it; you’d barely known her for three days and already you were, dare you say, truly sad she was leaving.

When seeing her pack became too much to bear, you used hunting as an excuse to leave, not bothering to go very far, but to a boulder you often frequented when you needed to sit in silence. The view was beautiful, overlooking a shallow valley that was currently coated in a layer of white, a calming sight while you attempted to reacclimate your mind to the reality of your solitude. Mizu was nothing more than a dream that you’d conjured up in order to live your fantasy life of freedom with. You should’ve known better.

When you got back to your house and walked in, Mizu looked you over and frowned. “Nothing today?”

You sighed, feigning defeat. “No, but I have more than enough for now,” Giving her a falsely nonchalant look you shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll need to go out again until after you leave.”

Silenced for a moment, Mizu just nodded and handed you a cup of tea. It seemed to have become a sort of ritual, her making you tea whenever you came back from a hunt. It was welcome and something you could get used to if the universe let you. Instead, you bowed your head in thanks and took a sip, pleasantly surprised to find it was made to your liking.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Mizu graced you with a small smile and your eyebrows shot up but you quickly turned to hide your quiet awe.

You moved over to your food storage and tried to come up with a meal that would be a worthy send-off of your limited time together but came up short. It would be meat and rice again though Mizu never showed any indication of being dissatisfied. Stubbornly, you rifled through your shelves and when your hand met glass and you realized it was a bottle of saké you smiled.

“Unfortunately it’ll be another meal of stew and rice but I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. Now seems as good as any.” You held up the bottle and Mizu looked dubious.

“I–I don’t drink,” She tried to deny you but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You placed a hand on your hip and cocked it, looking at her unamused. “I think as payment for my food and hospitality you owe me this favor.” She looked conflicted but with an expectant raise of your eyebrows, she gave in.

“I suppose one would be okay.”

Dinner was mediocre but drink after drink, you and Mizu became more comfortable with each other and much to your amazement, began sharing stories.

“So…who was your rival again?” You wondered, almost sure she had already told you.

“He’s not my rival,” She mocked, rolling her eyes. “He’s just a samurai who I defeated in battle and has been chasing me around demanding a rematch so he can regain his honor.” Mizu seemed exacerbated at the prospect and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why don’t you just fight him again?” You deadpanned. “I’m sure he’d leave you alone once he got what he wanted.”

“Because he wants to fight to the death, it would be him or me.” Mizu sobered up at that statement and swiftly downed another cup of saké.

“But…you defeated the Thousand-Claw Army alone,” You slowly put the pieces together and began to nod. “I understand.”

“He could be a good man, he just needs to let himself.”

That reminded you of a time in your childhood when your father was still young and strong, lending you wisdom that turned you into the woman you are today. Flashes of a house on the corner of a street, and a little girl with two missing teeth shot through your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“That reminds me of something my father used to say,” You smiled at the memory and continued. “When I was little and we still lived in Mihonoseki, I lost my two front teeth at the same time and this girl who lived near me kept making fun of me.”

“What does that have to do with your–” Mizu hiccupped, looking confused. “Your father?”

“If you’d let me finish! So…she kept making fun of me and I made a plan to mess with her and when my father found out he told me,” You deepened your voice, attempting to imitate the way your father spoke with utmost sternness. “‘Daughter, you may be the more honorable, you need only allow yourself to be.’”

There was a moment of pause before the two of you burst into laughter. Though Mizu’s was much quieter, you were endeared by the sound. Your grin felt as though it would split your face if it got any wider and Mizu looked at you flustered.

“I like your laugh.” You found yourself giggling and when you tried to scoot closer to Mizu, the room spun.

She caught you as you swayed but nearly toppled over herself in turn. You found yourself grasping onto Mizu and she onto you, alone in your home as a blizzard raged on outside. You stared brazenly into her eyes, at a color you didn’t think you’d ever become accustomed to.

“Mizu, I–” Your voice failed when you attempted to continue, a lump forming in your throat when her gaze traveled to your lips as you spoke.

You’d thought about it once already, stopping yourself before the thought could develop but now, when you were a little more than drunk on saké, you couldn’t help yourself. A single tick of time went by, eyes flashing from Mizu’s mouth to her eyes and back before you were pressing your lips to hers.

She inhaled sharply at the contact but you pressed on, opening your mouth to her and sliding a hand around her neck. Mizu tentatively slid her own around your waist and gave an almost experimental squeeze as she deepened the kiss, letting her tongue trace yours and forcing a moan from your throat.

When she heard the noise it was as if Mizu was spurred on, advancing on you in a way you didn't think a woman in her state was capable of. Your back was pressed into the ground as she hovered above you, a heated look on her now more delicate-looking features before she descended upon you again. Her mouth was soft in a way her grasp was not as she trailed kisses down your neck, a moan escaping her lips when she sucked on a particularly sensitive spot and you pulled at the hair on her nape, loosening her bun in the process. Your hand cupped her jaw as you brought her mouth back to your own and stole another kiss.

Reaching up, you tugged the remainder of her hair down, allowing it to cascade over you like an inky waterfall. Mizu smiled as you tucked a strand behind her ear and kissed her once more. It wasn’t until you both had your fill that your actions began to slow and you saw her lips red with desire and knew your own likely matched, not to mention the state of your neck. You lay together in front of the fire, your head on her unbound chest as she traced unconscious patterns into your shoulder where your kimono had slipped during your escapades.

You reveled in the heat of her and the tingles she left in the wake of her touch, though knew she’d be gone when you woke and decided to ask your next question on a whim of hope. “If you think of me, even once after you leave, come back to me when you’ve found your revenge.”

You felt Mizu’s head angle towards your ear as she whispered two words: “I will.”

In the realm between, past and present intertwined, where a restless soul confined, seeks justice unforeseen.

Part Ⅱ: Spring

Beneath the sapphire moon, shadows dance in shades of blue, where love once bloomed, now askew, a blue blade gleams, a fateful tune.

Spring had been bountiful for you, animals re-emerged from the frost and the warming temperatures made it easy to forage. With the changing seasons came a margin of sadness in the lack of a certain samurai’s return. The roads had picked up some traffic but all had just been harmless travelers, no bandits busting down your door to attack you which you were grateful for but never had you been so disappointed someone didn’t come knocking. With a sigh, you shook your head, having no reason to expect Mizu to come back, especially considering you had no actual details on where she was going or how long she’d be away.

You managed a few martens in the short time you’d been out and decided it was enough for a decent meal. With a soft huff, you slugged your bow over your shoulder and began the hike back home, your stomach rumbling at your lack of midday meal.

The walk was no more than thirty minutes, cherry blossoms swaying in the wind and the soft earth beneath your feet lended to the tranquil mood. Your house was looking a little worse for wear after the snow had melted: the roof needed to be repaired, and a loose step in the porch stairs somehow always managed to trip you when you went out. Skipping that board on the way up, you pushed open your door and were met with a familiar sight.

Striking blue met yours as you saw Mizu standing in the center of the room, a pot of tea and two cups resting on the table to the right of her. Before you could manage to speak, your body carried you to her, dropping everything you held in the process to take her in your arms.

A small oomph sounded from Mizu as you collided with her and her hand came up to rest on the back of your head, you having already buried it in her shoulder. The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, just reveling in the feeling of your togetherness before you pulled back, though only far enough to be able to meet her eyes. Her bangs were longer, covering her forehead and you noticed she was without her sword.

It was a silent conversation only shared between the flitting of your eyes but when Mizu’s settled her lips captured yours. You’d longed for the moment you’d once again be endowed with the plushness of her lips and at the contact tears welled up in your eyes. Your mouths danced together and one of Mizu’s hands went to cradle your face, the other holding you firmly to her as she took control of your mouth. Her touch burned, kiss after kiss marring your skin and ruining you for anyone else.

“How have you been?” She asked, her voice lighter than you remembered.

“I’ve been well,” You chuckled wetly. “And you?”

Her eyes closed momentarily and she stroked your cheek with her thumb. “Still walking the same path I have my entire life.”

This puzzled you, having not expected to see her until she’d completed her mission. “You didn’t get your revenge?” Your shoulders sagged when Mizu shook her head, and you gave her a soft peck on the lips in apology.

“I trust Ringo found you?” She looked genuinely curious and memories of a handless man coming to you with rice, beans, and a travel pass resurfaced.

“You sent him?” You smiled but were still confused. “Who is he?” The man had brought you gifts and cooked the best noodles you ever had in your life before leaving and claiming he would be back in a few month's time.

Mizu nodded, letting your face go but sliding her hand from across your back and sliding it into your own. “My apprentice. He accompanied me on my travels. Before I ventured into Edo, I gave him instructions to find you should I not return.”

“Not return? But–”

Mizu handed you the cup of forgotten tea, effectively cutting you off and you took an annoyed sip. “You’re the only person I had to see before I leave.”

The tea lodged in your throat at the admission, sending you into a coughing fit as you tried to clear the liquid from your lungs. “Leave? Leave where?”

A haunted look passed over her eyes, darkening them. “My path diverged in Edo. I chose the sea and tomorrow…I’m headed to London.”

“London?” All of a sudden you felt the same as you did that night all those months ago.

After some much-needed discussion, Mizu explained what she had set out to do and the vow she made to her mother when she was a child. You understood, how could you not? With every chop of your knife, dinner came together and you learned more about the woman you devoted so many sleepless nights to. Four white men, a quest for revenge, and a chance to gain it across the sea.

Mizu looked away from you when she spoke her next admission. “The shogun is dead. Edo burned.”

Your eyes shot up from your work and a sharp pain sliced through the backs of your fingers as you brought your knife down onto them. A hand reached out and Mizu was already tugging the white scarf from around her neck to wrap around your hand. She looked startled at the sight of your blood but you assumed she was used to it by now. She handled you delicately, enveloping your injury gently but snug enough that you trusted it would not come undone. Your attention was momentarily diverted before you processed what Miza had said, questions darting around your mind.

“The shogun is dead and Edo burned?”

“There was a coup, but I stopped the man in charge.” She seemed pleased by the outcome and you were in awe of the feat.

“And the city?”

Her expression dimmed and Mizu rubbed her eyes. “I started the fire…and it raged.”

A meal finally suitable for a goodbye–because that’s what this was–was ready in another fifteen minutes, most of which was filled with soft looks and stolen kisses, the pain and fear from hearing of Mizu’s narrow escape melting away with each one. You ate in companionable silence as they often came more naturally than conversation to the two of you.

- ⚔ -

Through the veil of time dire, the pale visage lingers on, a tale of love, now gone, in shadows of a haunted pyre.

Once the meal was finished and you’d both taken the time to clean up, Mizu took your hand and led you to your spot in front of the fireplace. She did little more than let you rest against her, savoring your touch as she nuzzled into your neck, dropping small kisses onto your skin. When you tried to touch or reciprocate Mizu tenderly denied the advances, letting all her focus stay rooted on you.

“I’ll be gone before you wake,” Mizu murmured as she caressed you.

You knew as much, having been told not an hour before but the reminder stung. “I know.”

She grabbed your face, turning it so you could do nothing but study her as she did you, your eyes locked on one another. Her expression shifted from a subtle longing to an unabashed look of want and seized your lips with an intensity that she had never allotted herself with you. Mizu licked into your mouth, tasting of the food you made and the tea she prepared, and dwelled on what it would be like if this was the rest of your life.

“Let me do this for you,” She rasped, her hot breath fanning over you. “Let’s make the most of tonight.”

Her fingers ghosted over your body until she reached the ties of your kimono and looked to you for permission. Understanding the silent question you nod, letting her undo the knots and reveal yourself to her. Mizu hovered over you, one arm supporting her weight and the other fondling your chest as she tasted your skin. Your arousal was almost uncontainable, your core throbbing at every touch, mewls and groans barely kept to yourself as the woman continued to shower you in affection.

“Mizu,” You couldn’t help but gasp when she slipped her hand between your legs and began to touch you.

Your composure slipped entirely when her fingers entered you and you clung to Mizu, nails scraping over her still-clothed body. You distantly knew you wanted to see more of her but failed to scrape together coherency as she thrust in and out of you, curling her fingers as she did so. Her thumb was massaging a toe-curling circle of pleasure and it was all too soon before you were reaching a peak. Breathy moans escaped you and Mizu swallowed them with hot kisses, noises of her own making their way to your ears as she took care of you.

Your loud cries echoed around the room as you came, clenching down on Mizu’s fingers though she rode you out until you were practically begging her to remove her hand. She smoothed her hand over your flushed face and whispered soothing words of praise as you returned to yourself.

“Beautiful,” She smiled, kissing each of your cheeks and then your lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” You tittered weakly. “I’m doing quite well.”

Mizu busied her hands by tying you back up and retrieving a blanket for the two of you to rest. “Good. I didn’t know if that was too much.” Her nervous tone was odd to you, given how easily she took control.

You gave her a peck to the cheek and took a breath to stare into her eyes that you’d grown to love. “It was perfect”

As you lay there, wrapped in Mizu’s arms and unsure of the future, you echoed to her a question you’d asked before.

“Will you come back to me?”

“I will.”

Yet, in the azure dawn, hope emerges, love reborn, fulfilling desires anew, as life unfolds, bright and true.

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thewordswewrite · 1 year

Text

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 11 - Rings Like Gold

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | A new development from Snow puts Finnick and his victor in a tough situation

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide

W/C | 3.2k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog

A/N | guys we’re just ruining these people’s livessss fr sorry not sorry-Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

As the party continued on into the night, the girl faithfully followed Sagan to the point of nearly cowering behind them as they descended further into the depths of the palace. Without Finnick by her side, she was vulnerable to the touches and offers of the partygoers, Sagan clueless to the fact that one might be made uncomfortable by this type of behavior; they meant well but ultimately, they were one of them.

She had seen the first glimpses of Finnick acting like himself when he had snuck away, finding something more important than her safety, than her to occupy his night. The idea of heading back home and never having to see him in more than a passing glance and mentor-related events was becoming more and more appealing. What had he really done for her anyway? She had been the one to impress the judges during training, to get in with the career pack and to fight her way out of that arena. Even with the unfortunate implications that had come from her interviews, she had clearly made an impression in the Capitol given she received a sponsor in her biggest time of need. If anything, Finnick’s presence in her life only made things far more complicated than they needed to be.

“Is the party almost over?” She asked Sagan as they pulled her along hand in hand, “Finnick’s gone and I just want to go home.”

“Over? Darling, it’s barely begun,” Sagan gasped. “You’re the star here. If you go now…well, I suppose it will continue on but at least stay for the fireworks!”

“Fireworks?”

“Exactly! You simply must see them.” As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was intrigued. At the very least, she had heard rumblings of the President’s speech and the grand presentation being imminent so it wouldn’t be an impossible task to wait a bit longer.

They were mingling for a little while longer when out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw a peacekeeper approach Sagan. She excused herself from the conversation she was in, in favor of finding a larger crowd to hide amongst. It was no use however, as her escort and the armed guard were by her side in minutes. When a leather gloved hand wrapped around her upper arm, she tried to escape the bruising grip but Sagan stepped in before she could start an altercation.

“It seems you’re a very lucky girl tonight. A private audience with President Snow awaits you!” Sagan said the words pointedly, knowing the girl well enough to urge her to calm herself before things escalated. “Go on now. I’ll be right here waiting to hear all about it!”

She eased in the guard’s grasp as he led her towards the other man from his post. With the two of them behind her, they corralled her up the grand staircase to the top floor. The dark wooded hallway loomed around her, seeming to go on for miles with different doors. The guards led her to one at the end of the hall, marked in its importance by a wide set of double doors. The two of them took their new position, one on each wall as she looked at them for some indication as to what she should do but their masked faces revealed nothing. She stepped up to the door and before she could reach out a hand to knock, it opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Finnick, what’s going on?”

Her eyes darted from Finnick’s wide blown ones to Snow’s narrow gaze.

“Ah, and here’s our victor now,” Snow announced with a gesture of presentation, the room eerily silent beyond those words. Finnick’s mouth was agape as he stared at her, failing to form any sound. His eyes glanced between her and the door as if he was thinking of making an escape. The President cleared his throat. “Please have a seat, my dear. I’ll formally extend my congratulations in a moment but first, Finnick has something he wanted to say. Don’t you, Finnick?”

She took the finely upholstered seat in front of the President’s desk, sitting awkwardly stiff. It was impossible not to feel as if she had walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to be a part of, the air in the room cold and tense. She was angled towards Finnick, eyes moving from the President to her mentor as he practically shook in his stance.

In a moment there was a burst of words from Finnick, rushing out of his mouth where there were none before, “You have to understand I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, there was nothing I could–”

The frantic quality of his expulsion and no doubt the volume caused the peacekeepers to step towards him, hands on their weapons but Snow must have anticipated the reaction for he stopped all three of the men with a tut.

“There’s no need for that, my boy,” The President sighed, turning to her to add, “He’s simply overexcited. Of course, Mr. Odair has taken a special interest in you and as a gift for him, I’ve approved your arrangements.” With the frigid air in the room, she was breaking into a cold sweat, a pit in her stomach growing larger by the minute.

“Arrangements?”

“Finnick, would you like to try that again?” Snow ‘asked’ though it was clear from the look on Finnick’s face that he had no choice. He pulled something out from behind his back that she couldn’t make out but if he wasn’t careful, his shaking hands would surely drop it. With his head pointed down towards the floor, he inched closer to her. His hand made to present the item in his possession to her but the President interrupted before she could catch a glimpse. “Now, now, be a gentleman and do it properly.”

Stinging hot tears sprang to her eyes as she watched Finnick get down on one knee, shaking her head before he revealed the piece of jewelry in his hand. In his palm sat a pearl ring, glittering stones around it forming the shape of a seashell. Finnick’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed, the lines of his frown mirroring the anguish that she too felt. Her vision was blurred by unfallen tears as she looked to Snow who nodded with a ‘go on’ gesture. There was no refusing, no running or fighting to be had; this was inevitable, it was this or death.

She nodded along in time with Snow, turning back to Finnick as silent tears traveled down her face. Grabbing her hand with his own, she flinched at Finnick’s touch briefly before relinquishing, allowing him to slide the ring onto her finger.

Finnick stood up, using her hand as leverage before she yanked her hand out of his. They turned to Snow expectantly, their next move unclear, the rest of their lives essentially up to the man in front of them. She felt the years slip through her fingers, her life already carved in stone. A cold dread traveled her entire body.

Snow cleared his throat and stood to attention, “I believe it’s time for my speech. Join me, would you?” She could feel Finnick’s gaze on her but she didn’t dare turn to him, resolving to deal with him later. If it weren’t for the President, for the armed guards, she might’ve thought it in her best interest to fight her way out. Though, her instinct for self preservation was dwindling by the minute.

The peacekeepers led the three of them out onto the balcony, her and Finnick flanking the President on either side. The room having been void of life had not prepared her for the thousands of eyes on her in an instant. Seeming to go on for miles, the estate stood in its entirety in front of them, the Capitols citizens cheering as a spotlight fell onto her and the two men. She attempted to shield her eyes from the light as Snow began to speak.

“Greetings, everyone,” The president’s voice boomed from next to her, echoing across the courtyard, “I know many of you have been anticipating the return of a fine young victor to our Capitol and tonight, I would like to formally introduce you to our very own Pearl, our 70th victor of the annual Hunger Games!” The crowd roared appropriately, a sound she had come accustomed to. Snow raised a single hand with a rehearsed grandeur and not an ounce of force, yet still the audience was immediately silenced.

“But it seems good fortune has fallen upon us. On this, the last day of her tour, I am most honored to announce the engagement of our newest victor to none other than our very own, Finnick Odair.”

No interview, speech or appearance had prepared her for the uproarious response of the Capitol citizens. People were cheering, hugging, crying. They had not cared so much for her safe return home, for her very life and yet they stood beneath her as though this was the greatest news they had ever heard: the end of her freedom.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Finnick smiling and waving as though they were truly some happy couple, as though he weren’t essentially her captor. The lights around her were blurring together as she became dizzy with anger. She imagined joylessly the reality in which she could tell the truth, cry out for help, the reality in which one of these people would notice even a piece of the corruption that their lives were built on.

An explosion of both sound and light painted the sky above sending her into a panic. She looked around wildly for the source until on her other side, the process repeated, this time a cerulean shadow cast itself over the crowd. Before she could understand what she was seeing, Snow was making his closing remarks and the peacekeepers were leading them back inside.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness and a hot putrid breath was on her ear, “We’ll be seeing each other soon, my dear. We’ve things yet to be discussed.” The doors were shut behind her without another word, leaving her alone with her fraudulent fiance. Finnick was already walking down the hall, not checking behind him to see if she would even follow but follow she did. When they made it to the stairs, he was running his hand through his hair, the other hand flailing as he spouted excuses.

“Listen, I’m going to get us–”

She didn’t take any time to listen, the object of her rage before her. With a strangled shout and all her strength, she shoved him. Despite her attempt to fully disarm him, she watched as he stumbled down about half the steps before regaining his composure.

“Hey! Listen to me-” She ignored him, stomping down the steps and trying to attack him again. She couldn’t think, her vision completely red and filled with the man who stole her future.

“This is all your fault!” She screamed, still shoving at his chest. In their struggle, they had unknowingly found themselves at the bottom of the stairs from which she could now hear onlookers whispering around them. She made to hit him still, unbothered by the crowd for she had nothing to lose but he stopped her, grabbing her forearms with bruising strength as she grappled against him.

“We can’t do this, not here,” Finnick hissed through his teeth for only her to hear. She was inconsolable, her only objective being to make him feel her pain. Though she held her own, he was undoubtedly stronger, years of training behind him and he stood, hoisting her up along the way. Her arms now free, she made for another strike but he had already snaked an arm around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder before she could make another move. She pounded his back with her fists but he did not relent.

As always, Finnick performed for his audience, leaving the room with a charming explanation and wink.

“She’s just so eager to get home and celebrate!”

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick was splayed across the cushioned bench of an unmoving train, contemplating the life he had not even months before and the life that was unfolding in front of him like some child’s picture book though rather than a fairytale, it was the kind of story parents used to scare their kids into good behavior. It wasn’t as though he had any big plans for himself–he always knew his life belonged to the President–but at the very least he had hoped for the comfort of routine, some semblance of peace. Now he was responsible for another person’s life, another person who could be used as leverage against him and if she had anyone in her life, that also traced back to him; it was wave after wave, distending until they would inevitably drown him.

On top of that, he knew the girl would not make any transition easy, having shown him exactly how she felt the night before when she had attacked him with a bloodlust he hadn’t even seen her break out in the arena. Still, he held out hope that she would come to understand that though unfair, this was the safest option for both of them. If he was being honest, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at being free from having to give up his body to strangers, to put on a mask that was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish from himself; he had spared her from that and surely that was something to be grateful for.

“Any word on your…fiancee’s arrival?” Sagan asked gingerly, sneaking glances at the window above him. They had been despondent since the party, he figured for feeling scorned having not heard about their ‘engagement’ before the rest of the Capitol. “The conductor is getting antsy.”

“She’s on the President’s time. She’ll be back when he sees fit,” Finnick sighed, an arm slung over his eyes. Peeking over his elbow, he could see Sagan scoff before stomping off, their heels only making a dramatic thud on the carpeted floor of the traincar. He wanted her back more than anyone, he wanted to get home more than anyone but of course, Snow came first.

The anticipation was killing him, worsened by the fact that he was not there to refute or explain away Snow’s words. Whatever the President was telling her, he was sure it painted him in a bad light and life would be easier for all of them if he could for once find himself in her good graces. He cursed the day they had laid eyes on eachother, wishing Mags had been there to guide her through, the distaste the girl likely still would have had for him only leaving him more determined for the next year.

The sun had nearly set when the doors to the main car slid open, Finnick’s heavy lidded eyes opening with a snap. He bolted upright, smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes as she stepped in. Once she laid slitted eyes on him, she purposefully made her way towards the next car but on unsteady legs he dashed after her, stopping her with an arm wrapped around her middle.

“We can’t not talk about this,” He grunted, “It’s not just going to go away if we ignore it.” She slipped out of his relaxed grasp with ease but he had already whirled around, putting himself between her and the doors.

“Get the fuck away from me,” She seethed. He swallowed the anger that she so specially drew out from him, shaking his head with a deep breath.

“What did he say? If I could just explain–”

“Oh, he explained everything. You’re disgusting,” She hissed lowly, regarding him as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence. He reeled back as though she had hit him and Finnick considered that he might have preferred that to such blatant contempt. Couldn't she understand that it wasn’t his choice?

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Finnick felt a deep shame well within him. Maybe in another life he would still sleep around but it wasn’t that part, the promiscuity, that bothered him, it was the lack of control over his own body that made him feel ill, feel disgusting. He had never uttered to another person the truth of his situation, the sale of him as a commodity by their own President, their valiant leader. This was just another thing that Snow had taken from him: the ownership of his own truth.

“Snow went on about how he ‘owed you for your…loyalty.’” Her face was twisted in genuine disdain. The implications of what his loyalty entailed made his face flush in humiliation. A long silence fell between them as he tried to regain his composure. It was broken, however, when a gasp rang out from the other side of the room.

“There you are!” Sagan gushed, rushing over to the pair. “Well, now that the two of you are here let me just say congratulations! Snow’s announcement last night was quite…sudden. I certainly never would have expected it.” A smile was plastered on their face so widely it looked as though it might crack. At that, his girl groaned and used the distraction to slip away. Finnick shot Sagan a ‘what can you do’ kind of grin and followed after her.

“Hey,” Finnick called after her, taking quick strides to follow her through the cars. He managed to grab her upper arm and her attention with a firm, “Hey.”

She whipped her head back to look at him, her jaw clenched. He took a quick scan of the surroundings and pulled her into a spare bedroom, shutting the door after them.

“Listen,” Finnick began, “I’m sorry, okay? But this–” he gestured vaguely between them, unwilling to put it to words, “this is the reality now. I would take this all back if I could but if he really told you everything, then you know this is for the best.”

“What do you know-”

“Enough. I am speaking now.” She didn’t cower in front of him, nothing even close, but she dignified him with her silence, her head tipped back. “Snow doesn’t take things like this lightly. If we don’t play along–and we’re going to play along–he won’t hesitate to get rid of us the same way he gets rid of everyone but he’ll break you down first, make you wish for it. He’ll start with the ones you love.”

She laughed cruelly, “I don’t have anyone that I love.”

“Well, I do,” Finnick bit back, “So whatever Snow’s idea of a happy couple is, that’s what we’re going to be. End of story.” Her bottom lip trembled but she kept that sardonic grin that made his blood boil.

“You’re a sick man, Finnick Odair,” She scorned.

“Maybe so,” He offered with a grin that mirrored her venom, “but we’re in the real games now and I won’t lose.”

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