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

Chapter 13

When you came to, the skin on your cheek was greeted by the hard cold ground, shocking your body into wakefulness. A couple blinks, and you were scurrying to your feet in adrenaline filled panic. Your body ached, the sudden movement causing you to drop back to the ground, and you began to take in your surroundings as you started to calm yourself.

Outside. You had made it outside. Clenching the hard snow in your hands, the memories had started to slip back into your mind. The running, the screaming of women, the gunshot that went off. You started to recall the last few hours you had spent in the mountain side prison with the apprentice and his master.

His master.

You scanned your surroundings closely now. A few feet away lay his body. As quiet as possible, you crawled closer to him. The details of his damage became more clear the closer you reached until you were hovering over him. He had scarring on his skin, disrupting the smooth texture it usually had. Dried blood painted his face, some now washed off with the help of the melting snow. You could see his clothes had burn marks and tears from the fighting he did to push through the prison. His back moved slightly under his clothing. He was breathing.

A surprising sense of relief washed over your mind like sudden rain on a pit of fire. You didn't dare reach out to touch him, but his breathing no matter how shallow his breaths were, gave you some peace. Especially with what it took for you all to make it out.

Flashbacks of the last few hours passed behind your eyes. The bodies of the guards left on the floor as you two and the rest of the women made their way out the prison. The dim lit hallways as you all tried to use your memory to find your way back. That's what the guards had not accounted for. It had been so long since any of the other prisoners had seen their entrance in, they had forgotten how to leave and in doing so they became even more docile with their imprisonment, losing hope of escape. Not you, and clearly not the two men locked up with you. Hope was as reliable as a bad rope, but you all held onto it and looked for opportunities. Ringo receiving the beat down he had by the men with egos as big as their heads and coming back with the key to your escape was the first glance of freedom. His master making himself a target was the second.

You remembered how it all went, the memories rushing you as you watched him breath on the cold winter floor. The scent of panic radiating off the prisoners, the rush of adrenaline in your veins as you pushed past. Soon you caught Ringo's master stop at a corner, glancing around before dashing off somewhere else. You scoffed. Of course. This was his chance to escape. The prisoners were set free, but their freedom was no ones responsibility but their own. You looked around and found Ringo, guiding them. Still recovering from his bruises, yet he moved with agility and patience. He bent over to help those that he could as you all looked for another door, something that could lead to the outside.

"Stop right there!" A man's voice rang out from the opposite hallway. Behind him were more guards to back him up and retrieve all the prisoners. You all had made it this far, and you refused to go back there because everyone was moving too slow. The blue eyed man had decided to take his leave the moment he could, and it was probably best you made the same decision. The selfish live longer.

The familiar sound of choking on blood, followed by a loud thud was heard from behind the man. You heard a sword slice the air before the cruel sound of its blade splitting skin, and then another body hit the ground. The men turned around to meet eyes with the bloodied samurai, now reunited with his blade once more. His fingers clasped around it with ease, almost like it was a part of his limbs. He readied himself for the next person to come his way now that his presence was known, and they charged him.

Once again you witnessed the dance of his fighting technique. How his blade moved through the air, through the bodies of the guards. He became as fluid as the blood he was spilling onto the walls of the prison.