Chapter Text
“Long ago in a small village, there lived an onryō who controlled the minds of the people. They used their dark powers to control the humans. Rule over them as a kami. The human’s fear gave them skills to defeat even the greatest swordsman.”
…
Mizu had challenged and defeated every trained samurai in the Shindo Dojo. Now they stood in the concourse of the dojo.
Taigen pointed his sword in Mizu’s direction, “Are you afraid to fight with steel?”
“Thank you,” Mizu replied, “No one has yet deserved my blade.”
When she unsheathed it, the ridiculous samurai called the blade Master’s Eiji’s. An honorable mistake in Mizu’s mind. She thanked her swordfather and defeated Taigen through humiliation.
…
“…giving them the strength to take down the most ruthless assassins.”
…
“I don’t know you, and we have no dispute.” Mizu warned them,
The Four Fangs, Mizu would later learn who they were. She cut through them on the cliffside. In familiar turf. And in the end, only the “unnamed samurai” was left standing. Pulling her sword out of the final dishonorable man.
“Goodbye, Blood-soaked Chiaki.” Mizu spat out.
…
“…granting them power to take down armies.”
….
Still having those strange therapeutic images in her head, Mizu dreaming of a beautiful life with Akemi, it gave the samurai something to keep her grounded. A wife worth fighting for.
“Ah!” Mizu grabbed her weights one by one and attached them to the bottom of her sword. Creating a naginata.
The very first weapon she used when giving in to the dark completely. Morals tossed aside just as her husband tossed Mizu aside. With only a handful of men left from the thousand claw army, it took the heat off the samurai.
‘A bit old-fashioned, but a great weapon to use when outnumbered.’
The few were cowards and ran off. Mizu kicked down lord Hamata’s door and dragged him out like the sleazy dog he was, throwing him at Madam Kaji’s feet. “For Kinuyo.”
….
“…becoming a shadow on the wall to destroy Japan’s greatest villain.”
…
…
The heat of swordfather’s forge woke Mizu.
Even with her eyes closed the samurai knew exactly where she was. The crackling of fire, the shrill singing of metal, and the smell of wet wood on hot stone were all like a mother’s embrace. Familiar and comforting.
Mizu slowly rolled onto her back, staring up at the old forge’s support beam. The same one she jumped off to practice the Kojirō Ryu. Swordfather wasn’t so pleased with that one. But why was she here? She was in Fowler’s castle, she had him… the castle fell apart underneath Mizu’s feet. She was drugged, bleeding, tired—she jumped into the water to save Akemi.
Why was Akemi there?
The samurai felt herself drooling,
Was Akemi really there?
Mizu snapped awake. Akemi! she tried to call out but her throat felt swollen. With a pained grunt, Mizu slowly sat up. Her bones felt like lead, and her skin pulled from new wounds. “Ah.” Mizu held onto her shoulder, already regretting the movement.
“Hm, someone is awake,” Master Eiji’s voice instilled a natural peace.
Mizu looked over her shoulder and winced when she saw Akemi glaring at her. Eyes swollen with tears. Her wife was a mess. Kimono was still torn with blood all over it. Mizu’s and whoever else Akemi may have killed. If she killed anyone to get Mizu out of the castle.
Akemi silently placed her teacup on the small table and got up. “Thank you for the company, swordfather. I’ll let Ringo know Mizu’s alive.”
Mizu could only watch Akemi leave the forge, still too weak to stop her. She swallowed a wave of guilt and didn't understand where it came from. Akemi knew Mizu’s revenge would not stop until Fowler was split open by her sword.
“Thanks to your wife and apprentice, you did not die.” Master Eiji was still sipping his tea, “Your soul is stubborn, Mizu.” He mumbled before getting up to leave. “Is it worth it?”
Mizu’s body was still too worn down to even attempt to get up.
“Master?” Ringo opened the door and peeked inside. His face lit up when he saw Mizu sitting. “Master, you’re alive!”
Mizu attempted to smile, but ended up moaning in pain. “Ringo.”
Her loyal apprentice sat down beside her and poured her a bowl of soup. “Here. For the infection. Akemi helped me cook it. She was very worried. We were all very worried.” Ringo held the bowl to Mizu’s lips. “We walked for days, master. Bad men followed us until Akemi took care of them. You know. Bleh, ” he acted out a man dying. “Maybe you two are perfect for each other.”
Mizu drank enough of the horrible medicine. “Did she follow me to Fowler’s castle?”
“We both did.” Ringo placed the empty bowl on the table next to Akemi’s teacup. “She woke up angry and sad that you were gone.”
Mizu understood.
First night of… making love. Being husband and wife, Mizu was gone before the sun. “Thank you for not leaving Akemi alone.”
Ringo smiled sadly. “She’d never leave me alone either, master.”
Mizu slept in the forge.
She thought of it as a punishment for leaving Akemi, but—it was once her home so…
Mizu found Akemi by the river scrubbing her dirty clothes. Her aggressive motions would surely make the garment completely new. The small shaking of her wife’s shoulders urged Mizu to keep approaching Akemi.
“Stubborn—,” Mizu could barely make out what Akemi was angrily mumbling. “...a fool!—arrogant… left me… again!”
Mizu knelt on the grass behind Akemi. Behind her crying wife. And, with great effort and through pain, Mizu hugged Akemi. Resting her chin on a shaking shoulder. Silent shakes as Akemi wept.
“I’m so angry with you, Mizu.” Akemi kept scrubbing her clothes. “I hate this path you’re on! This sickness of revenge is eating you alive and you allow it. One day… even after you’ve killed every white devil, will there even be a piece of your soul left for me? Or will I lose all of you to this darkness?”
Mizu tightened their hold. “Akemi, I thought you understood that I—”
“Understanding is not acceptance, husband,” Akemi snapped. Still not shaking off Mizu’s arms around her, she leaned back. “You could’ve waited.”
“For what?”
“Until morning would’ve been nice.” Akemi sniffled and resumed her scrubbing. “I had all these… fantasies of how our first time would be. I would make you breakfast, you would watch me paint. We would share poems with each other—anything! Did that night mean so little to you?”
Mizu kissed her wife’s shoulder. “It meant everything to me.”
“You have a horrible way of showing it.”
“I—” Mizu slowly inhaled, thinking carefully on her next words. “That night meant everything to me, Akemi. You gave me the courage to love you, you renewed my understanding in intimacy and love making, and you gave me the strength to be vulnerable.” Mizu’s voice wavered just so. “What you gave me that night allowed me to heal my sword spirit and face Fowler.”
Akemi let out a displeased sigh. “It would’ve been nice to hear all of those things. Instead I… I woke up to an empty bed.”
Mizu pressed her forehead against Akemi’s shoulder. “I left you a note.”
“Should’ve stayed and told me yourself.” Akemi shook her head. “We could’ve done it that morning many times if I gave you such strength to carry on your quest. Imagine if we lay with each other for hours that morning.”
Mizu smiled, then grimaced in pain. “I’m… I’m sorry. Forgive me, wife, for not staying, for not being a good husband. I’m trying to learn.”
“You’re a good husband,” Akemi whispered. “But I know you can be a great one.”
Mizu rested her chin on Akemi’s shoulder to watch her task. The samurai waited a moment before bringing up. “My sword is broken. My quest may be tarnished. Are you happy?”
“No,” Akemi answered honestly. “The sword is a part of you. And if any part of you is broken, then so is my heart.” She looked over her shoulder to gauge her husband’s expression. “Can you fix it?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you have time. Fowler isn’t going anywhere.”
“Actually,” Mizu’s jaw tightened, “...he is.”
Mizu was kneeling next to her swordfather. “I’m sorry for being a burden to you, swordfather.”
It seemed like today was the day of apologies for Mizu.
Master Eiji hummed, “You still have a place here, Mizu. The burden you speak of was always yours to bear.”
Mizu stared into the fire, hoping to find more answers. “I always thought I needed my revenge to find a place. That I didn’t belong anywhere until my quest was complete. Maybe Akemi was right, revenge is my sickness, and to cure it, I need my sword.” The samurai’s desperation was eating her alive.
Master Eiji grabbed his tongs and struck each of the broken pieces, listening. “Hm.”
“Can you fit them back together?”
“No. Broken is broken.”
“Then it must be remelted and reforged.”
Master Eiji heard the ringing. “Your sword broke because the blend was wrong.”
“It was perfect, ” Mizu defended.
“It was too pure.” Master Eiji struck that last piece again. “Your metal wants to be blended with new steel.”
“Do you have steel for me?”
“No.”
Mizu was surprised by her swordfather’s answer. “I don’t have the materials to make my own. Or perhaps a demon cannot make steel.” She stared at her broken sword.
“Is that so?”
“The world sees me and sees a hateful monster. An onryō.”
Master Eiji sighed loudly. “I did not assume your wife sees you as a demon.”
“She did once.” Mizu smiled.
“But I did not train you to be a demon, or a human.”
Mizu looked over at Master Eiji.
“I showed you how to be an artist .” He went on to explain how his everyday life was a practiced art he put into his swords. Sutras, food, strength. Everything was an art.
“Revenge is an art?”
“It is all the same to an artist.”
Even sex? The samurai thought of her wife, Akemi, leaving so quickly after their—beautifully crafted night.
Mizu felt her shoulder’s drop. “Then I’m a bad artist.” She winced when Master Eiji struck her head with his tongs.
“An artist gives all they have to the art, the whole.”
“To be an artist is to be one thing,”
Mizu wheeled out the necessary tools and made the trip up the hill and behind her house.
“Your strengths and deficiencies,”
She began shoveling the ground and creating a space for her own forge. She grabbed the molded clay and placed them around her hole. Piece by piece, Mizu prepared herself a ceremony to create the perfect steel.
“...your loves and shames.”
Mizu knocked on the front door. “Akemi?”
“Perhaps the people you collected?”
Her wife was waiting for Mizu, already rising to a stand. “What do you need, Mizu?” Anger forgotten, or pushed aside for her husband.
Mizu stepped inside and looked around the house. “I hear you’re a great artist and Japan’s most inspiring poet.” She looked down at her hands. “Do you know the sacred sutras?”
Akemi frowned. “What is this for?”
Mizu reached up and let her hair loose. “I need help making the perfect steel.”
Mizu worked hard earlier setting up the forge, so all Akemi had to do was provide the ink and brush.
The former princess followed her samurai towards the makeshift forge. She didn’t know why Mizu worked so hard when they already Master Eiji’s forge. It wasn’t until Mizu began removing their clothes that Akemi understood.
Her husband sat on the cold grass and prepared the ink, “Recite it for me,” Mizu looked up at her wife, “Please.”
Akemi sat next to her. And prepared to recite the most sacred sutras. “Earth is our adorned, six ways and the fourfold assembly. The temples, his eyes, the light, his purpose.”
It was nearing dusk when they began and darkness hid them as Mizu’s body was nearly covered in sutras. In… art. Akemi was crying—content tears for being included in such a vulnerable and spiritually awakening event in Mizu’s life. When Akemi was given the brush she tenderly cradled Mizu’s face while scripting and reciting.
The way Mizu watched her with all the faith in the world.
“The pleasures of giving: gifts, life, jewels, diamonds, joy… love,” Akemi kissed her husband, “...death. The merits are praised by the mind.”
They stood near the forge while Akemi finished the final sutra on Mizu’s back. Her husband, completely naked of everything. Wraps, clothes, worries, and fear—entrusted Akemi to be a fellow cornerstone in her new steel.
Mizu spoke the final sutra, “The body is emptiness, and emptiness body. All things are only empty. Nothing is born, nothing broken.”
Once finished, Mizu felt ready.
Akemi was standing off to the side as Mizu prepared the heat. Getting to rise and steady. She fed the flames then dropped her broken inside. Ringo’s bell, Akemi’s shurikens, and one of Master Eiji’s tongs. It would have to sit and slowly melt.
The samurai looked over her shoulder and held out her hand, beckoning her wife closer.
Akemi obeyed. She wasn’t if she was allowed to touch her husband, but the way Mizu immediately pulled Akemi into a deep kiss, discarded all uncertainty. “Mizu,”
The samurai held Akemi flushed against their body, “Recite more to me. I want to hear more.” Mizu kissed down her wife’s neck. “I need to hear you.”
Akemi’s mind flew towards the heavens as Mizu seemed to worship her. “The–the knowledge of attachment, the body is—is pleasures,”
Mizu pulled Akemi into a newer kiss. Slower, more passionate. Pouring their love, devotion, and apologies into the connection. They kissed next to the makeshift forge. Akemi was careful not to touch the ink, not wanting to smear the sacred sutras, but Mizu didn’t seem to mind. The samurai reached for Akemi’s kimono, untying it and pushing it off her wife’s shoulders.
Mizu dropped to her knees, pressed her face against Akemi’s stomach, “Mine,” she whimpered.
If that wasn’t the most erotic and romantic phrase Akemi has ever heard. Akemi’s eyes watered from the sheer pleasure of her husband’s tongue on her. Mizu’s lips kissing her, making out with the most intimate part of her.
“Mizu!”
Akemi’s mind was so far from here she hadn’t realized Mizu laid them on the grass. It was cold on her back, but the heat of the forge made everything perfect. Her samurai hovered over Akemi, kneeling between her legs before pressing closer.
Akemi couldn’t stop her whorish moans. “Mizu! You feel so—Ah! I’m sorry I can’t help it. You feel too good against me!”
“I know.” Mizu straddled one of Akemi’s legs, and began moving their hips. “Akemi,” she whispered through her own pleasure. “Oh my god,”
No wraps, no foreign attachments to connect them, Akemi was grasping onto Mizu with desperation. As though letting go meant falling out of love. Akemi didn’t want to give this up. Not when she finally had all of her husband. All of Mizu.
The samurai lifted Akemi’s leg, shifting closer until their cunts pressed sacredly against each other.
Akemi had an entire bodily reaction, “Oh—Mizu!” She shook as though an earthquake trembled through every fiber of her being. Her throat tightened as every nerve in her body screamed in pleasure. “Don’t stop touching me like this!”
Akemi was watching Mizu be equally affected by this new closeness.
“Akemi— unngh!”
The most pleasurable sensation. Mizu rotated her hips, pressing even closer if possible. Then began rocking in a smooth motion, rubbing their cunts together, creating an art piece of their own.
The way Akemi’s hair framed almost her entire body with black silk, like a demon gripping onto this weak human, creating the most dangerous offspring between the two of them.
“Mizu,” Akemi gasped.
The way Mizu was just looking at her felt unreal. Felt inspired and full of love.
Her samurai leaned down and kissed her soundly.
Akemi put her all into the kiss until her own inner forge couldn’t keep in her heat. “Mizu,” she felt herself whisper in her husband’s mouth while her body reached nirvana.
Mizu squeezed her eyes shut, quickly following.
Akemi was resting in the grass, covered with her own kimono while Mizu broke the furnace, releasing the heat. She waved her hand and coughed, hoping to see her new steel.
She was ready to face Fowler.
…
…
“This onryō inspired fear in the white devil. And the demon showed no fear… until they did.”
…
Akemi and Ringo followed Mizu to Edo.
Assuming her family was in danger, the wife of the world’s greatest samurai wasn’t as stealthy, but enough for her husband to not be aware of her presence. Though she was now slightly better with the sword. Enough to remove a few of the gun wielding men from Fowler’s army. But there were too many of them.
Mizu was crouched on the roof studying the shogunate's home.
Trying to figure out where the council of elders will be meeting. She gripped her new sword, her kami sword, as Master Eiji remarked. It held pieces of her soul as well as her wife’s and that was enough to give Mizu renewed strength.
But Mizu’s wife was here.
Trying to “help” her traitor father, and a childhood friend. An advisor, Seki. Mizu cut down the pathetic guards and glared at Akemi. “What are you doing here?!”
“Saving my family,” Akemi tightened her hold on Seki’s hand. “All of you.”
The arrogant samurai included.
Mizu noticed, “Your father is a traitor to Edo, does Seki know that?” Not that it mattered at all to the samurai, but she hoped it would incite anger in Akemi to just leave all them behind.
“I do, Lord Mizu.” Seki admitted, “...but it was not my place nor my time for impertinence.”
Mizu sheaths her kami blade, “It is for me. Take her home, Seki.”
Akemi glared, “He doesn’t take orders from you.”
…
“Fear for a control out of their reach when they needed it most.”
…
Mizu hated being so close to Fowler, yet feeling pulled away.
She sliced through his weapon with ease, saving the shogunate. Keeping her split attention on Akemi and Fowler. The soldiers were just men with guns in their hands. Like they’ve never truly seen war. Seen death so close.
“Get them out of here!” Mizu yelled at Akemi, now having eyes only on Fowler. “I need you safe!”
“I’m holding them off for you!” Akemi was. She pulled her blade out one man’s throat and threw a shuriken in the next. “And I need you alive!”
Between the two of them, it was a gruesome dance of blood and death. But Fowler was a coward, reloading his gun and aimed it at Mizu. Ringo’s hammer saved the samurai.
But Mizu’s scowl only deepened, “Take Akemi and get out of here!” She yelled before chasing after the white devil.
Though perhaps Fowler’s skill was truly in his blade.
If he was not Mizu’s demon sire, then surely he trained with the white devil who was. His skill, although rugged and unkept, was nearly flawless. A ruthless ryu form. Ronin, without morals or honor. An opponent worthy of Mizu’s new steel.
“Ahh!” Mizu was on the offense, pushing the large man backwards. Cornering him into a possible surrender.
But Fowler was a bull of a man, using everything as a weapon. His sword, his feet, and and his fists as he roughly backhanded Mizu. Sending the samurai to the ground.
Mizu’s head was ringing.
And maybe the heavens opened up and the samurai was dead. But Akemi leaned over Mizu, glaring down at them. “Are you done messing around now?”
Mizu offered a crooked smile and got up.
Akemi was holding two nasty looking knives. Mizu knew what to do.
Fowler held his sword up defensively. Pointing it between the two of them. “You both just keep happening.”
Akemi threw one knife that Fowler quickly deflected, but it was enough time for Mizu to make her move. Swing her blade and destroy this man. But his size betrayed his agility, swinging down hard on Mizu, forcing her to her knees.
“Ah!” Mizu grunted when she felt the sharp end of the blade slice her arm, she jerked to the side and slammed the sword in Fowler’s foot.
“Ahhh!” he screamed out. He stumbled towards the door.
Towards Akemi.
Her wife stood her ground, raising her short knife in defense.
Mizu may have been too slow. But she was already running, her kami steel raised for the killing blow.
Akemi was like an angry cat, more hiss and all bite, but nothing truly lethal. At least, not deadly enough. She was able to stab Fowler in the arm, but whatever adrenaline the man got kept him going. Slapping the knife out of Akemi’s hands. Maybe even cutting her hand.
Akemi yelled in pain, “Ah, Mizu!”
Fowler grabbed Akemi by the throat and swung her around, right in front of Mizu’s swinging blade.
Every muscle in Mizu’s body tightened as she stopped mid-swing. Her eyes were wide with fear.
Fowler knew, smiling insidiously. “Checkmate.” He snarled with a lightness to his voice.
Akemi was worried. Her body flinched, and the emotion in her eyes instantly drained. “Mizu,” Blood poured from the corner of her mouth, “Mizu?”
Fowler let go, letting her body drop to the floor.
Mizu caught her. She wanted to be angry. The “I told you so’s” were at the tip of her tongue, but all Mizu could muster was. “Don’t leave me.”
Akemi was already pale. “Mizu,” she repeated.
Mizu roughly grabbed her chin, jolting her awake. “No, no! You’re staying with me.” She pressed against the wound. “This isn’t your fight. Why couldn’t you just stay home?”
“You are my home, Mizu.”
Mizu was also bleeding out and nearly crying, “You can’t keep chasing the devil with me. You’re playing with fire, Akemi.”
“I want to be burned.” Akemi lifted a weak and bloody hand, cupping her husband’s cheek. “As long as I burn with you.”
Mizu held her close, “It won’t be today.”
Akemi’s eyes were falling closed, “Then take me home… husband.”
Mizu did take Akemi home. After she learned the new word, London, then decapitated the snake of a man.
…
“That was the awakening hour for the onryō. Nothing comes from revenge but death.”
…
In the small village of Kohama, a swordmaster and their apprentice awoke with the sun.
The master ignited the forge and placed their hands over the fire, testing the heat. “It’s a cold morning. It’d be nice if someone made tea.”
Their apprentice was quick to obey, rushing to the small stove to put on a kettle of tea. When the young apprentice returned to their master with a cup of tea, they appeared hopeful, “Will you continue your story, master?”
The master accepted the tea and raised their brow in question, “Story?”
“About the onryō, master.”
The swordmaster’s bright pale eyes smiled with mirth. They looked towards the forge. “It’s only a legend. A legend of the Ronin and their Pearl, as they call it.” The swordmaster sipped their tea. “Where did I leave off?”
Their apprentice appeared hopeful, “The onryō saved the princess from the white devil.”
The swordmaster slowed their movements, “There wasn’t much else to say,”
“Did they live? What happened to them?” The young child was too eager.
The swordmaster grabbed the appropriate pieces of wood. “Start the fire. You’ll take up the hammer today. And the yaki-ire. Then I’ll tell you what happened to them.”
“The yaki-ire is when metal is reborn, and the soul enters the sword. All must be pure for the sword to be pure. The metal, the maker, and the one to wield it.”
…
Mizu performed this countless times.
The first was with Master Eiji, the last was making love to her wife while her new steel was reborn. Creating the kami sword. A child of both Akemi and the samurai.
Mizu began pumping the box bellow. It was old, needing to be reshaped and redesigned. But it was a piece of Master Eiji, so it stays. The child knelt next to her, waiting to be instructed. They had more focus than Mizu did at their age.
“Is your mind clear?” Mizu asked the boy.
“Yes.”
“Is your soul at rest?”
“It is.”
Mizu placed her hand on the child’s shoulder, guiding them towards the bellow handle. He took it without argument and kept the fire alive at a certain temperature.
“When the summer sun touches the horizon, you’ll know it's ready.”
“Yes, master.” His bright blue eyes only spared Mizu a quick glance before returning to his task.
Mizu opened the door of the forge and quickly exhaled, needing the fresh air. Although she was met with the smell of horse shit. “Ugh, did Akemi leave them loose again?”
The woman in question was plucking vegetables from the gardens with Ringo. Akemi felt Mizu’s gaze and quickly turned around.
Mizu’s mind was finally clear.
They quickly approached Akemi. The small pearl in this ugly world.
Ringo noticed and waved, “Hey, master! How’s your son?”
Mizu refrained from an eye roll, “He’s… not my son.”
Akemi met Mizu halfway and pulled them into a loving kiss. “My handsome samurai.” she breathed out.
Mizu’s soul finally felt at peace. “My beautiful princess.”
…
“Not much more could be said about the onryō and their pearl, but legends say whenever someone swings their blade, it calls upon the spirit of the great blue eye samurai.”
…
The End.