Your Father's Daughter || Mizu x Fem! Reader || ||Blue Eye Samurai ||

Chapter 6

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

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

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

Or had they?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Master-ow..I'm sorry I di-" The apprentice was beginning to rise, rubbing his forming bruise.

"Get out."

"I'm-"

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