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Chapter Text

Sounds of blacksmithing filled the eerie calm of swordfather Eiji's forge. The embers spilled with every hit on the red hot metal, each blow bringing the mineral closer to its final form. The warmth of the forge fire provided a certain sense of comfort that could only be found here. 

Yura huddled closer into her thin sheets, the fabric not doing much to hold back the cold. She'd grown deaf to the continuous pounding of the metal ore, her blind grandfather had his schedule for his smithing. The cozy atmosphere didn't do much in snuffing her doubts. 

The snow and cold outside reminded Yura of two things. The day she ran from her village to seek out her grandfather,

And the day Mizu left. Today marked it being a whole year. 

That night, in the peak of winter, Mizu informed swordfather Eiji of his departure. Yura remembered waking up to the sharp clang of the sword hitting the ground, followed by nothing but silence. He'd turned that impossible ore into a sword. But after that Mizu would just…leave. Not even bothering to speak to her one last time, or even spare her a final glance. 

That made Yura feel butthurt.

The emptiness in her being was something she couldn't explain herself. Mizu and her were…friends, if she could even say it. The boy would always be awkward around her, refusing most of her attempts at starting a conversation. This led to them not talking much, but Yura thought it wasn't that bad to have another kid who was age.

She always found the boy so mysterious. He'd rarely talk about trivial things, didn't go anywhere except the forge and the river and would either practice with a wooden sword or learn blacksmithing with her grandfather: swordfather Eiji. But there was one thing that stood out about Mizu; his eyes. They were blue. 

Yura shut her eyes as she recalled how he wouldn't even face her the first few weeks when she first came to Kohama. It wasn't until she saw Mizu's reflection in the water that she understood the reason why. 

“Is that why you didn't show me your face? Because of your eyes?”  

she could almost hear herself asking the question. Mizu would look up at her, his eyes shutting and body almost recoiling like he was expecting Yura to say something horrible or throw a rock at him. 

“They're…not that bad” 

Yura continued hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't feel so uncomfortable. Mizu's body eased slightly, his stiff shoulders drooping as a sign. 

“Mn.” 

Was all he'd give her in reply. A small hum. That was the most she'd gotten from him in all those weeks of no communication. 

Yura opened her eyes, greeted by the flickering flames of the hearth and the hiss of hot steel meeting cold water. Sleep refused to take her yet another night, preventing her from getting that blissful escape. It's been happening for a while now, her thoughts wandering to Mizu for no reason. 

“Grandfather, what did he tell you that night?” 

Her voice broke the tranquility, as she sat up on the makeshift futon. Eiji halted his work, hands dropping the hammer and tongs as his head turned to face his granddaughter. 

“This question again?” 

“Why can't you just tell me?” 

Eiji stiffened, he knew that Yura deserved to know, but what he truly was scared of was his granddaughter leaving. Mizu was a man. He had a good sword and the required skills to use it. But Yura? She wouldn't last a day outside Kohama. Women weren't allowed to travel without escorts and if she took any impulsive decisions…he didn't want to imagine the consequences. 

“Why are you suddenly so interested? The last time you asked was a year ago, when he left.” 

Yura frowned a bit, she wasn't so sure either. Why was she so curious? Was it the sudden disappearance that left her with no closure? Or was it because she's had enough of just staying in the forge, staying in Kohama?

“I'm not sure, grandfather. But I want to know.” 

She hated this feeling of missing something, missing Mizu. Even if not many words were exchanged between them, actions were. As far as Yura knew he was awkward, a bit hesitant with her. But he was also determined and stubborn about mastering the sword.

Eiji only sighed in response. 

“Don't you know where he is? Did he just tell you he'll leave and never come back?” 

“Something like that.” 

Yura huffed quietly at her grandfather's words, the sheets bundling within her clenched fists.

“I don't know where he is. Mizu simply told me he's on a quest for revenge. He's a stupid man doing stupid things that will just get him killed.” 

Yura froze. A quest for revenge? She always assumed it was to become a samurai and to get out of this small fishing village, but it was for revenge all along. “Revenge for what?” 

Eiji knew there was no use hiding the facts from Yura anymore, so he told her what he knew.

“To avenge his mother. To kill the four men who were the cause of his birth.” 

“So he's just going in the search of those white men to kill them? No one has seen a white face in ages!” 

This is stupid. Yura thought, Does he even know where to search? Where to go? Is he still alive?

“He's– maybe he's already dead!” 

Eiji didn't give any comments about that, but Yura continued 

“Shouldn't we search for him? Mizu is family, in a way. We can't be bothered when he's gone for a whole year!” 

Yura felt her frustration rise as she stood up and walked to the forge where her grandfather was seated. “Grandfather, say something, please!” 

“There's nothing more to say. If he's out for revenge then he will have it or he will die trying. Mizu is stubborn.”

“You've taken care of him since he was young, you've seen him more than you've seen me,” Yura steeled herself for the next words she uttered. 

“Don't you care for him?” 

Eiji's tongs hit the ground with a sharp clang, the sound slicing the quiet of the night, the crickets stopped their chirping for a moment before resuming.

“Just because I'm not doing anything doesn't mean I don't care, Yura.”

“Then I'll go—”

“No.” The answer was immediate. “You're not a man, you're not going to live that long on your own in this winter, unprotected.”

Yura clenched her fists on her sides, ready to snap out another argument but she paused. Taking in a deep breath. She slowly lowered to her knees, shifting her legs as she sat down near her grandfather, taking the blind man's battered and calloused hand in her own. 

“Grandfather, I don't know why I suddenly want to find Mizu. But, I think I'll only grow more restless if I ignore this.” 

She looked at him earnestly, eyes full of determination and a need to get rid of this abruptly risen worry, even if Eiji could see none of it.

Yura gave the old sword maker's hands a convincing squeeze, trying to coax a response out of him. 

“Do you hear yourself?” Eiji hissed, his already shut eyes scrunched in disapproval. “It's the middle of winter, you have no idea where Mizu could be, we don't even have a city pass, and you want to travel alone to search for him?” 

She couldn't disagree with all of that. Her grandfather was right in every sense. But this feeling, this void in her chest just kept clawing at her insides. For now, she just gave a simple nod. 

“Alright, I won't think about it anymore. Let's just…forget about this.” 

She patted Eiji's hands as she stood up and let go, the warmth of the forge fire receding as she moved back to the makeshift futon, carefully lying down on it again. Yura could hear the old man sigh to himself as the sound of metal scraping whetstone slowly faded into background noise as she felt sleep pulling her mind. 

Clang Clang Clang

Hiss

The sound of smithing and cooling of the metal roused Yura. It was morning already, but it seemed like a mere few minutes passed after she fell asleep. She sat up, greeted by the sight of her grandfather at the forge yet again. It sometimes made her wonder if he really slept at night or if he just slept late and rose early. 

She quietly stood up, rolling the makeshift futon away before tying the obi around her waist. With the help of a ribbon, she tied the long sleeves up, tugging the knot snugly. Her hand reached for the wooden bucket near the door.

“Grandfather, I'll head out to fetch some water.” 

“Hm.” 

That was enough confirmation for Yura to step out of the hut. The snow already reached above her ankles, making Yura walk a bit faster to not get her socks wet. After a bit of waddling to the nearby running stream and fetching water, she returned to the hut to put it on some fire to purify it. 

This was her routine work: fetch water, make tea, cook some food, and make tea again. 

But between these mundane daily tasks, she would do something else. The Chinese medicine books she's inherited from her mother, she would read those. This has been going on for a few years now and she's got…passable skills. 

She could patch up and stitch deep wounds, and make an antiseptic balm or two. She'd source the raw materials from the forest between two villages. She's never had the opportunity to practice, which limited her abilities greatly. 

However, Yura took it as something that gave her her worth. Something that gave her purpose, that she could use to help others in need.

She would attempt to ask Mizu to let her apply medicine on his occasional scrapes and cuts, but he'd always decline. Yura scoffed at the sudden memory that rose in her thoughts, turning her attention back to the bound paper she was studying. 

But it probed on her mind, still. The urge to find Mizu, unprecedented and rather unwelcome. It was evidently dangerous and if Yura decided otherwise she was stupid. 

And so she rose to her feet and snuck to the back room quietly, hoping her grandfather wouldn't hear her. In the midst of the wood and bamboo shelves with different crafting materials, Yura found a set of Eiji's old clothes, one of the two pairs that he'd stopped using. 

Perhaps she could disguise herself. Surely, it should work to some extent.

She didn't deny the fact whatever she was considering was stupid. She carefully put them on and even tried to bind her chest, but her height… made her look like a con.

Yura ditched that idea, whatever, she could just travel carefully, out of sight of whatever threats lurked in the forests and other villages. So she decided that she'd sneak out tonight. 

But what about grandfather? The thought seized her actions, making her drop the clothes in her hand. What am I doing? 

She couldn't just leave her blind grandfather without any notice of her absence, her heart and stomach lurched at the possible scenarios running in her mind. She's well aware that her blind grandfather is independent in many things, but he's still old. To leave him like that, unaware of where his only family has gone. 

“Yura? Did you drop something?” Eiji's voice broke her trance. 

“It's nothing, grandfather.” She replied, shoving the clothes back where she found them. With a torn heart, one part wants to quench this urge to find Mizu, and the other feels horrible for even trying to leave her old grandfather alone. 

Dusk settled in faster, as nights stretched longer in the winters. 

Yura poured the tea into two cups, sliding one to her grandfather as the old man put down his tongs. She nursed her cup, the heat of the container easing the chill that lingered at her extremities. 

Her eyes were full of turmoil, doubt, and confusion about her impulsive ideas. Yet the elderly man was literally, blind to it. 

“Grandfather,” Eiji's head rose in response to his granddaughters’ voice. 

“I want to search for Mizu. I know, it's a stupid choice. I don't know why I want to find him, but there's this… want. I just want to find him.” 

Yura outed her thoughts but was only faced with silence and Eiji's stern expression. “Please, grandfather. I'll be careful, I swear.” She pleaded again. 

“Yura, you're a woman. You're nineteen years old, you can't fight to defend yourself, and women aren't allowed to travel alone.”

Yet again, everything he said was factual.

“You'll be endangered out there, child. I can't abandon the forge, I'm old and blind, not that they've stopped me from continuing my craft. I am a sword maker, I cannot wield one. I can't teach you how to either.” 

Yura sighed in resignation, every argument evaporated from her tongue. 

Eiji sat calmly as well. Not hearing a reply from his granddaughter, he spoke again. “Why do you want to go?” 

“I don't know, I just want to. It's clawing on my mind, it's taking over my every thought” 

“Rushing to decisions is a stupid trait to have.” 

“I know, grandfather. But I've been like this for a week now. I want to find him.” 

Yura sounded curt about her choice, she needed to snuff this out as soon as possible. It was a horrible trait, but she couldn't ignore its call.

“You're foolish, so was your father. Look at him now, he's dead.” 

“I'm not my father,” Yura hissed, aware of their similar traits but she refused to acknowledge any connection to her father. “I'm not him, grandfather.” 

“Then how do you want to do this? Did you even think it out? You could get sold to someplace you don't want to be in, you could be killed, blackmailed, abducted and there are worse things than that.” 

She flinched at the mere mention of them all. Being born a woman in this time would be no less than a liability, Yura knew that well. But she was stubborn and foolish above all.

“I want to go, grandfather.” She was adamant, taking the dumbest decision of her life. “Please.” 

The old man scoffed with frustration, throwing a shawl over her face, “Fine! Go on and face the consequences of your choices.” 

Yura was surprised, she immediately jumped up to her feet in shock, “Are you–” 

“Go!” 

She winced at her grandfather's tone. With trudging feet she gathered a few supplies that would last her seven days at most. With the elderly man's frustrated yet reluctant permission, Yura started questioning her actions. 

No, not now. I've already gotten my grandfather's permission, I can't think about this differently. In moments, she was near the doorstep of the forge. 

“Wait, if you're leaving, take a knife with you.” 

Yura turned back to see her grandfather still sitting on the floor, gesturing back to the wood shelf lined with swords and knives. With a tentative look, she let her hands choose for her. 

“I'll be back soon, grandfather. I promise.” 

“...take care of yourself.” 

Her sincere words weren't met with much of a confident response from her grandfather, but she smiled nonetheless.  

The wooden door shut with a creak, as she was hit with the chill of the season. Wrapping her shawl closer, she stepped into the ankle-deep snow, waddling till she reached some free ground. 

I can't believe I'm doing this. 

A few hours had passed, and dawn was about to break in the sky as she reached a village. She felt the pain register in her mind, her legs and calves ached, even if she would argue that she probably walked more while working in and about back home. 

The place was rather deserted, people already seeking shelter in their homes. She knocked on one of the doors “Excuse me? Anyone home?” 

The door shakily creaked open, the man who did looked terrified as no words left his lips. The door was suddenly tugged open wider, and it was an old man now, with a…gun in his hands! A weapon from the west. 

“Is she family?” The man asked, To which the terrified one shook his head as no. 

“How about we take her as well and pay you extra? Hmm?” The man with the gun taunted the latter, seemingly giving him false hope. 

Yura felt her blood run cold, and it was not the weather. She tried to make a run for it, but the terrified man clutched her wrist with a death grip. 

“Please! Take her and leave my daughters alone! Please…” 

The flesh trader clicked his tongue in disapproval, “I never said I'm taking her in exchange for your daughters, I'm taking all three of them.” 

The man visibly paled, frantically pleading the flesh trader to reconsider. But before Yura could act, she felt a hit on her nape, her vision going black. 

The last thing she felt was a rope being tied to her wrists. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Chapter Text

In 1633, Japan closed its borders to the outside world completely. 

Citizens would never see a white face, nor any face that was not Japanese. 

A child born of mixed race would be considered less than human. Pitable, impure. 

Monstrous.

Mizu walked into a deserted village. The layer of snow was much thinner here compared to the forest. Hail picked up with the wind, making it rather hard to see in this weather. 

She heard a few footsteps behind her and turned her head halfway back,

Children. With rocks. Ready to throw them at her. 

Not the first time she's seen that sight. The mere sight of her blue eyes sent them scurrying away to their homes, clearly afraid of them. 

It was cold and Mizu couldn't remember when she last ate. Following the smell of tea and multiple footsteps, she was led to a small restaurant. Sliding the screen frame to the side, she walked in and took a seat at the table closest to the door that had a wall behind her. 

Soon enough a big man who looked disabled came to take her order. “Welcome sir, I'll get you some tea. It's not good tea but you're frozen and it's hot. Then a nice big soba. We make the best soba. Bad tea, great soba. Okay?” 

Mizu simply gave a small nod, the man left humming away. 

“Hey, stumpy! More noodles!” another voice, this one more crude, ordered the chef. “Better get some flesh on you country nothings so you'll sell better at the brothels.” 

An arrogant voice, possibly a flesh-trader. Could this be the man Mizu has been looking for? 

She discreetly raised her head a little, looking at the table diagonal to her. A man in his 40s, and three girls with him. Two of the more timid ones looked like they were left free but the other girl had her wrists bound, in some unconscious state. 

Not my problem. That was Mizu's first thought. She's had enough distractions and wasted a lot more time than she expected to. She's finally on track and she is not stopping until she has her revenge. 

He gets her bowl of soba and sets it on the worn-out wooden table. She picks up the bowl, sniffs it once, and sniffs it twice before sipping the broth. 

After a pause she wolfed down the noodles in moments, Mizu had no idea how hungry she was until now. The chef sighed in contentment, getting up to serve the flesh-trader's table next. 

“Finally. Eat up girls, eat it all!” 

The man forcefully cupped one of the girl's faces making her swat the flesh-trader's hand away, which in turn bumped into the chef's tray spilling the food all over him. 

“Ah!” The flesh trader grunted and growled, rising to his feet to slap the chef without a second thought. 

“What are you, a dog? You let a dog serve food here?” 

“Forgive my son, he can't go a day without breaking dishes,” the owner of the restaurant berated the chef. “Ringo, clean him!” 

Ringo hastily bowed, apologizing, “I'm sorry.” His hurried steps fell on the spilled noodles, making him slip back and spill the other bowl over the customer yet again. “Sorry, sorry,” his clumsiness put him in a dangerous spot.

Enraged, the flesh-trader pulled out a flintlock pistol and aimed it at Ringo. “I should put down this lame dog.” He cocked it with a sneer. 

“I'm not a dog.” 

“Did you just bark? Do you know who I am?” he continued, “I am Hachiman, the flesh trader. No one messes with Hachi!” 

Bingo. That's the man Mizu has been tailing for a few days. And he even had his gun out, the moment couldn't be any more perfect. She pushed her table purposefully loud to attract his attention before stepping forward. 

“Hmm. Impressive. I've never seen a gun like it,” her words made Hachi aim the pistol at her. “Front loading, not a Japanese pistol. It's a European one isn't it?” 

The rest of the customers scurried out of the restaurant sensing a commotion about to build up. 

“That would make it illegal.” Hachiman tilted the gun, assuming Mizu wasn't much of a threat. 

“I've heard of you, Hachiman the flesh-trader. Never leaves a village without buying one of its daughters.” Mizu continued looking at the three girls, two of them hugging each other in fear, while the other girl's wrists were bound and she looked unconscious. 

The unconscious girl looked a bit familiar, the pale green kimono and that specific body frame. The coincidence seemed unlikely and impossible, making her push that assumption away. 

Mizu looked up at Hachi, “I'd love a gun like that,” she chuckled. “Tell me who sold it to you.”

“Fuck off.” The flesh trader grunted, sitting down. 

“You will tell me who sold you that gun.” 

Her firm words paired with the click of her sword made Hachi stand up again, aiming the gun right at her. 

“You want to put my bullet against your blade?” 

She took a few steps back, a disbelieving huff of a smile on her lips. “You don't deserve my blade, you don't even deserve this blade.” 

With a swift motion, she grabbed the cleaver on the table behind her and sliced the man's index and middle fingers, along with half of his gun clean off. Blood splattered as the cut phalanges landed on a small dish, the pistol's front clattering to the side. 

Hachiman screamed holding his hand and looking at his amputated fingers, now it was his turn to back up as Mizu moved forward, knife still in hand. He fell backward onto the table, his hands splayed to the side. “Take it! Take the gun if you want it!” He cried for mercy.

“It's a filthy gun from a filthy place. I don't want it.” She chucked the knife into the other half of the pistol, shattering it into pieces. “I want to know who sold it to you. Tell me now.” 

“Heiji Shindo! I bought it from Heiji Shindo!” 

“Heiji Shindo…” She repeated the name, registering it as a new lead. “Where is Heiji Shindo?” 

“I don't know! I swear I don't!” Hachiman whimpered. His terrified gaze turned into a disgusted one as Mizu lowered her tinted glasses, revealing her blue eyes. She let go of him with a shove, already making her way out. 

“You…You dead-eyed half-blooded demon bastard, you look like an Onryo!” 

Her eyes narrowed at the flesh trader's words. Before he knew it, her sword was unsheathed and Hachi's other finger was cut off as well, putting him in more misery. 

She walked out of the restaurant to follow her new trail and see where it took her.

All that screaming and wailing brought Yura to consciousness. She woke up with a gasp and looked around, taking in situation she found herself in. 

She was in a restaurant, the flesh-trader who bought her was in agony clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, and the two other girls he bought were whimpering in fear just sitting ducks there. Why aren't they thinking of escaping? 

Yura registered her bound wrists and tried to pull off the rope with her teeth but to no avail. She got to her feet, getting the other two girls' attention. She put her index finger on her lips gesturing to them to stay quiet and to follow her slowly. This was a bit of a risk, but surely the flesh-trader wouldn't notice in his fit of anger. 

She tiptoes to the restaurant, stepping out and taking in the deserted village. This was a completely different place, how far away from Kohama is she? How long has it been? She decided to ask the girls. 

“How long has it been? Where are we?” 

“Two days,” one of the two girls whimpered, “he said he'd take us to some brothel in Kyoto.” 

Kyoto. She was far from home, very far. 

“Your wrists aren't bound, you can escape. Take help from the villagers.” 

The girls nodded timidly before rushing away. 

Now Yura looked at her situation. She was in a village near Kyoto, but she needed to escape. Going inside the restaurant would be risky, she could get caught by the pimp again. She had no choice but to follow the big footsteps she saw in the snow, hoping it would lead her somewhere or to someone.

The trail of footsteps was a steady path, but it looked like they'd taken a lot of shortcuts. A little while after, she heard…humming?

Yura looked at her bound wrists, she had to approach whoever it was carefully. Right now she's a liability. Taking tentative steps closer, following the humming she came across a big man tied to a tree. 

“Who are you?” 

The man stopped his humming, looking at her with wide eyes. “You're one of those girls who came with that flesh-trader! I Hated him, he was so mean. But there was this other person in, a blue cape and a very big hat. He cut off that other guy's fingers and then demanded some questions, but he was so cool! A swordsman, a samurai! And his eyes were blue. I wanted to be like him, so I followed him and asked him to take me as his apprentice, but he didn't like that and tied me up to a tree and left.” 

Wow. This guy talks a lot. 

“Oh, I'm Ringo, the chef and server of the restaurant my dad owns.” 

“I'm Yura.” She finally had a chance to speak, after all of that detailed retelling. “You said something about blue eyes?” That's the point that got to her. 

“Yes! Blue eyes. But a very skilled fighter.” 

“And where did he go?” 

“There, that way,” he motioned to the path they were on, “that's the way to Kyoto.” 

Yura narrowed her eyes, that's where she needed to go. Blue eyes, she couldn't be mistaken, that was him. Mizu. 

“Hey miss, do you know him?” 

She muddled over it and gave a simple nod “I know him. Say, I'll get you out of these ropes, you get mine off my wrists and we'll find him together.” 

Ringo visibly brightened up at that offer, nodding eagerly. He seemed glad to have found a companion on this trip of mutual result. 

Yura undid the knot on the other side of the tree trunk, freeing Ringo, and he in turn cut the ropes on her wrist with a kitchen knife he was carrying. She recognized the sign on the utensil, her thoughts wandering as they went back to a memory…

A year or two after Yura had come to her grandfather's forge, she'd been seeing Mizu do an array of things. He would learn smithing from her grandfather, then make as many knives as he could. 

“Make a thousand knives, then maybe you can make a sword” 

Was what Yura heard her grandfather tell him. And it seemed that the young boy took that to heart, making knives and religiously practicing with the sword later at night, perfecting every move that he watched the customers demonstrate. 

She brought her mind back to the present, reverently touching the flat of the blade near the signature. “This knife, he made it.” 

“Huh? He who?” Ringo asked. 

“That samurai you're after. He made this knife, that's his signature” She pointed at the indented signature at the hilt of the blade. 

The other marveled, gasping in awe looking at the knife in his hands now with much more awe and respect than before. 

“So you do know him! Was he your friend? Lover?” 

“No, no, He's a friend.” 

“He does not look like the type to be in a relationship. Not that I'm judging. But also—”

“Let's just…go.” 

From there both Yura and Ringo followed the path that would take them to Kyoto. 

Mizu wandered around in Kyoto, she tried to strike up a conversation with a few of the locals to ask for directions to the Shindo dojo, but these people seemed to be weary of her. 

“Uhm, excuse me, could you tell me where—” another person left with a small shake of their head. “Excuse me, do you know the directions to the—” another local steered away.

They were very weary about her. 

Suddenly three horses stopped before her, seated on them were three men with mustard clothing and the typical samurai hairstyle. 

“Watch it, asshole.” The middle one sneered down at her. 

“Apologies, I just wanted to know the directions to the Shindo dojo.” 

The men scoffed, “That's our dojo, you want to apply as a student?” He laughed. “Forget it, you look like a blind beggar.” They all shared a laugh at that comment. 

Mizu gritted her teeth, reining in her annoyance. “If you can tell me where it is, I will be very grateful.”

“Sure, follow the road to the shrine. Once you go around the gates, you'll see the sign across the puppet show. Good luck.” One of them answered and rode off with small snickers. 

With resignation and determination, she took the directions and went as they instructed.

.

.

.

They tricked her. 

They led her to a brothel. 

Mizu sighed, what was I even expecting from people like them? She turned around, ready to leave, but was stopped by two prostitutes dragging her in. 

“You look lost, lost boy. Come on inside. Rest awhile.” 

“I'm looking for the Shindo dojo.” She clarified her disinterest.

An old man was pushed out of one of the rooms, followed by the prostitutes' laughter. “Which…this I see is not.” 

“This is the Shindo house, it's much better here,” the other prostitute trailed a finger on her jawline. “If you have any sword tricks you want to show off, you can do it here.” 

“We can polish the tip up for you.” The other got too close to her neck.

She politely shook them off. “I must decline, My business is urgent.” She stepped out of the entry hallway back outside. 

“Most men grab first, ask prices later. You're different. Polite…sweet…” 

Mizu stopped the prostitute's hand from going lower, making her sigh and answer. 

“But firm. Okay lost boy, walk east to the Kamo River, then take the bridge to the temple with a thousand creepy statues. It's on the hill just past.” 

Mizu simply gave a nod and bowed, “I wish you a successful day in business.” 

But then there was a clatter and crash behind her. She turned to look at the puppet show's foundation half tumbled down, kids crying and the old owner looked pissed. 

The cause was standing right there, both Ringo and a woman under a shared huge cloth to cover their heads to follow Mizu while looking not so discreet. The big man just gave a smile and a happy wave, while the woman looked at Mizu like she saw a ghost.

“How much for one night?” Mizu asked one of the two prostitutes, who held up five fingers. She looked back at Ringo, if he managed to catch up this quick one night would not be enough. 

“Make that three,” she said, putting the coins in the women's hands, and going to grab Ringo to put him in the brothel's care.

After that was sorted, Mizu turned to the woman who was just staring at her, without any words coming out of her mouth. What's her deal? 

However, she did look…familiar. Maybe all that dirt on her face made her look ashy and unrecognizable, but that scent of camomile was specific. She had a hunch on who this could be but that just seemed impossible. Swordfather would have never, never let her out on her own like this. 

Or so she thought. 

Yura stared at him, wide-eyed. It was Mizu, the same poker face and blue eyes, but were now hidden by tinted glasses. She couldn't be mistaken, not after all those dreams and memories that have been plaguing her mind. He was about to leave, but she hastily grabbed his wrist. 

“Mizu.”

He looked confused and then recognition sparked in his eyes. He sighed, looking even more confused and a bit frustrated like he was not happy to see her. 

“Yura. How did you get here? Swordfather couldn't have sent you, did you sneak out?” 

She specifically hated how he framed that sentence, she knew what she did wasn't the brightest, and she would have probably been sold to a brothel by now if it wasn't for Mizu confronting Hachiman, even if it was in his favor.

“He let me go,” Her words came out a bit more curt than she expected them to. She felt like a child being told to behave and it pissed her off. “And I'm here because I wanted to find you.” 

Yura watched as his expression went from taken aback, to then incredulous.

“You came here to find me? For what? That's just stupid, you could've gotten yourself killed.” 

“Well I'm not dead, am I?” 

“Not yet, you got lucky.”

Seriously, what was with these bitter, cold answers of his? Yura wondered. It made her either want to throw a punch at him or start just crying. This whole thing was messing with her head badly. 

“You should go back to Kohama, it's not safe here.” 

She opened her mouth, reluctant to say something but she did so anyway. “I can't go back, it's too far away.” 

“Then you should've thought this through before having any bright ideas.” He scoffed. 

Yura grits her teeth, she feels like a complete idiot right now but she finally feels at ease, seeing Mizu after so long. Even in this unfamiliar huge city, it didn't feel so foreign anymore. 

“What were you doing in the time you were gone?” 

“Nothing you need to know about.” 

“Grandfather told me about you seeking revenge, so you don't need to hide everything from me.” 

He looked a bit surprised at that, but shrugged it off, “Then why did you ask?” 

“Making conversation?? Can't I talk to my friend?” She asked disbelievingly. 

Mizu almost huffed a laugh, shaking his head lightly “We're not friends.” 

“What the hell does that mean? We've known each other for years!” 

“As acquaintances.” 

Yura groaned, holding her head in her hands, God it was so frustrating to talk to him! She's almost glad Mizu never talked to her before, because if conversing with him was this infuriating then they would've had huge arguments every day. 

Before they knew it, they were on the bridge, still arguing. Was it arguing or just a one-sided yelling competition?  

“Make way for Princess Akemi! Make way, make way,” the clamoring of servants was heard as people on the bridge moved to the side and bowed. The only people who didn't bow were Mizu and Yura. 

She watched Mizu's eyes widen ever so slightly as the princess’ carriage passed by them. Of course, the princess was beautiful and such a reaction was expected, but that just soured her mood all over again.

After the carriage passed, Yura pushed his jaw up, with a huff, her hand was quickly swatted away, though. Why was she doing this? She doesn't know either. 

“What were you staring at?” 

Mizu rolled his eyes, giving her no answer. 

“I don't care what you do, if you want to stay here, stay. If not, leave. You are not my responsibility and I won't take you with me. That's it.” 

Yura watched him say all that, leaving her here and crossing the bridge to the other side. Without much thought she bunched up snow in her palms and shot it right at Mizu's straw hat, making it tip with impact. Good aim. 

Mizu on the other hand, turned back unimpressed, shooting her a hard glare before turning back to go on his way to the Shindo dojo. 

Yura groaned and grumbled, dropping to her knees at the bridge, whining to herself. 

“Ugh seriously, what kind of an asshole is he? He used to stay quiet all the time back in the forge and now he's running his mouth like nothing! And he doesn't even consider us friends. Not. Friends. Then why did I waste my time searching for that son of a—” 

Her not-so-inner monologue which she was running her mouth about was briefly interrupted. 

She looked up to see a woman in her 40s. “Miss, are you married?” 

Yura simply shook her head, unaware of what to do in this situation. “Why are you asking?” 

The woman leaned down and wiped the dust off Yura's face, and gasped. “What a beautiful face! And you're young! The fortune teller was right. You're coming with me, girl. I promise you've got nothing to be worried about. My son is a merchant and he's got a decent salary, he's a bit of a brat sometimes but having a wife and children will surely fix him!” she grinned.

Yura was dumbfounded, she didn't know when she stood up, got pulled back into the city by the woman, made to enter a home and get shoved into a room. She got back to reality when she heard the screen frame slide shut.

“... I'm sorry what?!”