Cut Out for Something Else

by poolsidescientist

Summary:

For his whole life, Taigen wanted nothing more than to cut himself out of the net of poverty and violence. As he follows Mizu to London he realizes how much he still has to escape.

Notes:

I have not written fan fiction in an eternity but I really enjoyed this show and needed a break from my other work so why not? As always I own nothing but my own thoughts and opinions.

Chapter 1: Taigen

Taigen hated boats. He hated the musty smell of the old wood, the flapping sails in the wind, the salt in the sea air, and especially the sound of the waves crashing against the sides. As the son of a fisherman, he’d become painfully familiar with all these things and more. He’d helped his father on the boats as a child. He’d repair nets and cast them, hoping there’d be enough fish in the nets that his father would pass out from his drinking rather than being sober enough to beat him. Taigen would never forget the smell of alcohol on his father’s breath as he’d hit him if that net was empty. His screams often blending in with the crashing of the waves.

His father always kicked him when he was down. The other fishermen would laugh. He was outnumbered and could not fight back. When away from his father he’d kick the stray dogs in town. His friends would laugh. He was the leader and that made him feel strong. When he couldn’t find the dogs he’d throw rocks at Mizu. He always kicked Mizu when he was down. It made him feel bigger, stronger, and as though he had some power in the world. Taigen thought he could cut himself out of his father’s net when his father was someone he’d already become. He shuddered at the memory.

It was because of Mizu that he’d gotten back on a boat. Not a simple fishing boat but a ship to a place called London. Taigen knew nothing of London except that it was a world away and Mizu’s father may or may not be there. Hopping on a ship to cross the ocean at the suggestion of as horrid a man as Abijah Fowler was both foolish and impulsive. Definitely something Mizu would do.

At the very least Mizu had left him a letter explaining his plan to him and Ringo. It detailed how he planned to take a ship to London and kill the men he feared could be his father and that he would be back by the fall and they would have their duel.

“Yup, that sounds like Mizu. Mizu is…a man. A man on a mission.” Ringo had laughed nervously as Taigen read the letter out loud. Only Mizu could make returning from such a voyage within the year sound like a certainty. Taigen was less inclined to take a chance.

Now Mizu was the reason he’d gotten on one of those boats he hated so much. He’d left Ringo on his way back to master Eiji’s and stowed away in a barrel to be loaded onboard. As far as he knew Mizu had no idea he’d followed him onto the ship. Mizu would have tried to talk him out of it. Taigen was as stubborn as Mizu was impulsive.

He’d fallen asleep in the barrel, silently, where no one noticed him. In that sense his childhood was good for something. Taigen knew how to stay out of trouble on a boat. Still, the waves crashed against the side of the ship. Wherever they were, they were hours away from the shore. Wherever they were going, there was no going back.

Taigen took it as a sign to crawl out of the barrel. He stretched out and looked around. It was good to be able to stand again. It was dark, but still some light crept in through windows in the side of the boat. Enough to see he’d been loaded in with provisions for the journey. Judging by the amount of provisions it was going to be a long voyage. “Mizu, what have you gotten yourself into?” Taigen whispered to himself, looking at a large box with bars on the window. A cage big enough to be a prison cell. Against his better judgment he looked inside.

“Well lucky me, I’ve got company for entertainment.” In the cage was a voice Taigen never wanted to hear again.

“Fowler.”

“Oh, you thought your friend killed me. I’m sorry to disappoint,” he stared out the bars to his cell. Green eyes glowing cruelly in the dark.

“How?”

“I can open doors. In London. In Europe. I’m worth more alive than dead. Oh the things I could tell you about your blue-eyed friend.” Fowler laughed. Taigen was ready to walk away from the madman. He wasn’t in the mood to be taunted. If nothing else, Mizu was smart enough to keep him in a cage.

Having had enough of Fowler, it was time for a bit of fresh air. Taigen found his way out of the cargo hold, quietly avoiding the sailors. It was a clear day and the sun was shining through the windows of the ship. It was still unwise to go up all the way to the deck so he hid and watched the sailors go up and down to and from the deck. A glimpse into a life he could have had had he not cut himself out of the net of a life at sea.

After a few moments of quiet he heard another set of footsteps on their way up to the deck of the boat. This time it was Mizu he was able to get a glimpse of. Somehow he looked younger. He’d changed his hair, wearing the same bangs he had as a child. The child that Taigen had called a dog and thrown rocks at.

Growing up, Taigen wanted nothing else but to escape his father and the town that made him. But how could he escape something he’d already become. It was as though the net he was trying to escape was carved into his skin and he’d have to rip it out the way Fowler’s goons had ripped out his fingernails. Both were more painful than he realized. He didn’t owe Mizu a duel. He owed him a debt.

Sailors came and went as did the day fading into sunset. The first day of a voyage Taigen assumed would last many days. He wasn’t ready to talk to Mizu yet. He had no idea what to say. But, by the time they reached the shores of London he knew he’d have a chance to figure it out.

Chapter 2: Mizu

Notes:

I've got ideas and yeah, this is a multi-chapter fic now. Who knows where it'll lead. I do not own the source material as always and thanks for reading. This chapter is in Mizu's POV.

The stars looked different from the ocean. There was a clarity to them, a perspective that could not be seen on land. Despite growing up on the outskirts of a fishing village, Mizu had spent very little of her life on boats. Looking out onto the ocean she could see the reflection of the stars shining on the water. Their brightness a stark contrast from the dark sea. It made her feel as though she was a part of the sky. A speck of dust in the universe. Not a demon, not a dog, not a woman, but a piece of the same nothingness as all other beings who had ever sat in a boat at night. Suddenly, she understood why so many poets loved the ocean.

Mizu looked down into the water. She couldn’t reach it but she saw the reflection of the boat on the water. It was at peace, as though the boat itself was sleeping as they sailed through the night. With Ringo’s help she’d hired a good crew. The man had a natural charm and optimism to him unlike anything Mizu had ever experienced. A typhoon indeed, he’d endeared himself to her over time.

Ringo had killed once in Madam Kaji’s brothel and Mizu hoped he would never have to kill again. He did not have the soul of a killer. Staying with Master Eiji was good for him. He’d taken to making kitchen knives and other cutlery. It was better he was there, Master Eiji needed an apprentice and Ringo needed a mentor whose legacy wasn’t soaked in death and despair.

“So, master, are you really thinking of going to London? I’m excited to go with you even though I’m not sure how I’ll do on the boat. I do get seasick but that’s okay. I wonder if they have soba in London. Maybe I should bring soba to London-” Ringo babbled on as they helped the sailors load the ship.

“You don’t need to follow me. Not this time Ringo.”

“But, how am I supposed to learn how to be a samurai?” His eyes watered as though he were about to cry.

“The same way I did. From everyone who comes to swordfather for a sword.”

“Master Eiji did say he could use an apprentice but-”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I don’t know if I’ll come back. He’s not getting any younger Ringo.” She looked up at Ringo, he still looked sad but not on the verge of tears anymore, “plus you’re a much better cook than me.”

“If you make it back from London I will happily take you on as a student.”

“Thank you Ringo.” Mizu cracked a rare smile.

“For being an apprentice?”

“For being a friend. I’ve never had one before. I’m not very good at being one.”

“I’ve never had a friend before either. Except for that family of tanukis that one time.”

They both laughed. Mizu did not laugh very often. It was a strange, almost warm feeling. She was a poor master and worse friend, and yet she was almost sad to leave. Still, they were both taken care of. Mizu assumed Taigen had found Akemi and they’d figured themselves out somehow. Everyone she cared about would be alright. They would be better off with her out of their lives. And so, she made the choice to sail away.

She’d locked Abijah Fowler in a holding crate meant for cargo much more precious than him. He would not be alive by the end of her journey. Three more men to kill. Monsters no one would miss.

Her father. One of them was her father. One of them cursed her mother into bringing her into the world. They failed to kill her as a baby. She wished they hadn’t. She should have burned in that fire. She should have burned when the townsfolk had burned her house down as a child. She should have burned while going after Fowler. Maybe she’d burn down with London once she was done with the city. She wasn’t supposed to survive. Only fire can cleanse pure evil from the world. When Mizu thought of the evils of the world, most of the time she thought about herself.

Looking down at her own reflections, she could see the blue eyes glowing in her pale face. How common were blue eyes in London? Would the people there look at her in the same way as the people of Japan? Perhaps they would see her as a foreign demon as well. They would be right to, considering her intentions. She was going to London for revenge, the people there had no reason to love her.

Fowler was teaching her English. It was her first time learning a foreign tongue. The words sat awkwardly in her mouth, like undercooked vegetables in a stew. Still, she tolerated his gloating in order to learn the words and expressions that would open doors for her. Fowler warned her that the English had no love for foreigners, she told him she’d feel right at home.

He was extra smug when she’d gone to bring him dinner in the evening. Fowler's eyes had glowered like a cat who’d caught a mouse. She’d said nothing to him but she had heard footsteps around the ship over the course of the day. She also noticed a broken barrel that someone had escaped from. They had a stowaway on the ship and Fowler knew who it was.

Her first thought was Ringo but Mizu dismissed it quickly. Ringo was quiet. If Ringo had smuggled himself onboard she would not have heard his footsteps until he wanted her to.

Another possibility was that Fowler had hired an assassin to come kill her. Mizu would not put it past him. He’d sent the four fangs after her. Him and Heiji Shindo. Heiji Shindo was dead. Fowler was not. But Fowler enjoyed tormenting her too much to kill her now. Like Ringo, a good assassin would have evaded her. Mizu doubted that the stowaway was a professional killer.

Princess Akemi was always trying to run from her problems. Perhaps she was the stowaway. Mizu would not be surprised. Perhaps she ran away with Taigen but found him to be lacking in some regard and wanted to start a new life somewhere else. If Mizu ever made it back to Japan and Taigen still wanted to follow through with their duel he was welcome to it. But not today, regardless of Akemi, or anyone else’s desires.

Perhaps the stowaway was a stranger. Someone Mizu did not know and posed no threat to her. Still, Mizu reached for the knife in her pocket as she heard the footsteps approach. They were familiar footsteps. Not Akemi’s. Someone who was used to walking on the deck of a boat. She looked over her shoulder, sighing with annoyance.

“Taigen???”

She dropped the knife.

Chapter 3: Taigen

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. As always I own nothing except my desire to procrastinate. It's fun to flex my creative writing muscles again before getting back into some original writing.

Taigen had nowhere to hide.

After spending so long below deck he was desperate for some fresh air. He’d assumed the crew was asleep. The crew was asleep. But Mizu was Mizu. Trust Mizu not to sleep.

“What happened to Akemi?” Mizu frowned. He looked genuinely concerned.

“I wanted to run away together. She wanted to be great,” he sighed. Taigen thought back to their conversation on the bridge, the city burning behind her. The fire surrounding them mere embers when compared to the determination in her eyes. The girl he’d fallen in love with had blossomed into a woman who had outgrown him. Akemi was a princess, and he was the son of a poor fisherman. Sometimes he wished he was the son of a poor fish.

“She has a city to rebuild. I look forward to seeing what she does with the place.” Mizu picked up the knife he dropped, putting it back in his pocket. “I’m sorry you’re not there to rebuild it with her. Pretty sure she could use a friend.” Taigen never even considered that possibility.

“Mizu-”

“Why are you here Taigen?” Mizu crossed his arms and sighed. He gave Taigen a look that reminded him of the looks his mother used to give his father after he’d stumbled in after a night of drinking.

“Where else could I go?”

“Anywhere in Japan? Anywhere else in the world”

“And do what? I’ve got no honour! I’ve got no future! I could join my brother on his fishing boat and marry a local girl and drink myself to death like my father. I could kill for money and live a coward’s life. Those aren’t lives. After everything I’ve done to escape.” Taigen lamented.

“You could learn to make those fish dumplings you liked so much. I’m sure Ringo could teach you how to make soba.” It was hard to tell if Mizu was joking or not.

“Do all your plans involve Ringo?” Taigen couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Mizu trusted Ringo more than him and somehow that stung.

“Do all your plans involve following me as though I can solve your relationship problems? We’ll have our duel in the fall if it’s still what you want.”

“Someone has to make sure you live until then.” In truth, Taigen had forgotten about the duel. The allure of regaining an arbitrary notion of honour had lost its luster in his eyes. Without it, without Akemi, he had no purpose. Following Mizu to London was something he could do, even if he didn’t quite understand why he was going or what he would do upon his return.

“My battles are my own.”

“You’re so fucking reckless.”

“I’m reckless? I want what I’ve always wanted,” Mizu answered coolly.

“Revenge? What happens when you get that? If you don’t die along the way?”

“I’ll be satisfied. My work will be done.”

“What work? What do you want from those men?”

“If I kill those men. They won’t be able to make any more demons. Demons like me,” Mizu confessed. He looked more sad than angry. Taigen wanted to be angry at Mizu, to look at the man and see a demon but he could not. His blue eyes and pale skin glowed in the moonlight. His hair was down, which, when combined with the bangs somehow softened his face.. He was…oddly beautiful. It was something Taigen found incredibly confusing and uncomfortable.

“And then what?” Taigen asked. He didn’t know why he asked that question when he knew Mizu didn’t have a plan for after.

“We fight our duel. You get your honour back.” He discussed his own demise as though it was the weather. Taigen walked over to Mizu and looked over the side of the boat at their reflections in the water. He looked the same as ever, though slightly worse for wear after sneaking aboard the ship. On the positive, his hair was growing back. He looked at Mizu’s reflection as he stared blankly at the horizon. As always, Mizu was lean and sinewy. He had slender, graceful hands Taigen wouldn’t mind being touched by. It was best he didn’t think about it anymore, especially now that he couldn’t blame Akemi for his arousal. Mizu looked up at him “why did you follow me Taigen.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore. All my life I thought fighting my way into being a great man was the only way out of becoming my father. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“Greatness.”

“You’re still young, you could be a great man if you wanted to.” Not words he expected to come out of Mizu’s mouth. He patted Taigen on the arm. Taigen wished his hands would linger a little longer.

“Greatness is empty.” Taigen thought about what would happen if he’d had is duel with Mizu and killed him. If he were a samurai again. If he killed his way back into society’s high esteem. What once fueled him on his quest felt hollow. It had become clear to Taigen that he was unable to fight his way into happiness. “Maybe I want to be good.”

Mizu’s eyes widened. Now he was the one not expecting those words to come out of Taigen’s mouth. He nodded and left to go back below deck.

“Get some rest Taigen. If Fowler’s to be believed we have a long trip to London ahead of us.”

Chapter 4: Fowler

Notes:

I figured it was time for a Fowler POV since he is also on the ship.

Heavy trigger warning for animal cruelty in this chapter.

Once again, Abijah Fowler was fucking bored.

For 10 years he had schemed to get out of the castle the shogun had insisted on keeping him in. The luxurious prison that held him representing the personification of shame kept in a box. Getting rich off his business dealings was perfectly acceptable but God forbid the sunlight touch his skin and the locals see his foreign face. The shogun had shame. Abijah Fowler had none. He had never understood the arbitrary rituals of the aristocracy, in Japan, England, even back in Ireland where he was from. As far as he was concerned there were only two reasons to do anything: because you had to or because you wanted to. The aristocrats had a fanciful notion of duty and honour but these were just excuses to control people. Abijah Fowler preferred to control people by force. A gun to the head had none of the decorum of some arbitrary social rules, but at least you knew what the intentions were. The Japanese were polite. The English cared about manners too. None of it mattered if you were hungry.

Abijah Fowler had never forgot what it was to be hungry. It had taught him that his existence was arbitrary in the grand scheme of things. It freed him from any sense of social pretence. He was as much a beast as the men and women around him. But he’d made himself rich enough that he no longer needed to bow to anyone. Not the king. Not the shogun. Getting into the castle was easy. It’s defenses best set up to keep out new ideas rather than an invading army. Were it not for a blue-eyed half breed he’d be calling the shots in Japan. A puppet shogun and a country on their knees.

In some ways, Fowler wished Mizu was his daughter. Having sired such an efficient killing machine would be nothing if not an ego boost. His own bastards were weak, their bones little more than decorations in the tunnels of his old castle. None of his bastards ever cut through expensive cutthroats, made it up to his level of his castle, or burned a city to the ground. Fowler had to admit he was impressed. She had no idea what awaited her in London, instead of a society who hated her for being half-white, she would meet a society that hated her for being half-Japanese. But perhaps for Mizu it would make little difference, a blade is a blade, a gun is a gun, revenge is revenge, and death is cheap in London.

Of course, they would have to get there first. Mizu had shoved him in a crate with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs and find out ways to toy with her mind as he taught her the language. It was important to teach her enough to get by but not enough that she wouldn’t need him anymore. The trip to London would take a full year, one he would spend like a barnacle in a box.

Out of the corner of his eye Fowler spotted movement in the corner of his cage. He reached out and grabbed it. It was a rat, squirming in his hand. It’s little furry body small and helpless. Its beady black eyes looked up at him in fear. He was the closest thing the poor little beast would meet to a God. Fowler’s grip tightened. The rat fought harder, scratching at his fingers until it couldn’t fight anymore. He unclenched his fist. The rat’s warm blood dripping down his arm. He’d missed the feeling of blood dripping down his arm.

It had been a long time since Fowler had killed anything because he had to. He didn’t have to kill the rat. It probably wouldn’t have harmed him. But how could he resist? The beast was helpless, if he hadn’t killed the animal something else would have. Fowler licked the blood off of his arm. ‘The taste of childhood’ he thought to himself. He shoved the rest of the rat in his mouth, fur and all. It’s bones crushing between his teeth.The fur was an awkward texture in his mouth but he chewed it nonetheless. He gagged on the tail, spitting it out as he swallowed the the rest of the animal. Fowler didn’t need to eat the rat. So far the crew had given him regular meals. But nothing was stopping him. It was small prey but he was still a predator. Everyone on the ship knew it, though not as intimately as the rat currently sitting in his stomach.

Fowler heard more shuffling into the cargo hold. He hoped it was Mizu, one of these days he’d have to eat a rat in front of her to watch and see if she’d squirm. He lunged towards the bars of his cage. The man jumped. It was the stowaway who followed Mizu around like a stray dog. He was not very entertaining, even watching Heiji Shindo torture the man had been boring.

“I was just having a snack,” Fowler stuck the rat tail out the bars of his cell for the samurai, “want the last piece.”

“No.” The man looked ill. Seeing his disgust made Fowler smile. Perhaps the fool could offer some entertainment after all.

“Very well, more for me.” He chewed the rest of the rat tail and swallowed it, crunching loudly so Taigen could hear, “you know what the best part of a rat is?”

“Not eating rats?”

“Obviously that’s true, but if you’ve got to eat a rat the best part is the blood. Get the rat while it’s warm, bite down, and suck all the blood out of the little bugger,” Taigen looked about as green as Fowler’s eyes, “guessing you didn’t grow up eating rats.”

“No, I grew up eating fish guts. You want to know what the best part of eating fish guts is? Getting out of Kohama and not having to eat fucking fish guts.” The man stormed off. He was having a rough night. Taigen the samurai clearly had no idea what he had gotten into. Fowler wondered if he even knew Mizu was a woman. A grin spread across his bloodstained lips. Perhaps it would not be as dull a year at sea as he envisioned.

Chapter 5: Mizu

Notes:

Been busy but here we go. I own nothing but my (albeit bizarre) ideas.

Mizu knew better than to show fear.

She steadied herself, taking a deep breath as she walked down into the darkness of the ship. The boards creaked beneath her feet as she headed towards Fowler’s cage. Scanning the room, her eyes paused on the barrel Taigen had stowed away in.

It had been a week since Taigen had confronted her that night on the deck. They weren’t particularly at odds but they’d only had a few conversations since. They worked together, albeit in parallel. Mizu had a lot of things she would like to say to him, how she was glad to see him alive, how he was a distraction, how she was relieved to not be alone on a ship of strangers and Abijah Fowler but those words had to remain on the tip of her tongue. Taigen was a natural sailor, he knew his way around a ship. He’d already bonded with the crew. No matter how much time the man had spent training with a sword, being on a boat was in his bones. He belonged at sea. Considering some of the stories he shared with the sailors, Mizu couldn’t help but agree that Akemi made a good decision to remain a princess in Edo. Had she and Taigen run off and got married they would have had four months of romance and forty years of resentment after truly getting to know each other.

One of the stories Taigen had shared with Mizu was that Fowler killed a rat and ate it raw. Taigen had been disgusted by the fact. For Mizu it was a reminder of the exact sort of monsters she was out to kill on her quest for revenge. Men who kill for entertainment and eat raw flesh on a whim. Devils. True devils if ever there were any.

Today’s devil was Abijah Fowler teaching her English. So far she’d learned basic greetings and how to ask for directions. If Fowler died tomorrow she wouldn’t be trapped in Londen knowing nothing. Still, it was a long year of learning ahead of her. English was so different from Japanese she would suspect it would take her the year. Taking another deep breath she arrived at her destination. Fowler, his green eyes glowing like a cat’s.

“Good morning,” she greeted him in her broken English.

“Eh, how about we skip the pleasantries today. What you’re really looking for is in that barrel over there. Right next to the one your stinky friend busted out of.” Fowler pointed to the left of his crate. Mizu nodded, sure enough noticing a barrel she didn’t quite remember loading onto the boat. She grabbed a knife from her belt, opening the lid of the barrel with it. She lifted it slowly, as though it were going to explode at a moment’s notice. Mizu looked in the barrel.

“Guns.”

“That pretty samurai sword of yours won’t get you very far in London.”

“Does anyone have swords in London?” She was so used to samurai swords she had no idea how a sword from London would even look.

“Some people. Mainly rich pompous lords with fancy titles. They hang them on their wall for decoration to make themselves feel important. They wouldn’t last 5 seconds against a gun.” Mizu could hear Fowler rolling his eyes. He didn’t seem all that impressed with the nobility. She suspected he grew up poor the way Taigen did. Fowler had none of Taigen’s honour.

Mizu stuck her hands in the barrel, gingerly pulling out one of the guns. She held it in her hands and looked at it. It was a long curved tube. Polished woods and accents of some metal, maybe brass. It reminded her more of a piece of furniture than it did a sword. Her sword always felt comfortable, balanced in her hands. The gun had heft. Swordfather had told her that a sword was a line between life and death. This was something else entirely. Mizu wondered what he would think of the gun. Would he see it as a foreign craft or an abomination? She stroked the barrel with her fingers. It was cold. Maybe London would be cold too.

“A sword is a line between life and death,” she recited his words from memory, wishing he were there with her. Fowler laughed.

“A gun’s much simpler. It’s just death.”

Mizu looked down at the lever of the gun. If she remembered correctly it was the trigger. Her finger pressing gently on it, but not enough to set the gun off.

“Anything else I need to know about it?”

“In the barrel next to the guns there’ll be one with flasks and boxes. The flask has gunpowder and the box has lead balls. Unlike a sword you need to load a gun to be able to shoot it,” Fowler explained. Mizu opened the second barrel. Sure enough there were flasks of gunpowder and boxes of lead balls.

“So I need to put something in the gun.” Mizu thought of it as resembling a mixture between a sword and a bow and arrow.

“Only if you plan on shooting anything.”

“Can I practice down here?” Mizu was unsure she wanted to blow holes in the boat.

“It’s too damp. Plus the risk of fire, I’d rather this cage I’m in not become an urn before we reach London. Load the gun here if you wish. If you plan on shooting anyone I’d do so on deck.” After the incident in Edo, the last thing Fowler wanted was for Mizu to start another fire.

“How do I load the gun?” Mizu assumed Fowler was telling her the truth, out of self-preservation if nothing else.

“See that long tube? At the end you’re going to want to pour a bit of gunpowder in there.” Mizu flipped the fun around, the long end of it facing her. Sure enough there was a hole. The business end of the gun. She started unscrewing the powder flask.

“Once you get the powder in, toss in a little lead ball. Then you get that stick in the box, it’s called a ramrod. You ram the ball in the hole like you’re fucking it.” At this, Mizu glared at Fowler. She then followed the rest of his instructions.

“Oh, one last thing. See the lever at the top of the gun, open it up. You’ll see a flint. Pour a bit of powder there to help it light when you fire the gun. Then seal it back up.” Mizu followed these instructions to the letter. The last thing she wanted was for the ship to explode before she got to London.

“How do I shoot it?”

“Move that bit up at the top, it’s there so you don’t shoot yourself. After that just point and shoot. Make sure you know your target and hit it. No need to be an artist about it.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Every time you shoot something you’ll have to reload. That’s the one advantage of that fancy sword of yours.”

“Thank you.” Mizu nodded and Fowler smiled. It probably brought him joy to teach someone a new way to kill.

She turned around and walked up to the deck of the ship. The sun was bright and it was nearly noon. A flock of birds circled the boat. Seagulls. Of course there were seagulls. No matter where you went near or around water there would be seagulls. Perfect. She unlocked the top lever and held her finger loosely against the trigger.

Mizu looked around at the sailors. They were eating lunch. Thus the seagulls.

“Hey, that’s mine!” One of the bolder gulls swooped in and stole a piece of dried fish from one of the sailors.

She pointed her gun at the bird as it attempted to fly away. Mizu pulled the trigger. The seagull’s head blew off and the other gulls scattered in the wind. Feathers drifted through the air like snow. What was left of its body hitting the deck with a thud. Mizu had taken many lives with a sword. But this was the first life she took with a gun. It felt dark.

Notes:

I researched 17th century guns for this.

Also, sorry about the seagull. I love seagulls so I feel kinda bad.

Chapter 6: Taigen

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. I don't own the source material same as ever and thanks for reading.

After a two weeks at sea on the way to London Taigen came to a realization his younger self would have been horrified by. He didn’t actually hate boats. Yes the musty smell below deck was unpleasant and he was tired of eating sailor’s rations. Fowler still freaked him out, and seeing the endless sea, sky, and nothing else became monotonous after a while. But he was not unhappy. The salty air became refreshing. The flap of sails in the wind was now a comforting sound. Even the musty wood of the ship was a grounding force on the ocean.

Even though he’d been a samurai for years, Taigen still remembered how to fix nets and tie knots and clean the ship. A ship the size of the one they were on had additional challenges that he hadn’t learned about as a fisherman’s son in Kohama. For one, Taigen had learned nothing about navigation from his father whose sense of direction only pointed towards the nearest bottle of alcohol. As it turned out the trip to London would not be a direct trip. The ship they were on might have been manned by Japanese sailors, but their trading partners were the Dutch. According to Daisuke, an old sailor who’d made the trip a half-dozen times, they were headed to Batavia, Mauritius, Cape Town, Goree, and Amsterdam before heading to London. Taigen had never heard of any of these places in his life. Both as a samurai and a fisherman, no one expected him to ever leave Japan. And here he was, traveling the world. Maybe for this journey, he’d have finally left his father’s ghost on the docks of Kohama.

It would be at least a month until they reached Batavia. Until then they would keep the routine they’d settled into. Taigen would continue to work with the sailors. He’d made friends with the crew and didn’t mind the work of keeping the ship afloat. Mizu would continue to learn English and how to shoot a gun and help the captain with logistics. Unlike Taigen, Mizu didn’t bond with the crew. He was polite and on good terms with the men, helping out to maintain the ship and doing odd jobs when needed. But unlike the jovial sailors, Mizu was stoic, focused and distant. Also stubborn. The most stubborn person Taigen had ever met. Today Mizu was on deck repairing sails. Taigen had a fishing net to repair and was planning on fixing it on deck as well. He brought the net, sitting next to Mizu. He tolerated his presence, sewing quietly as Taigen untangled the nets. He’d caught a number of fish in the past few days and they’d eaten well.

“So, you’re learning to shoot a gun.” Taigen knew he was pointing out the obvious but it had been too long since he and Mizu had a proper conversation. Mizu nodded, folding a sail she’d finished repairing. “How does it feel?”

“It’s different. They’re fast and deadly, but you have to know where you’re shooting because it takes a while to reload. There’s strategy, it doesn’t take the same amount of strength as a sword. Master Eiji said the sword is the sword of a samurai. A gun is a gun no matter whose hands it’s in.”

“You think master Eiji would be mad at you for picking up a gun?”

“I’m already a disappointment to him. Just add it to the list of reasons why.” Mizu threaded a new needle, tying a knot at the end as he started on a new, especially battered sail.

“You know who I think would like a gun?” Taigen asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Who?”

“Akemi.” With that he’d gotten a laugh out of Mizu. Victory.

“If Akemi had a gun she’d have shot me by now.”

“If Akemi had a gun she’d be the one running the country.”

“She would be, I think she’d like that.” Taigen sighed, it had been a while since he’d thought of her. Something in his heart ached when he did.

“Hey Taigen,”

“Yeah?

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Akemi. I know how much you meant to each other.” There was a softness to his blue eyes as he spoke, Mizu seemed genuinely apologetic about the situation.

“Thanks, I still don’t know how to feel. With Akemi, I knew who I was.” Until you came into our lives like a typhoon and changed everything. Taigen could have said that but he didn’t. Mizu knew. He looked down at the sail he was repairing.

“Was she your first love?”

“She was.” Taigen had made his rounds of the brothels with his peers at the dojo, but Akemi was the only girl he’d actually dreamed of a future with. Taigen had fought to escape the mud and fish guts of his childhood. Akemi knew nothing of mud and fish guts. Akemi was clean, in both body and soul. She never knew poverty and with her, Taigen thought he’d never know poverty again. She was beautiful, and stubborn, and smarter than he could ever hope to be. She could do anything she set her mind to. Even if he would never be able to build a life with Akemi he was happy to share the world with her.

“I guess if it weren’t for me you’d be married to her by now.”

“Maybe. Maybe I was just a detour on her path to greatness. I thought it was my path too.” Akemi had given him gold. She deserved a man who could give her more than candy back.

“Well, you’re pretty great at being a sailor. The crew likes you.”

“They’re good guys. You know they’re not as afraid of you as you might think. Some of these sailors have seen the world. Your blue eyes aren’t the first ones they’ve seen.” Taigen still felt guilty for how he’d treated Mizu as a child. He’d called him a monster and a dog. Looking at Mizu in the sunlight, it was clear that the man was neither. Sure, Mizu was unlike anyone Taigen had ever met before but the man in front of him was as human as he was. Mizu’s pale skin was somewhat sunburned and he’d stopped wearing a scarf around his neck. His neck was smooth like a woman’s but perhaps that was common among white men. He wore his hair down more often as well. Taigen brushed a stray lock of hair behind Mizu’s shoulders. “I never realized, your hair is brown in the sun.

“My hair has always been brown.” Mizu shrugged.

“I guess I didn’t notice.” Taigen had always assumed Mizu had black hair since nearly everyone in Japan had black hair and his was dark enough that he had filled in the blanks with his assumptions.

“It’s not important. I never asked you to.”

“What else am I not noticing?” If Taigen couldn’t even figure out Mizu’s hair colour he was probably missing other things. His whole life he’d looked down at Mizu for his heritage and poverty, he’d looked up to Mizu for his swordsmanship, but he’d never looked at Mizu. All the time he’d known the man, he’d never truly seen Mizu for who he was. For the first time in his life that was something he wanted to know.

Notes:

I've done research for fanfic before but this is the first one that's requiring actual math.

Chapter 7: Mizu

Notes:

Been busy but finally got a chance to write. I don't own the source material, just this story.

Sewing never bothered Mizu. A needle was not unlike a sword. It was a tool for stabbing. Instead of a line between life and death it held the line between pieces, either flesh or skin, that had to be created or mended. Mizu was not one for creation aside from sword making, but she did know how to mend. She’d sewed both her skin and clothing back into place time and time again. She had no desire to spill her guts, either literally or figuratively, out to the world.

Today she was mending neither flesh nor clothes. The sails of the ship were made of fabric, and like all things made of fabric, were not immune to tearing. It was a quiet task she could do by herself. Making herself useful to the crew of the ship while staying out of their way. And so she minded Fowler to keep him from terrorizing the crew, she washed the deck at night, and did laundry, and fixed the sails as needed. Jobs they would consider unpleasant but she was not bothered by. Work was work. Enough of the crew were well traveled enough to not be shocked by a man with blue eyes. She was a curiosity, an anomaly, but not a demon in their eyes. She kept on good terms with the crew but she kept them at arm's length.

Her evasiveness was not out of malice. A blue eyed man was the son of a foreigner but she had no idea what the crew would think of a blue eyed woman. Mizu was not about to find out how they would react. Fowler knew about her, so did the old sailor Daisuke and his son Ryo. No one else. No one else needed to know. Taigen certainly did not need to know.

Taigen didn’t need to know anything. He already knew his way around a ship. Despite his complaining about Kohama and being the son of a fisherman, he was a natural aboard the ship. Aside from Fowler, whose company was universally hated by everyone on the ship, Taigen got along with everyone. He knew how to maintain nets, catch fish, and prepare them either by cooking them right away or by drying them for later in the voyage. He had learned quickly how to navigate a ship and recognize weather patterns on the open ocean. He shared stories from his time as a fisherman’s son and at the dojo and knew all the sailor’s drinking songs. If Mizu had never met Taigen before they left Japan, she’d have assumed he’d been a sailor his whole life. Taigen was a man in the world made for men like him and he never had a hard time fitting in. Mizu had never experienced anything like that in her life. It left an odd, sour lump at the bottom of her stomach. The feeling was odd. It was different from the burning, blinding flashes of anger she was familiar with. It wasn’t the frosty, unsettling dread of fear that stuck like ice to the inside of her skin. It wasn’t even the dull gnaw that came with guilt. What Mizu felt was something else entirely. She was jealous.

At the end of the day, Taigen was just a man. He could go into almost any room and find a way to fit in. He was not a nobleman, but he had been respected both as a peer and a warrior by everyone else. Much as Mizu hated to admit it, Taigen was handsome. But he looked like everyone else. Very few doors were closed to him, so he had learned how to walk through them with ease. He belonged places. He’d never been seen as a freak, or a monster or a demon. Maybe his life hadn’t been easy but he’d had a way out. Mizu never had a way out. She belonged nowhere and there was nothing she could do about it other than make sure no one else ended up in a situation like hers. In some ways she supposed she’d ruined Taigen’s life but even if he never went back to being a samurai he would have no trouble being a sailor. Her future, like her past was filled with death, one that would end with her own once she completed her quest for revenge.

Mizu knew Taigen better than he knew her. It had to stay that way. He’d come up to talk to her, mending fishing nets as she repaired sails. He joked with her as he would anyone else in the crew. It felt familiar. Warm. The kind of warmth where one closes their eyes to and wakes up in a burning house. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and she was grateful for the sunburn hiding the blush that came to her cheeks. Mizu had grown to enjoy Taigen’s presence. She’d grown to enjoy Mikio’s too when they were married. Mikio loved her until he knew her. He knew her as the wife he’d tried to mold her into and lashed out when she was capable of more than he was. Taigen respected Mizu as a warrior, she fully expected him to lash out if he learned more about her. Would he see her as a woman? Could a demon ever truly be a woman?

Taigen smiled at her as she continued sewing. She smiled back, a poor imitation of the warm smiles Ringo shared so freely with the world. Deep down, she wanted to know him, and for him to know her. But Mizu knew better. And she’d learned it the hard way. Unlike the sails she was repairing, her soul could not be stitched together. Only things that were broken could be fixed. She wasn’t broken. She was a demon and demons did not have souls to break.

Chapter 8: Fowler

Notes:

Back in the writing saddle, it's been a wild few weeks. Had fun with this chapter and hope you do too <3

Daydreaming was for lunatics and little girls. Fantasizing about a past, a future, a world that could never truly exist was a fruitless method of murdering time. Abijah Fowler had time to kill. By his calculations, he had about eleven months to wrap his arms around and strangle the life out of. Abijah Fowler was not one to daydream. Instead, he chose to plot, to bide his time. By the time he stepped off this ship in London harbor he would have the upper hand over the crew, Mizu, and her little pet samurai.

“I shot another bird. Powder, lead ball, ramrod, flint, point, and shoot.” Mizu explained, dryly. This time she did not bring the bird with her.

“Well, I guess I know what lumps I’m getting in my prison stew today. Did you enjoy it at least? You talk about killing like it’s a shopping list.”

“There’s no joy in killing. Death is empty.”

“And yet, you’re responsible for so much of it.”

“Revenge is not a source of joy, only satisfaction.”

“Joyless satisfaction,” Fowler laughed, “you sound like a fucking Protestant.” Mizu raised an eyebrow, it was the most reaction he’d gotten out of her all week. A small victory. “You’ll love London, everyone there is miserable.”

“Is that what brought you to Japan? Misery?”

“I’m a simple man. I wanted to build my fortune. Much like you I had grand ambitions.”

“Revenge is not an ambition.” Mizu frowned, she was starting to get frustrated. A nice break in the monotony of traveling in a cage.

“Is it not? You trained yourself to use that pretty blue sword of yours. You learned how to find people, how to kill them. You’re crossing the ocean in a boat because the men you want to kill just might be on the other side of it. If that’s not ambition, I don’t know what is,” Fowler argued. Mizu was one of the most miserable people he’d ever encountered. Sometimes he wondered if the woman had enjoyed anything in her entire life. In a weird way it fascinated him. The devotion to misery she probably convinced herself was discipline.

“I don’t want to own the world.”

“Why the fuck not? You see, this is where we differ. I enjoy fucking. I enjoy killing. I enjoy being the master of my fucking destiny. If that makes me a monster, then so be it”

“I was born a monster. You chose to be one.”

“Suppose I did. Would you like to know what made me a monster?”

“Fine, since you seem so keen to talk about it.” Mizu sighed and crossed her arms. She wasn’t interested in the slightest but he was going to tell her anyways. Perhaps she’d squirm the way Taigen did when he ate the rat in front of him.

“You might think I’m from London but I’m not. My family was from Ireland and that’s where I grew up. We were at war with the English so naturally, they tried to starve us out. Overall I’d say they were successful. People ate plants and boiled their shoes. They butchered their dogs, and skinned their cats, and chased down every mouse and bird and insect they could get their hands on. Still, you’d see the corpses of my people by the side of the road. Skin hanging off their bones, not much else left on them. My parents died. Of starvation of course, like the rest. There was just me and my sister, left alone in the world to survive the winter. We ate every rat in the damn house. At first we’d roast the animals, eventually we gave up and ate them raw. Then the rats ran out. We lived a bit longer on leather and snow. The wind never stopped howling at our door. She grew weak, a shivering pile of bones growing thinner by the day. I kept her alive on my blood. That lasted a few weeks until the strength left her body. She died in her sleep. She weighed nothing, but waking up to her corpse was the heaviest feeling in the whole damn world. I waited for the ground to thaw, but it was a late spring. I was starving. I meant to bury her. I did. But before that I tore her open. Only fat in her body were the fat caps on her kidneys. I ate them before putting her to rest. Best thing I ever tasted.”

“I see.” Unlike Heiji Shindo, Mizu didn’t flinch. She was the first, everyone he told that story to reacted with some mixture of disgust and pity. Except for her. She stared back at him, her face empty of expression. She refused to look away.

“Starving taught me something about the value of life. It taught me that life is fucking cheap. To everyone around me, I was a demon who had tasted human flesh. But I’m alive and I make the most of it. I seek pleasure and power because I can. Because I want to. You’ll always be a demon Mizu. Everywhere you go you’re going to be different from the people around you and people hate feeling uncomfortable. There’ll never be a place where you truly belong.”

“I’m aware. And the people who made me this way will meet their end by my hand.” Mizu turned around, walking to the stairs and up to the deck of the ship.

“You don’t get it do you? What I’m saying is, just take what you fucking want from the world. You’re a killer. You burned a whole city to the ground. It’s always going to be a part of you whether you like it or not. Own it. Shame is for fools. You don’t owe them anything,” Fowler shouted, he made sure she heard him as she left.

In a way, Fowler looked forward to taking Mizu to London. Skeffington and Routley would be amused by the woman. The potential daughter of theirs. He needed to convince Mizu that he was useful to her. He looked forward to dressing her up and bringing their families all together. Routley’s wife would be horrified and Skeffington had several legitimate daughters which would all be unsettled at the idea of a foreign bastard. Would Mizu snap? Would she kill his former business partners who had hung him out to dry as they’d left him in Japan? If he played his cards right, Fowler would be able to both train a prodigy and do away with his business rivals. All he needed to do was to convince Mizu to embrace the worst parts of her nature. And so, instead of daydreaming, he began to plan.

Chapter 9: Mizu

Notes:

And finally, another chapter!

It was hard to find a quiet place on the ship. The sailors didn’t bother her, but the boat was an enclosed space and sitting along by a river or deep in the woods was not a possibility until they reached dry land. They were three weeks away from their next stop so it would be some time until she had her own space.

And so, Mizu tiptoed around the creaky boards of the ship. It reminded her of when she first came to swordfather’s forge. Master Eiji always knew where she was. She wouldn’t be surprised if he heard her footsteps all the way at the forge. He’d shake his head in disappointment at his misguided daughter. At this point she was a literal pain in his neck. But she continued to search the ship for a quiet space. It had to be away from Fowler. She would never admit it to his face, but the man was getting to her.

Mizu hated being asked what she wanted. It was a pointless question. She thought back to Madam Kaji’s speech about desire and knowing the shape of one’s soul. Mizu was a demon. She had no soul. What did it matter?

Revenge was the easy answer. Whenever asked about her desires, revenge was always her answer. It was a dark, cruel, and lonely path. But it was Mizu’s path. The only path that had ever been available to her.

Swordfather told her that the demon inside of her didn’t have to define everything about who she was. He still, in some part, cared about her. She would always let him down. He had Ringo now. Ringo had no demon in his soul.

Fowler was unapologetic about his cruelty. If the world saw her as a demon this was something to embrace according to him. She ought to take what she wanted from the world and never apologize for it. He certainly didn’t.

Mizu’s head ached. In her mind the two men were fighting each other and she was unsure which one would come out the victor. Mizu did not intend to become as depraved as Fowler, but swordfather’s ideals were a cliff too steep for her to climb. She was unworthy of a sword. But was she ever worthy of anything? Perhaps a gun. Impersonal. Unfeeling. Accuracy without purpose. And now she was adrift. Literally sailing on the ocean to a distant land halfway across the world.

Swordfather was unreachable and the sailors were strangers and Fowler was Fowler. Most of all, she could not talk to Taigen about this. Mizu wasn’t sure she’d call Taigen a friend, but she no longer considered him a nuisance or an enemy. He was a companion in some senses of the word. She enjoyed his company. She resented his company. He’d hurt her and he’d saved her and he seemed intent on following her. She wanted him to know her but if he ever truly knew her he’d never see her the same way again.

There was no way out. She and Taigen had months left until they reached London. Mizu could trick him and leave him stranded somewhere but that was cruel. Ringo would never forgive her for it and she dare not risk the wrath of princess Akemi. The trip would be awkward but she was not headed to London on vacation. She had men to kill.

One part of the ship Mizu had never been to was the kitchen. The ship already had a cook and with her lack of cooking skills she would only get in the way. No one would look for her there.

Mizu could smell the kitchen before she saw it. The scent of fish and rice and salt drifted in the slightly smoky air. There were bags of rice stacked up like walls to a maze. Dried fish hung from the ceiling. Despite the fish, Mizu didn’t think it smelled like Kohama. She could hide out here. She needed a place to think.

Crawling into a quiet place between stacks of rice bags she sat down. She let her hair out of the topnot and took off the scarf around her neck. No one else on the ship seemed to care but Mizu kept up her appearance when dealing with Fowler. She could not show herself as getting comfortable. If she was comfortable she was vulnerable, and if she was vulnerable that made her weak.

Fowler’s story about his childhood stuck to her. It felt like sticky rice at the back of the throat that refused to be washed down with tea. Madam Kaji warned her he’d eaten human flesh. It had been made obvious that Fowler was a man without honour or shame. Mizu had always thought of Fowler as a shadow, or a demon. She had never considered the fact that he had once been a child.

He wasn’t born a monster. He didn’t emerge from a crack in the earth as a demon. Fowler was a baby once. His family died. He survived. He could have done anything with his life but he chose to kill and rape and steal from others. Life is fucking cheap and he was there to cash in.

She hadn’t raped anyone and rarely stole unless she needed to, but she had certainly killed people. She rarely thought twice of slicing through the men who stood in the way of her revenge. It’s who she was. It’s what she knew how to do. Mizu was her quest. Revenge was her purpose. It had been a long time since she’d even considered any other possibility for herself.

Mizu rubbed her eyes. Could things have ever gone well with mama? With Mikio? Could she have gone back to Kohama and master Eiji’s forge? It didn’t matter. Those were closed doors in a town she could no longer see in the distance. No. London it was. Revenge it was. That’s all there was.

Were she not lost in thought, Mizu would have noticed the ship’s cook puttering about the kitchen. He was preparing dinner and reached over to grab a fish hanging from the ceiling above her.

“Hello there, you don’t look like a fish,” he said, noticing her hiding spot.

Startled, Mizu looked up to see the cook standing over her, fish in hand. He had green eyes.

Chapter 10: Mizu

Notes:

I'm not dead, I've just been busy at work. And here we go with another chapter! I guess we're up to 10 chapters up now.

As it turned out, the kitchen of the ship was not as quiet a place as Mizu had hoped. She looked up at the man standing over her. While she’d yet to meet all the sailors on the boat, she was certain she’d never seen him before. She would have remembered his face. He did not look like anyone else on the boat. The man standing over her was tall and thin. He was paler than Mizu. Some of his features were Japanese, but he, like her, had European heritage as well. He was the second person Mizu had ever seen with green eyes. The first was Fowler.

“No, I’m not a fish,” she stood up. Giving up on all pretense of being able to think in peace. “You must be the ship’s cook.”

“That would be me, Johannes of Rotterdam,” the cook smiled. He bowed to her, jokingly, “and you must be Mizu of Kohama.”

“How do you know my name?” Mizu’s eyes narrowed, she looked around for an exit but there wasn’t one. She was backed into a corner.

“Your stowaway friend. Taigen the fisherman. He helps me in the kitchen sometimes.” Johannes reached out to grab a few more dried fish from the ceiling.

“He’ll kill you if you ever call him that.”

“He told me he was once a samurai betrothed to a princess.”

“Did he tell you I ruined his life?”

“And his hair. He seemed more upset about that last bit.” Mizu bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Do you know how to cook?” He asked, laying the dried fish down on the counter.

“Not well.” Mizu thought back to the pathetic attempts at stews she made during her marriage to Mikio. No one on the ship knew about her marriage, the less people knew about her the better. “What else did Taigen tell you about me?”

“Oh, he complains about you lots. That you were a better swordsman than he could ever hope to be. That you’re rude and uncooperative. That you’re out for revenge and on your way to London. That he feels compelled to follow you there for some reason.” Johannes shrugged. He took a moment to stir a large pot that was bubbling over.

“There were four white men in Japan when I was born. All monsters. One of them was my father. All of them will die by my hand”

“It sounds like you had a very difficult childhood. I’m guessing you're excluding the Dutch merchants from the island of Dejima from those men you think are your father.” He fanned the pot with its lid, trying to cool down the boiling rice.

“Was one of them your father?” Mizu had to admit, she’d never thought of any other possibilities than Fowler and his cohort being the man who cursed her with life.

“My father was a sailor from Amsterdam. My mother grew up around Nagasaki and eventually married my dad and moved to Rotterdam.She’s a lovely half-Japanese woman, not unlike yourself.” Johannes’ green eyes saw right through her. She did not like it. He gave the pot another stir. The rice inside had calmed down.

“Is it obvious? What I am?”

“The blue eyes sort of give it away.”

“No, the other thing.” How much did he know? Johannes squinted, staring at her before realizing what he was looking at. She shouldn’t have said anything.

“That you’re a woman? I mean I know that now. Nobody mentioned anything.”

“Who else knows?” If she had to gut this cook and serve him to Fowler in a stew to dispose of the body that might be what she had to do.

“No idea, I just figured it out now. Your friend doesn’t know, does he?”

“And he’s not going to find out,” threatened Mizu.

“I certainly won’t tell him. More entertaining to see if he figured it out for himself. I don’t know much about Taigen. He’s good at slicing fish. Not sure if he’s as smart as one.” Johannes waved a dried fish around for dramatic effect. Mizu couldn’t help but laugh.

“He means well.”

“So do I. You can’t think your blue eyes are the first I’ve ever seen? My sister has blue eyes. So did my grandfather. Once you get to Europe you’ll see them everywhere.”

“I see.”

“Am I the first person you’ve seen with green eyes?” Johannes fixed his hair. It was black and straight but he wore it tied at the nape of his neck rather than in a topknot. Mizu wondered if it was a Western style.

“Second. The first is locked up in the cargo hold. Abijah Fowler.”

“Oh, the rat man has a name.”

“Rat man?” Mizu wondered what kind of gossip had been spreading aboard the ship.

“Taigen told me he was walking through the cargo hold and the man just killed a rat and ate it raw. No reason, he’s not being starved, he just wanted to kill something. Is my cooking really that terrible?”

“No. Fowler’s done worse things to people than he did to the rat.”

“Hmmm. Keep him in that cage.”

“These are the kinds of men I’m tracking down. One’s dead, Fowler’s here. He’s my path to the other two. In London.”

“Taigen mentioned London when he mentioned you. I don’t think he could find it on a map.”

“The where isn’t important. The who is.” Mizu was not inclined to admit that she also could not also find London on a map.

“Mizu, you’ve spent your entire life on an island that you’ve been told is the most important place in the world. Now you’re traveling to another island where the people have been told they live in the most important place in the world. Places have meaning. The world is big.”

“Have you ever been to London?”

“A few times. Picked up a bit of the language off of English sailors I worked with around Europe. This was my first trip to Japan. My mom shared stories with me and my siblings about her hometown. I was always too Japanese in Europe so I imagined what it would be like to live there. I got a chance to sail there. I wanted to see the place my mom grew up in. They wouldn’t let me out of the port so I snuck out. Wore red glasses to hide my eye colour. Country was beautiful. People never let me forget I was an outsider. Not the homecoming I thought it would be. Guess I’m going back to Rotterdam now. My family is there, it’s home enough.”

“Growing up in Kohama, I had no family. I was a dog. A half-breed. A demon.”

“Sounds miserable.”

“If I kill the man who made me this way, no one else needs to be miserable in this way.”

“Well then, I suppose they’ll find some other way to be miserable. Some people are hateful because they’re too scared to be anything else. Is this why you’re angry?” Johannes frowned, he looked disappointed.

“I guess I’ll find out when I get to London.” If Mizu wasn’t stuck on a ship she wouldn’t have time to philosophize about her life. Mizu hated having time to philosophize about her life.

Chapter 11: Mizu

Notes:

Yes, I know we have another Mizu chapter. Next time we'll get back to Taigen.

“You’re struggling.” Johannes frowned. Mizu did not want to admit he was right.

She found the cook unsettling. He was the first mixed-race person she had ever met. But he was nothing like her. He was more interested in rice than revenge. If anything he was a bit like Ringo, if Ringo were more shrewd and less of an optimist. He wasn’t as good of a cook as Ringo. At least not with the ingredients available aboard a ship.

“Hmm.” She sounded like swordfather. She was nothing like swordfather.

“Do you have any family back in Japan? You must have friends.”

“My mother’s dead. And soon I’ll find my father.”

“And that will make you happy?”

“I have no need for happiness. Only satisfaction.” Mizu sighed. Where she once stood confidently behind that statement, it now felt oddly hollow.

“Well Mizu, I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been treated like shit. Kids were mean to me growing up. They called me a mongrel, a half-breed, a freak. It hurt. But I knew at the end of the day I could always go home and that my parents loved me. Eventually I won at least some of them over. I went to Japan to see if I belonged there. The people were very clear to me that I did not. But I can come home to my family. I’m grateful for that. If someone threw rocks at my sisters, I’d throw them right back. You were alone with the rocks. I suppose, in that case, it’s hard not to sink.”

“So Dutch kids throw rocks too.” Mizu suppressed a laugh.

“As I said,” Johannes shrugged, “people are people. Doesn’t matter where you go. Someone’s going to throw rocks at you. It says more about the person throwing the rocks than it does about you. That’s what my mother always said.”

“Taigen threw rocks at me. When we were kids.” Mizu thought back to her childhood self. Alone and cold, trying to find scraps to eat and hide from the rain. Always running from stupid, smug Taigen and his even dumber friends. She looked around the kitchen, there was a mirror on one of the walls. She caught a glimpse of herself. She’d given herself bangs at the beginning of the trip. The same bangs she’d had as a child. Anyone who had seen her as a child would recognise her now.

“Would Taigen throw rocks at you now?” Johannes asked.

“No.” The boys who grew up in Kohama would, but not him anymore. The Taigen she’d met at the Shindo Dojo in the winter would have thrown rocks at her without a second thought. The Taigen aboard the ship had other things to think about. Though she wasn’t fully convinced he had outgrown being a bully.

“Progress. One less person throwing rocks is better than none.”

“I guess so.” She looked back at her reflection, she almost looked like her childhood self, Mizu figured she may as well finish the job. “Do you mind passing me the scissors on the wall?”

“Alright?” He handed them to her tentatively, “just don’t make a mess in my kitchen”. He went back to tending to the rice.

The mirror was large enough that she could see her head, neck, and upper body. Why it was hanging on the wall of a ship’s kitchen Mizu had no idea. Looking around, there were knick-knacks all over the kitchen. Many of which looked European.

With her hair already down it was easy to part, pulling half over one shoulder and half over the others. She slid her hair between the scissors, using her collarbone as a guide. The scissors were dull and her hair was thick. Mizu wished she’d had her sword on her. The clicking noises the scissors made were obnoxious. Whatever she was doing to her hair, she was making a mess of it.

“You can ask for help if you want. Even if you’re making impulsive decisions.” Now Johannes was starting to sound like swordfather. “Just sit and I’ll fix things. What are you trying to do?” He pointed to a stool. Mizu sat reluctantly. Despite being, to her knowledge, an only child, she felt as though she was being lectured by an older brother.

“I had bangs when I was a kid. My hair was shorter too. When I was really young my mother shaved my head because she wanted me to be a boy. There was a bounty for a girl. So I couldn’t be one.” She hadn’t told anyone this since Mikio, not even Ringo.

“So that’s why you keep your secret. One of many I presume.”

“One day the house burned down and I lived on the street until a blind sword maker took me in. I was his apprentice for many years. I left to go chase my revenge, give him the peace he deserves.”

“It sounds like you do have family in Japan.” Johannes studied her hair, looking at the mangled chunk and went to work on it.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not for you to say. Also please sit still or I will shave your head like your mother did.”

“Fine.” Mizu sulked. She was starting to act like a child. She felt safe enough to act like a child.

“Makes sense you want a fresh start, Mizu. You have more baggage than the cargo hold of this ship.” He’d make his way through about half of her hair. It looked like he was at least cutting in a straight line.

“Hmmm.” She thought back to Fowler’s coup in Edo and the great fire that followed. The fire she started. That world was now on a distant island far away from her. The only parts of it she missed were Ringo and swordfather.

Mizu never had a plan to go back and live a life after her revenge. Her plan was letting Taigen kill her and restore his honour after all four white men were dead by her sword. She had no place in the world so she had no plan. A growing part of it did want to make it back. To see swordfather again and care for him in his old age as he had cared for her. She could finish training Ringo. And Taigen- no, best not think about that. It was best not to get attached. She’d grown to love Mikio too and she would never forget where that got her. It was better not to plan beyond her revenge.

“Okay, I’m done. If you don’t like it, don't blame me for your impulsive decision.” Johannes went to grab a broom to sweep hair off the floor.

He’d done a better job with the scissors than her previous attempt. Her hair was shoulder-length and even. Mizu fished a strip of leather out from her clothes, tying her hair back at the nape of her neck. The same way she’d worn it when she’d started making swords with master Eiji.

Her hair was the same as it used to be, but the rest of her wasn’t. Mizu was taller and more sinewy than she was in her youth. She no longer had any fat in her cheeks. Her face looked hollow. All in all, Mizu was hoping to see something familiar when she looked in the mirror. Instead she saw the ghost of her childhood self.

Chapter 12: Taigen

Notes:

I've been in a writing mood so this is a two chapter weekend. Thanks for reading!!

It had been weeks since he’d held a sword. After years of steadily honing his craft, this was the longest he’d gone without training. Taigen’s sword had been a part of him. Fighting had been his identity. Losing his status as a samurai had been akin to losing a limb. Now on this ship he was not a samurai, not a ronin, not a warrior of any sort. He would join Mizu in his battles when they got to London, but for now he had nobody to fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taigen saw a piece of wood of about the same size and shape as one of the wooden swords they used to train with at the dojo. He went over to the other side of the dock of the ship to pick it up. The wood was hot from the sun and he could feel the splinters press into his palms. None of that mattered. It felt natural to hold a sword in his hand.

Looking down at his hands they were as square and stocky as ever. His father always told him he had workman’s hands. His sisters lamented having the same sort of hands, they were capable but inelegant. Akemi had the most beautiful hands Taigen had ever seen. They were tiny, and pale, and as soft as a baby’s. Mizu’s hands were almost as elegant, though they were longer and had none of the softness of Akemi’s. Fowler’s hands looked as though they were built to grasp one’s neck and choke the life out of it. They could have been workman's hands if Fowler was an honest man. He was not.

Considering how long he’d gone without fighting anyone, Taigen figured it best to stretch out with a few basic maneuvers. The beginner moves of Shindo-Ryu they taught at the dojo. Taigen closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and went through the motions. The piece of wood had become an extension of his arm. His feet were planted on the dock as though they had roots in the ground. Taigen was in his element. Nothing to prove. No one to impress. No one was watching.

From the Shindo-Ryu he moved into some different Rogen-Ryu moves. As he had lectured the students of the dojo, it was important to learn different styles of fighting. Each school has its own philosophy and its own way of moving. Growing up, Taigen never gave a shit about the philosophy behind the motions. Now, without the trappings of dojo politics and the shining promise of wealth and glory that came from being a great fighter, the philosophy was something to fall back into.

Ever since his first duel with Mizu, Taigen had lost every part of himself he had recognized. He’d lost his status as an undefeated warrior. A blow to his ego he would never forget. At the time he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone being better than him. He’d lost his honour and Mizu had mangled his hair. It was still an uneven mess and would take at least a few more months to grow into something respectable. From there he’d lost his place in the dojo. This was a material loss since he had nowhere to go afterwards. Then Akemi. His first love and his chance to marry up. That he’d felt guilty over. He ran off after deflowering her. He didn’t choose her. He chose his ego. In the end she was the one who married up and they’d grown apart. If he ever made it back to Japan he hoped they might be friends someday. All taken from him by the kid he’d thrown rocks at in his hometown.

Naturally, he’d tracked Mizu down. He set up a duel to regain his honour. Then he’d gotten captured by Heiji Shindo and was tortured for it. The funny part was that he’d known next to nothing about Mizu at the time. He remembered stabbing Heiji Shindo in Edo. Taigen had killed his share of people but Heiji Shindo was the most satisfying.

From the basic moves he went on to some of the more advanced fighting patterns he’d perfected over the years. With a skilled enough swordsman, a duel becomes a dance. Taigen had fought through a few good duels. None of his opponents had been as skilled or memorable as Mizu. He had strength and skill and a level of determination that made Mizu more of a force of nature than a backwoods swordsman from the outskirts of town. Ever since then he’d wanted to fight him again. At first it was the duel that he wanted, but more and more Taigen realized he wanted the dance. Trying to get to know Mizu was like scraping barnacles off the side of the ship. It was impossible to get anywhere and Mizu was incredibly stubborn. But with a sword in hand, the man was nearly unstoppable. It made him want to be a better fighter.

Taigen went through all the moves he knew. By the time he finished, the sun was starting to set. He’d been out all afternoon, somehow the world around him had slipped away. He needed to practice more. The piece of wood was a good substitute for a sword. He’d bring it back to his bunk and join the sailors for dinner. Afterwards he promised he’d help the cook with the dishes since he hadn’t done any work in the afternoon. Taigen mindlessly swung the wood back and forth on his way back to his bunk. At least until he heard a clang. He looked up, Mizu was there. He was carrying a bucket and mop. Taigen assumed he’d volunteered to wash the deck as he often did.

“Sorry about that Mizu, I didn’t see you coming.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t spill anything.” Mizu put down the bucket, dropping the mop inside.”

“I’d offer to help you with the deck but I promised the cook I’d wash dishes tonight.” Taigen explained, watching Mizu get started on mopping the deck. He looked focused as usual but he looked different. It took a moment for him to notice, “you cut your hair. I guess mangling mine wasn’t enough.” He’d meant it as a joke but it didn’t come out right.

“Hmmm,” Mizu answered, if you could call it an answer. Between the bangs and the shorter hair, Mizu looked softer, he looked less like a fearsome warrior and more like the child Taigen had terrorized in his youth.

“You’re spending too much time with Fowler. I think he’s getting to you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to say that, I know what he does to people. I was in his dungeon, remember? I wish I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Mizu looked up from his mopping. His eyes were truly striking, Taigen felt foolish ever calling them ugly or deformed.

“You weren’t the one torturing me. Speaking of Fowler, we should spar before we lose our sword skills. He might escape, chew through his cage like a rat or something.” Finally, he’d succeeded in making Mizu laugh. Looking at him now, Taigen realized he’d never seen him laugh as a child. He wondered if Mizu ever laughed as a child.

“I hate to say it Taigen, but I think you’re right. Maybe I’m spending too much time with the rat-eating cannibal.”

“Spar with me tomorrow, it’ll clear your head. And I need the practice. There’s no shortage of wood planks to practice with. How about tomorrow at sunset?”

“Sunset it is.”

Chapter 13: Mizu

Notes:

I can't believe I'm actually still writing this! I've reached the point where I actually have a planned ending for this story and a potential part II and epilogue. We'll see what happens.

Also, I'm thinking of giving the chapters actual titles beyond just numbers. Does it add anything to the story or should I just stick to chapter numbers?

Thanks for reading.

A plank of wood is not a sword.

Mizu had never trained in a dojo with wooden swords. She had known swords before knowing how to fight with them. She knew how to melt the metal in the forge, how to shape the metal into the blade of a sword, and how to assemble the parts into the weapon they were meant to be.

The planks of wood scattered aboard the ship were not swords, but since Taigen had suggested they spar she would have to make do. Her whole life in Japan had revolved around swords, mainly her own and how she intended to use it in order to achieve the revenge she sought. She’d abandoned her sword when boarding the ship. It was a part of her that no longer served her quest. But Taigen was right. Like him, she did not want to lose her skills. By losing her skills, her connection to the weapon that had forged so much of her life, she was losing a part of herself.

She had picked up at least a dozen planks of wood on the ship to find the right one. The best one to use as a sword would be the one that wanted to be a sword the most. Mizu thought of Swordfather. Had he ever fought with his own swords? She’d never thought to ask.

Eventually she’d chosen a piece of wood to play the role of a sword. Most wood on the ship was either too short or too long. Some of the planks left splinters in her hands. Others had weaknesses in the grain of the wood that would cause them to break on impact if pushed hard enough. The one she picked was an acceptable wooden sword, it did not aspire to be one but could function as one if not given any other paths. A spar was not a duel. Mizu was not looking to impale either Taigen or herself.

A friendly spar. Taigen may have had his share of experience with them at the dojo. In this area, Mizu was at a disadvantage. She’d tried to have a friendly spar exactly once. It was Mikio who had suggested it. Unfortunately, it had ended in a dreadfully unfriendly way. Mikio knew her as a woman but rejected her as a warrior, Taigen knew her as a warrior and she suspected he’d reject her as a woman if he ever found out.

Soon enough, the sun was dipping into the horizon. Some of the sailors were gathering on deck, she could hear them chatter about who they thought was going to win the fight. Young Ryo had set up a betting pool. They started cheering when Taigen showed up.

“We used to do this all the time at the dojo. Give the students some entertainment. Something to aspire to.” He was far more relaxed than he ought to be. Mizu couldn’t tell if he was trying to establish camaraderie or just getting cocky again.

Mizu nodded. She picked up the plank of wood. Taigen did too. It was impossible to forget their last battle in the snow. They were enemies there. He was her childhood tormenter and she the demon who ruined his life. That battle was a lifetime ago.

Looking around, she made sure she was in the middle of the deck. The last thing Mizu wanted was for either of them to end up going overboard.

Mizu was patient. Taigen made the first move. He charged right at her. She took a step back and dodged him.

She swung her plank of wood in front of her, blocking him from hitting her. Taigen took a step back to regain his footing. She swung. He dodged. He tried to hit her on the way back up. She ducked. There was chatter from the sailors cheering both the names.

He tried to disarm her again to no avail. Stepping to the side she was able to catch his plank. The wood he had chosen to fight with did not want to be a sword. An unfit weapon given no other choice due to lack of understanding. It was the right size and shape to be held as one, but it was weather beaten and unstable. They kept at each other. Mizu’s eyes remained on the plank of wood. It was Taigen’s main weakness. One he was likely unaware of.

They continued to trade blows. Mizu saw an opening to pin and disarm him. She pushed into the wood with force, almost knocking him over. He caught her. His timing was good. He’d kept up. They’d had a whole conversation without uttering a single word.

Taigen kept pushing forward. She’d have to push him back. They were getting too close to the side of the ship. Looking at his hands, Mizu could see splinters. She did not look at her own.

She took another step to the side, catching him ever so slightly off-guard. Slightly was more than enough. She lunged forward, pinning him to the deck. Mizu had kissed her husband in this position. She froze for a moment. She’d learned her lesson.

The moment of hesitation was just enough for Taigen to get back on his feet. He smiled. He had the upper hand and Mizu had to push back. She jumped back to her feet. She calculated that if she hit the plank hard enough, she’d knock his out of his hands, successfully disarming him.

With all her strength, Mizu swung the wood in her hands. Her plank hit his with as much strength as she could muster. She’d found the weakness and exploited it. Their spar was over.

It did not end as intended. Instead of flying out of his hands, the plank had shattered into shards of jagged wood. Jagged wood shards that had gotten under both of their skin and Mizu could feel the blood dripping down her face. Taigen had a chunk of wood lodged in his shoulder.

A plank of wood is not a sword. It was never meant to be a sword. Expecting it to be a sword would only lead to disappointment.

Chapter 14: Taigen

Notes:

Thanks for all the comments! The feedback is greatly appreciated

I decided not to name my chapters for now as I don't really have an idea for most of them but I may eventually change my mind.

Bit of a longer chapter, hope you enjoy!.

Green was a terrible colour to wear to a fight. Looking at his shoulder, Taigen could see exactly how much blood he’d lost due to the shard of wood currently lodged in his shoulder. Enough blood to make a mess, not enough to put him in any danger unless the wound got infected.

Mizu hadn’t fared much better. Along with several smaller pieces in his forearm had a long shard of wood jammed into the side of his forehead. His face was drenched in both sweat and blood.

There was chatter among the sailors who had come to watch them. No one had made money off the betting pool. Apparently the plank of wood he’d used as a wooden sword shattering and injuring both of them was not an outcome anyone expected, least of all Taigen. Ryo had run off to fetch his father as the crew argued with one another. Daisuke had taken one look at them and sighed. He waved at them, telling them to follow him down to the kitchen where they could patch themselves up. Walking was okay, it only hurt when he tried to move his arm.

Down in the kitchen Johannes was waiting for them with a table covered in medical supplies. He exchanged some words with Daisuke in a language Taigen didn’t understand. He assumed it was Dutch. The men laughed, pointing at him and Mizu before Daisuke left with two pots of stew for the crew’s dinner.

“Another day, another mess in my kitchen.” The cook rolled his eyes. Despite being only two years older than Taigen he sounded like an exhausted father as he brought up a glass bottle with clear liquid inside and three glasses. “In front of me I see two foolish children who have made the unwise decision to spend their free time hitting each other with sticks. I don’t like needles and I’m not good with open wounds so you’re going to clean each other up and then you are going to stay out of trouble for at least one week. Also, one of you has to feed the rat eater his dinner tonight.” Mizu nodded at the cook’s instruction. Blood dripped down his face as he did. He inspected his wounds in the mirror.

“I’ll fix up your shoulder first Taigen. I should be able to sew my face back together but I might need your help getting the wood out of my arm.”

“Sew your face together? Mizu, are you crazy? That sounds terrible, I’ll take care of it.” Taigen had seen his share of injuries at the dojo but he’d never had to sew himself back together and he wasn’t about to put Mizu in that situation. Looking up at Mizu, he was plucking out the wood in his forehead, pressing a few bandages around the wound on his face to stop it from bleeding all over the kitchen.

“This might help with the pain.” Johannes poured out three glasses of the white alcohol and took a shot for himself.

“That’s not sake.” Taigen sniffed the glass, it had a bizarre herbal smell.

“Nope, it’s jenever, a Dutch liquor. Tastes like home.” Johannes explained, Taigan took a swig from his glass. He spat it out immediately.

“Your home tastes disgusting.” Taigen tried not to breathe as he gulped down. It dripped down his throat leaving it warm and numb.

“I don’t drink,” Mizu stared suspiciously at the glass, “but this should be okay to clean wounds with.”

“Of course. And I’m still happy to pour you a glass if you change your mind about being in pain sober.”

“I’ll live, I’ve been through worse.”

“You mean you’ve put yourself through worse.”

“He really has.” Taigen wondered how many injuries Mizu’d had over the years. Especially before he’d met Ringo who seemed to be at least partially able to hold him back from complete recklessness.

Mizu studied his shoulder, his fingers tracing around the shard of wood. He tugged on Taigen’s collar and tried to loosen his clothes, but the wood was still stuck. Mizu untied his belt, undoing his yukata and juban in order to get a better look at his shoulder. His hands were steady and methodical. Taigen felt his cock stir but bit his lip to distract himself. There was something about Mizu that always managed to get some sort of reaction out of him. None of the men at the dojo had ever made him feel that way. He tried not to think about it.

“Sorry Taigen, this is going to hurt,” Mizu explained. He yanked the piece of wood out of his shoulder before Taigen had time to react. Taking the wood out of his shoulder felt as much of being stabbed as being impaled by it in the first place. He felt the blood dripping out and heard the cook throw up in a bucket behind him. Mizu folded up a cloth bandage and pushed it onto the wound. From there he wrapped his shoulder up tightly with another bandage.

“It’ll take a few minutes for the blood to slow down. After that I’ll clean the wound and sew you up.” With that, Mizu rolled up his sleeve and pulled the remaining splinters out of his forearm. He did not so much as flinch. They were not so large that they needed to be sewn up. He washed the wounds, disinfected them with some of the jenever and bandaged himself up.

Once he’d fixed up his arm, Mizu unwrapped the bandages at Taigen’s shoulder. The bleeding had stopped but it was a large deep gash. Taigen looked away. He could hear Johannes puking in the bucket for a second time and this time he ran out of the room. He closed his eyes as Mizu washed out the wound and flinched when he rubbed it with the alcohol. Taigen took deep breaths as Mizu worked the needle through his skin, sewing him up. He said nothing, his eyes focused on the task at hand. If it were Ringo patching him up he’d either be humming or babbling on about something funny that happened to him. He missed Ringo. He especially missed Ringo’s cooking.

Once Mizu had sewn him up, he got new bandages from the pile Daisuke had supplied and patched up his shoulder. By then the cook had come back with clean clothing for him. He was sore but able to dress himself. Mizu had sat himself down in front of the mirror, dipping the needle in the alcohol before threading it. He took a deep breath.

“Mizu wait, let me. I’ve sewn up plenty of people at the dojo.”

“It’s fine Taigen, I know what I’m doing.”

“I know, just let me do this for you. Let me patch you up.” Taigen pulled up a stool beside him. Sparring had been his idea, if anything he’d be the one who needed to clean up the mess.

“Alright,” Mizu relented, “then I can clean myself up and go give Fowler his supper.”

“Actually, I have an idea,” the cook chimed in.

“What does that mean?” Ideas were never a good idea when it came to dealing with Fowler.

“When I was a kid growing up in Rotterdam, I was bullied quite a bit for my looks. Mostly harmless, mainly got teased for having slanty eyes. But this one brat insisted on making my life miserable. His name was Willhelm and he was the cheesemonger's son, pretty sure he bullied me so no one bullied him for stinking of cheese all day. This kid followed me everywhere until one day he and his buddies pushed me into the canal. I swam off and hid but watching him, I saw the panic on his face when he thought he’d killed me. So I avoided him for a month during the day. I’d paint myself up as a drowned ghost and stand in his window every night that month. At the end of the month, I fell through his window and he pissed himself. Since then everyone called him bedwetter Willy. He never teased me again.” Taigen felt an odd kinship with bedwetter Willy.

“Nice story, what’s your point?” Mizu raised an eyebrow, the one not covered with blood.

“The point is, Taigen patches you up and I dress up your wounds to make them look worse than they are and we see if that gets you a reaction out of the rat eater and he tells you anything useful he hasn’t told you before.”

“Absolutely not-”

“Do it.” Mizu nodded.

“We’ll clean you up and get you fresh clothes after, he’s in a cage. You’re not in any more danger than usual.”

Taigen hated this idea. He wouldn’t want to be alone with Abijah Fowler, having dealt with his torturer had been enough for one lifetime. Still, Mizu was stubborn and he knew he had no way of talking him out of it. For now, he’d patch him up and hope for the best.

“What happened to bedwetter Willy?” Taigen asked, unwrapping the bandages on Mizu’s face. He had stopped bleeding but the bandages were covered in blood. He brushed the hair out of his face to wash his wounds. It was matted with blood and sweat and plastered to the side of his face.

“Oh, these days he’s a cheesemonger in Rotterdam. Funnily enough we eventually became friends. We have drinks everytime I go back to visit.” Taigen still didn’t know what a cheesemonger was but he thought it too embarrassing to ask.

Back to Mizu, he washed out the gashes on his face. Taigen would have to sew him up. Taigen laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Mizu glared at him, wincing slightly as Taigen started sewing him up.

“I used to fantasize about killing you. I feel like an idiot.”

“Hmmm.” Mizu blinked. Taigen continued to sew up his face. He wondered how many times Mizu had had to do this to himself. Luckily the wood shards had not hit anything important and aside from a few scars neither of them would have lasting injuries. He sewed up the last of his wounds. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for sewing up my shoulder.”

“Okay, you two look good. Maybe don’t do any heavy lifting in the next week or so, or until you heal up.” Johannes had arrived with what looked like charcoal, chalk, a blood-soaked bandage, and some paint brushes.

“If Mizu’s entertaining Fowler, I can help you with some light cleaning,” Taigen offered. The cook nodded.

“I won’t say no to a bit of help with cleaning up these bandages. Mizu I’ll get you some cleaning supplies for once you’re done. That and a change of clothes.”

“Alright.” Mizu looked down at his yukata, the blood from his forehead had pooled down the front and it would need to be washed. He sat as still for Johannes as he had for Taigen as the cook painted up his wounds to make them look worse. He dusted Mizu’s face with a bit of chalk and smudged a bit of charcoal under his eyes to make him look even more tired and pale than he already was. He was starting to look like a ghost who had been violently murdered.

“I bet most people in your life think your hair is both black and straight when in reality it’s a dark brown and has a bit of a wave to it.” Johannes untied Mizu’s hair. It was just long enough to brush the top of his shoulders and wavier than Taigen had previously noticed. “My sister’s hair is exactly like yours, aside from being longer and in better condition. Actually all of her is in better condition because she actually takes care of herself.”

“Is that the sister with blue eyes?” Mizu asked as the cook mixed blood and charcoal into his hair to make it look as though he’d been mauled. Johannes had told Taigen about his two sisters: Agata and Cornelia who now both lived in Amsterdam.

“Yes. Now that I think of it she’s quite a bit like you in many ways. Cornelia has hair like yours and blue eyes, though hers are rounder and she has a round face like my mother’s while yours is quite sharp. She’s about your height. Incredibly stubborn and single minded, though she is very much a woman in society and her main goal in life was to marry above her station. If she were raised a boy in Japan without a family perhaps she’d have grown up just like you.”

“Did she marry well?”

“Of course. She wouldn't settle for anything else. Her husband is a rather ambitious merchant, he’s not a good man but he’s good to us.” Taigen wondered if Akemi and Johannes’s sister would get along. He watched as the cook dribbled some more blood on Mizu’s clothing for good measure until he’d finished his art project.

“Please tell me you feel better than you look.” Somehow, Johannes had gotten Mizu to look as though he were on the verge of death with a huge head wound that looked infected, pale and clammy skin, matted sticky hair, and bloody clothing.

“I feel fine,” Mizu looked into the mirror to look at his face, slightly startled by his reflection.

“Here’s dinner for the rat eater. Good luck.” Mizu took a tray with Fowler’s soup and tea and headed towards the cargo hold.

One day Taigen would build up the courage to follow him down there.

Notes:

Bit of a PSA: if you have or are treating an impalement wound and have the option of modern medical care DO NOT remove the object. Get yourself or the patient to emergency services or a hospital if they are available. Most first aid and lifeguarding courses will teach you this. Do not try this at home.

Chapter 15: Fowler

Notes:

I hadn't intended to write anything until the weekend but this chapter came to me so voila. Hope you enjoy.

Dinner was late.

For nearly every night he’d been aboard the ship, Fowler’d been presented with a bowl of stew, a slab of hardtack, and a mug of tea before the sun’s rays completely slipped out of the cargo hold.The tea was always weak. Sometimes the stew had lumps of fish or preserved meat in it. Sometimes it was rice and broth and softened hardtack. The hardtack always had weevils. Dinner was always delivered by sailors. Never the same one two days in a row. He’d yet to meet the cook. He wouldn’t mind putting a face and a name to the terrible stews he’d endured for the past few weeks.

Tonight was different. All evening there had been no one around the cargo hold. He’s heard a lot of commotion above him. At one point he heard yelling. Something had broken on the deck. After that, the normal noises from across the ship resumed but his dinner never arrived. Until he heard footsteps and looked through the bar of his cage to see a shadow in the dim light. It was Mizu, carrying a dinner tray. On occasion Mizu would bring him his dinner and watch him grimly as he ate. He’d watch her, often trying to get a rise out of her but rarely got more than a glare back. This could be the night where he succeeded.

“Why don’t you look absolutely ghastly?” Even in the sparse light of the candle she held, Fowler could tell that something had happened to her. Clearly she had been stabbed or impaled and had lost a lot of blood. She had a deep gash on the side of her head, her hair plastered with blood against her face and neck. This was the first time Fowler had ever seen Mizu with her hair down or without a scarf around her neck. Her face was paler than usual and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes were drenched in blood. She looked as ill as he’d ever seen her. He suspected her wounds were infected. She slipped the tray of food into the cage. One of her arms was heavily bandaged. It wasn’t her sword arm.

“Lost a fight,” Mizu confessed.

“How?” It seemed odd to Fowler that she’d lose a fight to a sailor, or even her pet samurai. She was easily the best fighter on the ship.

“I was outnumbered. I don’t have a sword.” Normally she’d stand stiff as a prison guard while watching him eat but today she slumped against a stack of boxes. He took a spoon of the meager, unseasoned stew. It was cold. It had lumps in it of origins he’d prefer to remain a mystery.

“You need my help.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you.” She sounded more tired than angry. It was the closest he had seen her to being weak.

“Perhaps that’s true. But let’s not pretend you hesitated for a second to jump on this ship. Here you are. And London’s still a far way off.”

“Once I get to London, I will find the men I seek. And I will kill them.”

“Do you think London is the root of all evil?” Fowler took a swig of the tea. It was as cold as the stew.

“Enough of it. Those evil men who seek nothing but power and greed and blood.”

“You say that as though you’re not seeking blood yourself.”

“Revenge is enough. I’ll be satisfied once I kill these men. They won’t be monsters anymore.”

“Yes, but you still have to make it there. Can’t let the crew tear you to shreds by the time you reach the shore. I mean, look at you. You’re all battered up. You’ve never looked more like your mother.” Mizu stood up with a start. She walked over, glaring into the cage, her blue eyes staring at him as though she wished to set him on fire with her gaze.

“What do you know about my mother?” Mizu’s voice cracked amidst her anger. Her mother. That was her weak spot.

“Likely more than you ever will. As I told you, it was that opium smoking maid of yours who raised you. You don’t remember your mother. But I bet she never forgot about you.”

“Because I am a demon, brought into the world against her will.” Mizu’s hands shook ever so slightly. He was getting to her. He started to laugh.

“Oh Mizu, of all her children, you were probably the only one she actually wanted.”

“She wouldn’t want children with those white devils who seek nothing but power.” Fowler almost felt sorry for the woman. She was so fully convinced of her path in the world. Too bad it was built on a lie. A lie he was about to bring to light.

“You still don’t get it do you? Power is power. It knows no race, no sex, no faith. It only knows what it wants and it always wants more.”

“You and your ilk came to Japan because you wanted more. My mother never had the choice.” Mizu grabbed the bars to his cage. Were the walls not there she might have tried to strangle him.

“I suppose you do make a point there. Your mother was a pretty girl with bad luck. Japan does not have a monopoly on those. You’ll meet many in London if you’re still alive by the time we reach that distant shore.” He grabbed her fingers through the bars of the cage. Her hands were clammy. She pulled back.

“My mother’s in London?”

“I haven’t got a clue. Pieces of her maybe. Perhaps she’s being kept as a curiosity. I’m sure plenty of powerful men in London would be glad to keep you as one too.” Fowler took a last sip of his tea, sliding the tray out towards Mizu. She picked it up and left. Her hands were shaking. He’d cracked her. Shattered the very foundation of who she thought herself to be. Only time would show him where the pieces fell.

Chapter 16: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

It must have been the middle of the night. When Mizu got to the deck of the ship it was dark and empty with only the stars for light. She’d spent far too long with Fowler and even longer cleaning herself up afterwards. Her face was raw from scrubbing. She’d nearly reopened her stitches. It had been the first time she’d worn any type of makeup since her failed attempt to save her doomed marriage. Her hair was still damp, though she figured it would dry quickly in the warm sea breeze. Whatever Johannes had put in it was disgustingly sticky and had taken over an hour to clean out. Her arms were sore from scrubbing and was relieved to finally have a chance to sit out in the night. There was a light breeze on the ocean. They were headed South and would reach their first stop of Batavia soon. The winds were warmer than they were in Japan.

Daisuke had found her an old brown yukata to wear until she had a chance to clean the blood out of her clothes. It was slightly long on her and had clearly belonged to someone much more heavyset. Mizu could not complain, it hid her figure well. The heavy fabric had a musty smell that reminded her of a blanket Swordfather had given her the first winter she’d stayed with him. She was cold and always slept by the fire that first winter, she was always waiting for him to change his mind about her and tell her to leave. On one especially cold winter night Swordfather approached her; “it would be nice if my apprentice didn’t freeze to death,” he’d said. He’d brought her a blanket and a cup of tea. It was the first time he’d referred to her as his apprentice.

Johannes had been thoughtful enough to save her some dinner. She’d had cold stew washed down with warm tea. A late dinner was better than no dinner at all. The cook had asked about Fowler. Mizu told him she needed to digest everything he’d told her. He’d given her a second cup of tea with a slab of hardtack. She took the tea and left the hardtack. She drank in silence. She thanked the cook and wandered up to the deck. Mizu sat down and looked up at the stars. She could hear the waves lapping against the side of the ship.

Mizu knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep easily that night. Fowler could have been lying to her but somehow his words had opened her up to possibilities she had never considered. Her mother might still be alive, maybe even in London. She might have half-siblings somewhere. She may have inherited her blue eyes from her mother, in which case none of the men she sought to kill were actually her father. Mizu still saw herself as a demon, but perhaps she was not the demon she’d always thought herself to be.

Violet, Fowler, Routley, Skeffington, these were not innocent men. In some way or another, they were responsible for her existence. Selling opium, weapons, and whatever else would make them rich at the expense of the Japanese. They would still die by her hand. But would it be as satisfying, not knowing if any of these men were actually her father? It mattered little whether they were selling and profiting off of Japan’s unwanted daughters or their own.

Mama, who she now knew was not her actual mother, had no problem selling her into marriage. It was fine, until it was good, until it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. For a while, her quest for revenge had ended. Mama was there, she had no one to avenge. For all her flaws, Mizu couldn’t bring herself to hate the woman. She’d loved her to the best of her abilities, in spite of her true love being the opium pipe. It was a sickness she was unable to escape, one she was willing to sell her own body, live, and die for. It was not the opium pipe that killed her in the end. Mizu would never be able to forget the sound of mama’s screams as Mikio killed her. She’d never even learned the woman’s true name.

Mizu hadn’t hated being a wife. She hadn’t hated her life on the farm. She hadn’t hated Mikio, she’d even grown to love him before he betrayed her. But he betrayed her and that was all that mattered in the end. Vengeance had become her only path forward, and she’d become whoever she needed to be in order to take that path. Now she wondered if even that path meant anything.

Looking around, she saw another figure in the darkness. She stood up and tiptoed over to see who it was. Taigen. Of course it was Taigen. He was sitting against the mast of the ship with a cup of tea.

“Can’t sleep either huh,” she sat back down. She was careful not to sit too close to him.

“I’m never drinking jenever again. It tasted bad and it feels worse,” Taigen grimaced. He did look a bit nauseous and that alcohol smelled like herbs and misery. The one clean yukata Daisuke had found for Taigen was red. At least it had originally been red. It had so many patches that it was easy to forget its original colour. Mizu remembered him wearing red as a child.

“Glad I don’t drink.”

“Guess something else is keeping you up,” Taigen’s stomach made a terrible gurgling noise, Mizu almost wished she’d drunk some of the dreadful Dutch alcohol to distract herself from her thoughts.

“Fowler told me a lot of things. Possibilities I never considered.”

“What kind of possibilities?”

”That my mother wanted me. That she was a pretty girl with bad luck. That she might be in London and she might be alive.” Part of Mizu wanted to cry. Part of her was too tired. Part of her didn’t dare.

“Think he’s lying?”

“I wish I did.” Mizu stared blankly at the horizon, curling her toes into the deck of the ship, “what if my mother was from London, not my father?”

“Does that change anything? In that case your father would be from Japan.”

“In that case who am I avenging?” She asked. More to the wind than to Taigen. She’d built her life around an idea. Now she’d learned it may not be the truth. Did it really matter if she’d made herself into the world’s greatest swordsman if she killed the wrong people?

Taigen laughed, “I know what it's like to believe something and be completely wrong.”

“And how did that turn out for you?”

“I’m still finding out. I guess that’s why I followed you,” Taigen confessed, “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life.”

“Hmmmm.” There were a lot of things Mizu could have teased him about if she wished but she was too tired and it felt pointless.

“I thought I wanted to be great. Achieve wealth and status. Become a legendary warrior. Marry a beautiful noble girl who never questioned me and be welcomed into her father’s household. Punish anyone who threatened that place I’d fought so hard to get to. I never wanted to see Kohama again.”

“Once master Eiji took me in I never went back to Kohama until Ringo brought us there.” Mizu couldn’t fault Taigen for not wanting to return to their hometown.

“I used to think I hated fishing, that I hated boats, that I needed to get away from it all. But now that I’m here, on this ship, I realized I don’t hate those things at all.”

“You’re a natural sailor, Taigen. The crew loves you.” He smiled at her assessment of his sailing skills. Of course he still had a bit of an ego, he was still himself.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he laughed sheepishly, “it wasn’t boats I hated. It wasn’t even fish. It was powerless. It was being poor, scared, and helpless. My father felt powerless over his lot in life, so he took it out on me and I took it out on you. Mizu, I am so sorry for how I treated you when we were younger. I don’t think I ever apologized to you but I owe you at least that. You asked me what I was wrong about Mizu, I was wrong about you. You’re not a demon and you’re not a dog. Sometimes you’re a stubborn idiot. Usually you’re a great swordsman. Maybe you’ll be more than your revenge quest. I hope you find more in your life than satisfaction from achieving revenge.”

Mizu’s eyes widened. She had no idea what to expect from Taigen, but she never expected an apology. Apologies happened so infrequently that she was not versed in knowing how to respond to them.

“Heck, you know what? Forget that duel. I’m happy to spar again. Johannes showed me that there are actual swords in the cargo hold, we can use those once we’ve healed up. I think we can make each other better swordsmen, I look forward to it. But screw the duel, I don’t want to die and I don’t want to kill you. That’s not something I want anymore, not for me and not for you.”

“What do you want from me, Taigen?” No duel meant no clean way out of this world should she succeed in her quest.

“I guess, maybe I want to be your friend.” Mizu found herself smiling reluctantly. She started laughing, Taigen laughed too. Mizu had no idea where things were headed, but for this moment at least she was not alone in the dark.

Notes:

Sooo, let’s talk about timelines. I’ve been trying to figure out how long it would take to travel between London and Japan in the 17th century. From there I learned that it was more likely to travel from the Netherlands to Japan since the Dutch were the ones trading with the Japanese at the time (don’t worry, by the end of this fic they will very much reach London though not without detours). Approximations of the trip I’ve seen ranged from 5-11 months with a variety of trade routes. Places they could have stopped (and will visit in this fic assuming I finish it which i hope I do) are Batavia (modern day Jakarta, Indonesia), Mauritius, Cape Town (in South Africa), Goree (in modern day Senegal), then back to the Netherlands. In this fic they’re going to Amsterdam before going to London.

My math here is incredibly crude, I’m assuming a merchant ship with the capacity to travel approximately 120 miles/day and converting from nautical to regular miles for simplicity’s sake. Between Nagasaki and Batavia is 3,086 miles so 26 days of travel at a good pace. I’m giving them a little over a month. Between Batavia and Mauritius is 3,437 miles, so 29 days. So far this voyage would be about two months. Between Mauritius and Cape Town is 3,067 miles so 26 days for this leg of the trip. Between Cape Town and Goree is 5,127 miles so about 43 days here. From Goree to Amsterdam is 3474 miles so 29 days. Finally, from Amsterdam to London is 352 miles so 3 days. Assuming no stops this brings us to a total of 156 days or between 5 and 6 months. For the purpose of this fanfiction the timeline of the voyage will be approximately 7 months because of stops and not every day would be exactly the same in terms of wind speeds. Disclaimer that these are very basic calculations and I am not a historian nor an expert on sea travel.

Chapter 17: Taigen

Notes:

Note: this chapter is M-rated rather than T like the previous chapters.

Taigen had a problem. He wanted something he didn’t understand. He wanted something he had no reason to want.

His shoulder was slowly healing after his unfortunate spar with Mizu, who every so often, was thoughtful enough to check his wounds. Mizu’s wounds had healed faster, and he was back to training. Johannes had forced him to use a wooden sword rather than a metal one. “Don’t poke holes in the ship. These wooden boards are the only thing keeping us afloat and you will not get your beloved revenge by sending us all to the bottom of the ocean,” he’d warned. His older brother had used a similar tone with him when Taigen was a child. Mizu had reluctantly agreed. Taigen would occasionally watch him train, itching to fully heal so he could join him.

Taigen had dreamt of Mizu often since their fight at the dojo. At first these dreams involved jamming his sword into him and taking back his honour by force. Then, he’d had dreams of following Mizu. Now they were friends, and his dreams went in an entirely different direction.

He hadn’t noticed it was a dream at first. Mizu was checking his stitches, running his long, elegant hands next to the scar. His touch was gentle, just firm enough so that Taigen was unable to forget where his fingers were. His hands were not just those of a warrior but those of a sword maker as well.

“How did you know my sword would break?” He’d asked.

“You chose a plank of wood that did not want to a sword. It was sold a lie and given no other option but to act as one until the pressure was too much and it shattered,” Mizu explained. His fingers exploring Taigen’s chest. He hoped they never stopped.

“What does a plank of wood want to be if it doesn’t want to be a sword?”

“I don’t know, ask a carpenter.”

“Swords are all you know.” Taigen could feel himself react to Mizu’s touch; he tried not to look down.

“I know more about swords than you ever will,” Mizu looked down and laughed. Those deft fingers of his untying the knots in his pants before tracing themselves up and down the shaft of his swollen cock. Mizu smirked; he was not lying about knowing how to handle a sword. Taigen could feel the calluses on his elegant fingers, he’d never wanted to be touched by anything else more. Mizu looked him in the eye, unblinking, licking his lips for a trace of a moment. His tongue was softer than his hands and just as agile. Taigen could feel him licking up and down his cock as though it were a delicacy. Mizu’s hands moved to his balls, squeezing them, almost but not quite to the point of pain. Taigen was not in control. He did not want to be. He came in Mizu’s mouth, who then swallowed hungrily as though he was ready to devour Taigen himself.

It was then that Taigen fell out of his bunk and woke up with a start. His pants were soaked. He snuck out to wash them before anyone noticed what he was doing. He could not go back to sleep. He would not. But he had to do something.

According to Daisuke, they would be reaching Batavia within a matter of days. The other islands of Indonesia were now visible in the distance during the day. It was not yet sunrise when Taigen snuck out of the sleeping quarters to wash his pants. He’d set nets out to catch fish which was a perfect cover for sneaking around. Bringing up the nets, they had enough fish to serve for breakfast. Gutting fish was a perfect distraction. Taigen desperately needed a distraction. He hacked off the head of a fish, sending it flying across the room.

“You’re getting awfully physical with that fish,” Johannes picked up the fish head, signed and tossed it in a pot to make broth with later, “sounds like you had a rough night.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had weird dreams.” Not even the threat of being tortured in Fowler’s dungeon again could get him to share what he’d been dreaming about.

“Fair enough, you seem…quite frustrated with something.”

“I guess I’m frustrated at not being able to sleep.” Taigen stabbed another fish. He ripped its innards out. Frustrated wasn’t quite the right word. Confused might have been a better one.

“If you need to let off some steam, you’re welcome to whack some of the weevils out of this hardtack before I put it in the stew to soften.”

“I hate hardtack.” He’d never missed Ringo’s cooking more than he did at mealtimes while choking down hardtack stew.

“Taigen, everybody hates hardtack. Only the weevils like hardtack.”

“At least the weevils know what they want in life.” Taigen whacked a piece of hardtack against the ship’s counter, a cloud of weevils scuttered into the wood.

“Do you know what you want in life?” The cook raised an eyebrow.

“I used to. I don’t anymore. Say Johannes, have you ever met anyone who came into your life and changed everything about it, and you hate them for it, and you love them for it, and you never want to live without them?”

“Not really, that sounds a little intense for my liking. But you are an intense person, so it makes sense for you to want.”

“I never said it’s what I wanted.”

“Not in those words.” Johannes tossed a few more pieces of hardtack into the fish broth, skimming dead weevils off the top. “I know what you want, well, who you want. But don’t worry I can keep a secret.”

“There’s no secret to keep, I think I’ve just been on this ship too long. I need to see a woman.” Taigen hadn’t seen a woman since boarding the ship. Wherever his mind wandered about Mizu had to be a consequence of that. Clearly the man had an effect on him, but he’d never felt that way about a man before. Perhaps this was the legendary warrior’s bond he’d heard so many stories about. Whatever it was, Taigen did not want to dwell on it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see a woman soon enough.” The cook added a last touch of salt to the stew. It was time for breakfast.

Chapter 18: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks for everyone who has been reading! I edited the tags for the fic and may change title names to whoever's POV the chapter is in. Hope you enjoy.

“You wear those glasses like they’re armor,” Daisuke noted. It was easy to forget the old sailor was also the captain of the ship. Mizu stared at her reflection in the water as the ship docked. They’d reached Batavia. She hadn’t worn her orange-tinted glasses since leaving Japan. They felt awkward on her face.

“They are,” she gestured to her clothes. The scarf around her neck, her bound chest, her cloak, her baggy clothes, and broad sunhat were as much a part of the costume as the glasses, “it’s all armor.”

“Most people don’t see what they aren’t looking for if they’re not forced to confront it,” Daisuke argued.

“I’ve learned not to take that risk.” Instead Mizu had taken the risk of taking a Dutch merchant ship to London rather than Fowler’s smuggling ship. Ringo had personally drugged Fowler to move him and his things, and as far as she was aware he did not know he was no longer on his own ship. She owed Ringo for negotiating with the sailors to coordinate the voyage. Along with English, it would probably serve her to learn how to speak Dutch.

“You’ve survived for this long. It would be foolish to think less of you based on what it took for you to do so.” He studied her, same as he did back in Nagasaki where they’d first made arrangements about sailing to Europe.

“You said there was a man I needed to meet.” Mizu remembered the first time Daisuke got a glimpse of her blue eyes and looked at her as though he’d seen a ghost.

“My old friend from Nagasaki. His name is Kaito, he owns a bar popular with Japanese sailors. If you go down the main canal, take a right, then a left, then go up past the Chinese quarter you’ll find it. The place doesn’t open for a few more hours but tell him I sent you when you go. He may have information on the men you seek to kill,” Daisuke explained.

“If I may ask, how do you know about the men I seek to kill? You knew the name Abijah Fowler long before we stuffed him in the cargo hold of your ship.” Mizu watched some of the sailors leaving the ship. She could see Taigen and Johannes chatting as they headed off down the dock.

“Technically I’m the captain of this ship, but I’m not the owner. The Dutch trading ships are owned by merchants, if not individually than by the Dutch East India Company. These traders are limited by the rules of the Dejima imposed by Japanese authority. The men you seek to kill have a lot more freedom. They don’t follow the rules. Not a single merchant trading at the Dejima will shed a tear at the loss of their less scrupulous business rivals.”

“Mercenaries are rarely mourned.” Mizu could not help but think of Heiji Shindo. She doubted he was missed by many.

“We’ll be in town for a few days, you should go out and see it. Get some fresh air,” Daisuke suggested.

Mizu thanked him and went on her way. She’d taken some local currency in case she needed to buy anything and borrowed a kitchen knife wrapped up in bandages since she didn’t have a sword with her. She hadn’t worn her weights due to the heat and almost considered not wearing her cloak. Almost. Aside from the sunburn on her face and wearing her hair in the same style as she had in her youth, Mizu looked the same as she did when she first boarded the ship over a month ago.

Stepping off the ship, she could hear the wooden planks of the docks creaking beneath her feet. It took Mizu a moment to acclimatize herself to standing on solid ground again. She took a deep breath and looked around her. The world was orange through her glasses. She was no longer used to it. She’d let her guard down on the ship but could not do so here.

The docks were loud and crowded. Mizu had seen boats before but she’d never heard so many languages and seen so many types of people. She could hear conversations from the ship docked next to Daisuke’s. She could make out about half of what they were saying. They must have been Chinese. They had some similarities in their features, but they dressed differently than the Japanese sailors.

Mizu kept walking. Along with Chinese she heard snippets of Dutch, a few words of English, and a number of other languages she had never heard before in her life. Mizu could feel her head spinning. Looking around, she could see the people on the docks and going into the city. She’d never seen so many different kinds of people. Growing up in Japan, the only non-Japanese person Mizu had ever seen was Abijah Fowler. Five minutes on the docks of Batavia and that was no longer true.

It had previously been unimaginable to Mizu, how much variety there was in the human form. Most of the people on the docks were men, but further in she could see women in the city. She walked off the docks until she reached the edge of town. Some of the men on the docks were tall, some were short. Women were usually shorter, but their heights varied as well. From what she could conclude, Mizu was tall for a woman though as unremarkable in height for a man as she was in Japan. In Japan there was some variation in skin tone, but it was nothing compared to what she saw around her. Just on the docks and the edge of town, she saw people of every imaginable shade of beige and brown ranging from very light to very dark and with a variety of undertones. Many of the white people had a reddish complexion, many of whom with faces more sunburnt than her own. Ringo was only partially wrong when he said that white people’s skin melted off in the sun. Most people had black hair, ranging in texture from pin straight to tight coils, aside from some of the dutch merchants and sailors. Their hair varied in colour from an odd shade of pale yellow, to orange like Fowler’s to as dark brown as her own.

Mizu walked by a Dutch woman standing under a palm tree holding a parasol. She caught a glimpse of the woman’s face. She had blue eyes. Looking around, most faces had brown eyes but she could see eyes of amber, gray, green, and blue as well. Mizu had never seen blue eyes outside of her own reflection before. The demon eyes that defined her life. Here they meant nothing. They were not a mark of evil or a deformation. She reached for her glasses, nearly taking them off, then deciding against it. She did not want to be seen, regardless of what that meant here.

Instead of going into town, Mizu decided instead to walk off into the woods. Wandering aimlessly into an unknown jungle was probably a poor decision, but Mizu needed her space after being on a cramped ship for over a month. That and she needed a proper bath. Alone amongst the trees she could watch the world around her and tune out the chatter in her mind. It was green, and hot, and humid, her ears focused on the sound of the birds in the trees. The scenery was unfamiliar, but being out in nature cleared her mind.

She was far enough into the woods that she could no longer hear the hustle and bustle of the city when she finally found a river deep enough to bathe in. She unwrapped the knife she brought in case anyone found her. She hoped no one would. Back in Japan, Mizu was always able to find a stream or lake to bathe in, away from prying eyes. That had not been a possibility on a ship full of men although she suspected many of the sailors were aware of her being a woman. Taigen did not know. He did not need to know.

Mizu dipped her toe into the water, it was cool but not cold. She scanned her surroundings, there was no one around. She unwrapped the bar of soap she brought and took off her clothes, unbinding her chest last, ignoring the bruises on her ribcage. She walked into the river. It was deep enough to submerge herself in if she sat. She wanted to close her eyes but she dared not, lest she drift off and drown or be caught off guard. In spite of that, she was at peace.

After a few minutes of cooling off, Mizu grabbed the bar of soap. It felt like the height of luxury to wash herself properly rather than with a bucket in some dark corner of the ship or in the back of the kitchen. Were Fowler not there she’d have washed herself in the cargo hold. He did not need to see her vulnerable. It was a great relief to be able to scrub the grime off her skin and the grease out of her hair. Her bangs had grown just enough to become a bother and soon she’d have to pin them out of her face. She looked forward to them growing out. Constantly seeing the ghost of her childhood self was less of a comfort than Mizu had originally hoped.

Once she’d finished scrubbing she left the soap out to dry and went back to soak in the water. Mizu had a few hours before she had to go back into town. It was relaxing, listening to the birds and looking up into trees. The tension floated out from her body and drifted downstream. It wouldn’t hurt to stay in the water a little longer. Or so Mizu thought until she saw a crocodile napping in the water on the other side of the river. Daisuke had warned her about them. Mizu tiptoed silently out of the water, grabbing her clothes and backing away.

The animal ignored her as she dried off and got dressed. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to head back into town. So far she’d managed to avoid people. After a small hike back into town she was back at the docks. It was time to face Daisuke’s friend who may or may not have some information about her father. It was not in her best interest to kill this man but she had not ruled out the possibility.

“Mizu!” She heard Taigen’s voice behind her. She turned around, he was walking off the ship.

“Happy to be on dry land again?” She asked, half-joking. Mizu’d never seen anyone look so comfortable in a shipyard.

“Happy to have eaten a meal that doesn’t contain hardtack,” he laughed, “where have you been?”

“Went for a walk in the jungle. Daisuke said he has a contact who may know my father in town. I needed to clear my head.”

“The jungle. You went for a walk in the jungle.” Taigen’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“I needed a bath.”

“There are bathhouses. Ones without wild animals in the middle of the woods. You’re lucky you didn’t get eaten by anything.”

“I guess I’m lucky.” Mizu shrugged. He didn’t need to know about the crocodile.

“You have no sense of self preservation. Anyways, I got you this.” Taigen pulled out a scarf, it was orange with a brown print that matched her glasses. “Since you stole my scarf back in the winter, I figure you might want your own.”

“Guess I have no excuse to steal your scarves anymore.” It was not often that people gave her gifts.

“I can put it on you if you want,” Taigen offered. Mizu nodded and smiled, untying her own scarf. Taigen’s hands were gentle, he could have easily choked her if he wanted to. Still, having anyone’s hands so close to her neck made her uneasy. His fingers lingered on her skin just a ghost of a moment longer than they had to. She wished they’d lingered a moment longer.

“Thanks,” she looked at her reflection on the water. He’d chosen a nice scarf. She headed down to the canal.

“So, where are we going?” Of course Taigen was following her. At this point there was no point trying to get him not to come.

“Hopefully for answers.” Mizu walked into the sunset down the canal, Taigen following her without a second thought.

Chapter 19: Taigen

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. I've been toying with how to write this one for a while so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy.

Taigen had no idea where he was going as he followed Mizu down the canal. He walked silently, as stealthy as a cat. Taigen was the dog trying to chase the cat.

“So, who is this contact we’re meeting?” He asked, unsure what Daisuke might know about Fowler’s London associates. It seemed odd that Fowler would have a working relationship with anyone in Batavia considering its ties with the Dutch.

“Daisuke said it was an old friend of his from Nagasaki. I don’t know anything more.” Mizu headed right as they turned a corner. Judging by the looks and mannerisms of the people around them, they must have been in the Chinese section of the city.

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap? Ringo isn’t here to save us if someone starts shooting arrows at us,” Taigen recalled Heiji Shindo’s wretched tea party.

“No one’s shooting arrows here.” Mizu paused and looked up. There was a lone sign in Japanese, he opened the door and walked in. Taigen followed him.

Thankfully there was neither a tea party nor Heiji Shindo on the inside of the door. The place was some sort of bar or tavern considering the shelves with different bottles of alcohol labeled in a variety of languages. There were tables and chairs, a man was wiping tables down with a cloth who Taigen assumed was the owner. The place was relatively clean, but Taigen could see the specks of dust floating in the golden rays of sunlight floating in as the afternoon started to fade. There was a group of old men nursing their drinks and gossiping at a back table but otherwise the place was quiet.

“Come in, you can sit anywhere you like.” The man greeted them in Japanese, he stood up and gestured at the tables. The first thing Taigen noticed about the man was his height. He was tall, taller than Taigen though with a thin, sinewy build.

“You must be Kaito.” It was a statement, not a question. Taigen could see Mizu scanning the room. He sat down at a corner table, without so much as taking off his hat. Taigen sat down beside him.

“That’s me, I own the place” he offered an unconvincing smile. The man had a long, sharp face with features that were oddly familiar to Taigen. His eyes were brown, but closer to light brown or amber in colour. Despite his fluency in Japanese, Taigen suspected the man might have been half-white.

“Do you serve food or just drinks?”

“Mostly drinks. Pick your poison, I have alcohol from all over the world. I do have a pot of stew in the back. It’s not the best but some people are better off when they don’t drink on an empty stomach.” Kaito glared at the old men in the corner.

“Speak for yourself,” a large old man with a white beard chimed in, his speech half-slurred from an afternoon of drinking.

“I’ll take the stew. Tea if you have. I don’t drink” Only Mizu would go to a bar and find a way not to drink anything.

“Fine with me, I don’t drink either anymore.”

“After you spent years nearly drinking yourself to death,” a scrawny bald man from the corner added. The owner glared back at him.

“If you have sake I’ll take it.” Taigen would have been happy drinking anything but jenever. The owner disappeared behind the bar. The old men in the corner went back to their drinks.

Mizu scanned the bar and its patrons, his face focused on his surroundings. Mizu had a long sharp face. A very similar face to the owner of the bar. Mizu was shorter, but had a similar build to the man as well. In the past Taigen would have dismissed this as all mixed-race people looking alike, but he’d seen Johannes who looked very different from both Mizu and the bar owner.

“Here we are. Lucky for you we have a bit of a lull today so service is faster” Kaito handed him and Mizu their food and beverages. Like Mizu, he had long hands, though Mizu’s were more delicate. He looked down at Mizu’s hands, a focused expression on his face. Mizu watched him, also focused. Both men had the exact same expression on their faces and there was an undeniable resemblance between them. Mizu was unlike anyone Taigen had ever met in his life so to see someone with so many similarities to him was downright unsettling.

“These are not the hands of a sailor,” Kaito caught Mizu’s wrist, his long fingers stroked the inside of Mizu’s hand as though he were a palm reader, “you’ve held a sword with these hands, perhaps you’ve even killed. Perhaps you’re here to kill me with the kitchen knife wrapped up in your belt. Sailors can kill, but your hands are that of an artisan. Burns and calluses, perhaps a glassblower or a blacksmith.”

“Swordmaker.” Mizu pulled his hand back, “your hands held a sword once too.”

“Disgraced samurai, much like your traveling companion.”

“How did you know?” Taigen was starting to regret following Mizu into this establishment. He poured himself another cup of sake.

“You hair. Dead giveaway. I’d do something about that if I were you,” He smirked. He had the same fucking smirk as Mizu. Of course he did, “how did you end up here?”

“I was an arrogant prick who picked a fight I couldn’t win,” Taigen ran his fingers through his hair, he no longer had a bald spot but it was still an uneven mess, “I was an asshole. Now I have no idea who I am.”

“At least you didn’t knock up a white woman.” The bearded man jeered, raising his empty glass. The bar owner went over to refill his cup.

“And where did this white woman come from?” Mizu asked, more of an accusation than a question.

“Not this again. Once he starts talking about his daughter he never shuts up.” The bald man rolled his eyes as Kaito poured him another drink.

“You have a daughter?” Mizu’s eyes widened.

“She’s a ghost Kaito, you’re chasing a ghost.” The bald man sighed, taking another swig of his drink.

“The Dutch merchants whose ship you’re on weren’t the only white men in Japan back in the day. There were four others, men from England. Horrible men out for themselves, with no regard for anyone or anything. One of these men brought his wife with him. He was not kind to her. I was a palace guard at the time, always listening to her cry on the other side of the door. Until one day, I went against orders and opened the door. She was a kind woman, smart, and beautiful. I taught her Japanese. She taught me English. Her husband went away on business often, and her maid was too occupied with her opium pipe to pay much attention to us. We fell in love. Nothing else mattered. We had a child. We were going to run away together, but her husband came back. The girl looked too much like me to pass off as his own. He strangled his wife and set the place on fire. To him she was a demon child, he tried to burn her alive but the maid ran off with her. She took some jewelry to sell and hid the girl with her.”

“What happened to the girl?” Mizu sat up straight. Taigen felt as though he were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“The maid hid her well. Her father put a bounty on her head, he wanted to get rid of her. The girl was a slight on his ego, he wanted her removed from existence. I searched for her for years. I found her maid eventually. They’d been hiding out in some piece of shit fishing village where she hid the girl and passed her off as a boy. But the hut they were hiding in burned to the ground and she told me the girl was dead. For years I believed her. Nearly drank myself to death in the process. But not long ago I heard a story that made me believe otherwise,” Kaito confessed. The dark circles under his eyes made it look as though he hadn’t slept in 20 years.

“Sailor’s gossip,” the bald man laughed.

“Gossip has to come from somewhere. I heard a story out of Japan about a disgraced samurai raising horses for a local lord in the mountains. He needed a wife but he could not afford to be picky about it so he married a young mixed race woman. She apparently had no idea how to be a wife but eventually they did grow fond of one another, until she pissed him off in some way and he found out that there was a bounty on her head. He sent men to kill her and collect the money but no one heard from any of them ever again. The lord went to see what happened. He found his corpse as well as corpses of the men they sent to kill the woman. No one ever saw her again, rumors have it she turned into an onryo and killed them all.”

“It could be anyone. You can’t prove anything. You’re still chasing ghosts,” argued the bearded man.

“No, it couldn’t just be anyone. They said the girl had onryo eyes. That’s how I know if was her. My daughter’s eyes are blue.” Mizu’s hands were still shaking. He took off his hat. Then his glasses.

“You’re not a white devil.” He looked up at the bar owner in disbelief. Kaito’s jaw dropped.

“Mizu.” The bottle in his hand slipped onto the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

Chapter 20: Mizu

Notes:

I've written 20 chapters of this thing. I'm as surprised as you are. Thank you for reading. I'm having a great time, hope you are too.

There was not a point in Mizu’s life where she could remember not hating her father. She’d never met the man. She’d never seen his face. But she hated him. Hated him for making mama suffer. Hated him for being the reason she was brought into the world. Hated him for creating such a grotesque and pitiful creature that had no place in society. He was a white devil. That was all she needed to know and for years that hatred had guided her in her quest for revenge.

Now her father had a face and a name. That hatred was evaporating like a puddle on a hot summer day.

A small part of her whispered in her mind that none of this was real. That Daisuke must be working with Fowler and this was just another way to fuck with her. Perhaps this was but a dream she would wake up from. It would be the easier thing for Mizu to believe. But deep down, Mizu knew it was not the truth. The man named Kaito, disgraced samurai, former alcoholic, bar owner in Batavia, and given the story he told and how much they looked alike, her father by birth. Mizu had no idea what to say to him.

Looking over at Taigen, it was clear she was not the only one at a loss for words. She feared his words when he would find them. She could not hide from him now.

“You’re a widow…you’re a woman…” At this, Mizu could do nothing but nod, “Heiji Shindo tortured me for information about you. He was wasting his time, I didn’t know anything.”

“Heiji Shindo,” Kaito grimaced as he took a seat at the table, “is that toad still croaking?”

“Not anymore.” Taigen poured himself another cup of sake.

“Abijah Fowler’s yapping lap dog.”

“You know Fowler?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“Wish I didn’t. It sounds like you’ve met him. I’m sorry you did,” he reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, “how long have you lived as a man?”

“Most of my life, aside from when I was a very young child and when I was married.”

“I see.”

“It was for the best. As a woman my options were limited. I made a poor wife and I’m too ugly to be a whore.” Mizu sighed. If she’d been born a pretty girl with brown eyes her life might be completely different.

“If you hate your looks I guess I should apologize, you look so much like me. I’m sorry you feel so poorly about yourself and you cannot see your own beauty. Besides, you’re my daughter, you could never be ugly to me.” Mizu recalled swordfather saying something similar once. In truth, they did have similar features, though on her father’s face they weren’t so exceptionally ugly as her own. Her whole life she thought she looked like a demon, but in reality she just looked like her father.

“Since you’re a widow, I’m happy to give you a new husband. I’ve got a few good years left in me. Unlike your last husband I know how to satisfy a woman,” jeered the bald man at the back table.

“You couldn’t satisfy a seagull,” the bearded man countered. Taigen glared angrily at the men. It shut them up.

“I can see the appeal of wanting to pass yourself off as a man,” Kaito sighed, frustrated with the bar’s clientele, “I guess those orange glasses hide your eyes as well.”

“My onryo eyes-”

“You have your mother’s eyes. You have her nose. Judging by how much your face burns in the sun I’d argue you have her complexion as well.”

“Hmmm…” Mizu had always assumed she had demon eyes inherited from her father. She’d never considered the possibility that she inherited her eyes from her mother. A mother who chose to have her. A mother who loved her. “Daisuke said he knew you from Nagasaki.” Mizu changed the subject. It was the only way to stop herself from crying. She could feel years of anger and sadness and resentment thawing within her, like ice melting on the ocean about to flood the shoreline.

“Yeah, we were childhood friends. Kept in touch, he was the only one to talk me out of drinking myself to death after I thought you died in that fire. Mizu, I’m so happy you got to keep your name. I gave you that name. It’s the only thing I was able to give you.” Kaito wiped a tear from his eyes.

“How did you come up with it?” Mizu’d never given her name a second thought.

“I named you after my mother. She was a whore in Nagasaki. My father was a Dutch sailor, that’s why I’m so tall. She had other children too, but I was the only one to survive past infancy. She worked so hard to put food on the table, keep a roof over our heads, but she never treated me as a burden. I was lucky, I could pass myself off as wholly Japanese and people didn’t ask any questions. I trained to become a samurai, it was my only path forward to make my way up in the world. I wanted to make enough money so that we could live comfortably and she could retire. For once in her life, she wouldn’t have to worry about money. By the time I finally got promoted I went back to visit her and found her dead. Strangled by a client. He broke her neck. Because he could. Because she couldn’t fight back. I’m glad at least you can fight back.” Kaito started sobbing even harder.

“I’m sorry.” Her father may have been half white, making Mizu even more of a mongrel than she’d anticipated, but he was no devil. This was not a man Mizu had any desire to kill.

“Who raised you? What happened after the maid left you for dead in the fire?”

“I lived on the streets of Kohama, the fishing village, for a year. The townsfolk terrorized me,” Mizu explained. She could see the guilt in Taigen’s eyes as she brought it up, “but I ended up being taken in by an old sword maker. He was blind so he couldn’t see what I looked like. He was good to me. Samurai came and went to purchase swords, I learned from all of them. I learned to fight. I had one goal in life: to kill the four white men hiding out in Japan because I thought one of them was my father. One of them made me into this demon. I went to hunt them down,” Mizu blinked, attempting to hold back tears. “I wanted revenge, I was so angry,” she couldn’t fight the tears any longer. They rolled down, hot and wet down her cheeks and salty down her throat, “you’re not a demon. I’m the demon. I became one all on my own,” Mizu sobbed. She hadn’t cried like this since she was a child. She hated how vulnerable she felt but she couldn’t stop herself. She expected everyone to leave. Instead, her father hugged her.

“Oh Mizu, I’m so sorry. For this, for everything you had to live through. I haven’t held you since I was a child. I’m sorry I missed your entire life.” He lamented, holding her as she wept. For the first time that she could remember, she cried in her fathers arms.

Chapter 21: Taigen

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. Thanks for reading!

Taigen poured himself another drink. His hands were getting blurry from all the sake he’d consumed but it did not stop him from taking another sip When he first started drinking that night the alcohol had felt warm down his throat but now, on his way to emptying his third bottle, all he felt was numb.

Following Mizu into the bar, he’d had very few expectations aside from hearing some sailor’s gossip and getting a drink. He’d gotten both. He’d gotten something more as well.

Taigen had taken Mizu at his word about his father being one of the four white men who came to Japan to exploit its people for profit. Taigen had been wrong about Mizu. Mizu had been wrong about himself. Herself? They’d have to talk at another time. When the assistant bartender came to work in the evening, he was shocked to see the bartender finally reunited with his daughter. the assistant was a short, stocky man with a patchy beard and wooden leg. He’d worked at the bar since an accident at sea. He familiar with Kaito’s stories. To him, Mizu had been a ghost story. Yuri was unable to believe his eyes when he saw her in the flesh. He told his boss to take the night off. He’d obliged, clearly having much to catch up about. Mizu had promised Taigen they would have a chance to talk tomorrow. He’d nodded. He still had no idea what else to say.

Seeing stoic, single-minded Mizu break down into tears was not something Taigen had ever expected to see. He’d seen Mizu focused, and angry on the path of revenge. He’d seen Mizu hurt after battling the four fangs or fighting through Fowler’s castle. He’d even seen a more relaxed, contemplative Mizu aboard the ship. Finding her father and learning that her entire perception of herself was based on a lie had clearly broken something inside of her. It had been painful to watch.

Taigen couldn’t even find it within himself to be angry at Mizu for lying to him. She was not only a woman but a widow whose trust had been shattered by her husband who had tried to have her killed. Mizu hadn’t been wrong when she said her options had been limited and she’d always been secretive. Ringo had been protective of her and must have known her secret. How the fuck did Ringo figure it out before he did?

He poured himself one last drink. There was nothing else left in the bottle. One last swig of sake and he’d call it a night and head back to the ship. It tasted as empty as he felt. Standing up, Taigen felt dizzy. His vision was blurred. He had only the faintest sense of where his body was. Is this how his father felt after a night of drinking? Lost? Numb? Empty? Taigen couldn’t imagine how being this drunk on a regular basis would make one feel powerful. He just felt nauseous.

One wobbly foot in front of the other, he stumbled out the door. He had money to pay his bar tab but that was tomorrow’s problem. His head wasn’t clear enough to handle numbers. Heading out into the night, he could barely remember which direction the ship was in. The street was crowed, Taigen heard at least five languages being spoken. Very little Japanese. Faces and voices from all over the world, both foreign and familiar. For most of his life, Taigen was convinced that his Japanese features were the default, but there was no default. There were seemingly unlimited ways that people could look and act and dress and speak. And to think, he grew up thinking Mizu’s blue eyes were a defect or sign of demonic origins. Today he’d lost count how many pairs of blue eyes he’d seen. Here, the thing he’d terrorized Mizu over as a child were mundane and unremarkable.

Taigen took a right and kept walking. Staying upright took his full attention. The water was lapping against the sides of the canals. It was as though the waves were taunting him, much like the waves of nausea coming up in his throat. Enough. He’d had enough for one night. He had to get back to the ship.

The sound of the waves got louder and louder as he staggered down the canal. He felt as though the ocean would rise to swallow him up. He heard a familiar voice calling to him. He didn’t know where. Taigen looked down at the waves, glistening in the moonlight. He threw a rock into the water. It splashed and sunk, its impact rippling out into the water. He looked down, down into the canal. His foot slipped. Taigen stumbled into the water like the rock.

Growing up in Kohama, Taigen had learned how to swim as a young child. He knew his way around the ocean. The three bottles of sake he’d drunk blurred his vision and dulled his senses. He tried to pull himself towards the road, but his hands only managed to splash feebly in the water. Someone reached their arm towards him. He grabbed it. They tried to pull him out, but he grabbed it with so much force it dragged them into the water with him. Whoever it was disappeared under the water for what felt like an eternity. He felt an arm wrap around his torso away from his flailing limbs, pushing him back up to the surface. He was being dragged towards the road. Eyes still blurry, Taigen blinked in an attempt to clear his vision but he still felt sick. He lay stiff as a sack of rice, letting himself get pulled out of the water.

Taigen gasped, coughing up a mouthful of water. He was out of the canal. He was soaked, and nauseous.

“And here I thought I’d have a peaceful night,” Johannes frowned, now as soaked as Taigen. He felt the sake bubble up in his throat, vomiting on the ship’s cook.

“Sorry, having a rough night.” A feeble apology. Taigen felt more sake coming back up, though this time he thew up into the canal.

“Now I’m having a rough night too.” Johannes looked down at his wet, vomit-covered clothing.

“Thanks for dragging me out of the canal. Sorry you had to see me like this”

“Taigen, I was a tavern cook in Rotterdam for over a decade. You’re not the first drunken idiot I’ve pulled out of a canal.”

“Rotterdam has canals?” Taigen asked, he’d never seen canals like there were in Batavia before. He’d always assumed they were unique to the city.

“They’re more open sewers than anything, not as nice as the ones in Amsterdam. Us Dutch are fond of canals,” Johannes explained, “also if I may ask, what happened to Mizu.”

“Found her father, he’s an old friend of the captain’s rather than the white men she’s been chasing,” the cook’s eyes widened in shock, “did you know Mizu was a woman?”

“I did, yes.”

“How?”

“By looking at her, took me about a minute to figure out. As I said, I have a sister who has blue eyes and is the same height as her.”

“How did I not notice?” The more Taigen thought about Mizu being a woman the more it made sense. He always felt like he was missing something whenever he looked at Mizu, now he knew what that was. She was always holding back a part of herself.

“Because you have a very narrow understanding about the world around you and your place in it. Your understanding of what a person can be is very limited.”

“What about the crew, does the crew know?” Taigen had to know if he was alone in his ignorance.

“Well, Daisuke knew about his friend’s ghost of a daughter, he told his son Ryo who told his friends Ren and Nobu who are notorious gossips.”

“Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“We had a betting pool about how you might find out,” Johannes admitted, “Nobu will be happy you found out from meeting her father. He won.”

“How did you think I’d find out?”

“I thought Mizu would tell you when she would tell you when she was ready.”

“Did she tell you she was a widow?”

“That I did not know.”

“Her husband found out there was a bounty on her head and betrayed her for it.”

“Sounds dreadful. That can’t have done her self-esteem any favours. Her standards in men must be low, perhaps you have a shot.” Taigen could feel the cook teasing him in an attempt to lighten the mood. Drunk and angry as he was, Taigen was tired of feeling powerless. He shoved the ship’s cook back into the canal. He hit the water with a splash.

“Don’t talk about Mizu like that.”

“Can’t even make a joke with you, you fish-minded fool,” Johannes dragged himself out of the canal. He found a rotting fish next to the water and pelted it at Taigen’s head.

“You threw a fucking fish at me!” Taigen yelled.

“You threw me in the canal with the rotten fucking fish.” Johannes yelled back.

“I should be angry, why am I not angry? Taigen threw the fish back into the water.

“No, not angry at all. Drinking heavily, yelling, and tossing people into the canal are all rational and thoughtful things to do.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not angry at Mizu. She lied to me. I should be angry at her.”

“So, you’re angry…because you’re not angry?” Johannes sighed.

“I thought I knew her. I thought I knew about how I felt about her. I thought she trusted me.”

“I think she’s still learning how to trust in general.”

“But I-”

“Not everything is about you Taigen.”

With that the conversation ended. Both men, soaking wet, stumbled back to the ship. Closing his eyes, the world was still spinning. Taigen dreaded the hangover that was coming. Tomorrow would be a difficult day. He took a deep breath and lay down in his bunk. Johannes was right. Mizu’s relationship with her father had nothing to do with him. Taigen had no control whether or not Mizu trusted him. He could not earn her trust. All he could do was to try and be worthy of it.

Chapter 22: Mizu

Notes:

Making the most of my summer restlessness by writing another chapter. Hope you enjoy.

For the first time in over a month, Mizu could say that she’d slept on solid ground. She’d been in Batavia for only a day, but that day had proven eventful. Her expectation of the city was that she’d have a chance to sit in nature by herself, have a proper bath, and learn more about the four white men of which she’d been convinced one of whom was her father. Meeting her actual father was a shock she had not been prepared for.

She had cried for what felt like a lifetime. Indeed, she’d probably cried more than she had since she was a small child. Instead of anger, all she felt was grief: grief for the mother she never knew, grief for the life she could have had, grief for the person she could have been. If her mother had lived, if her parents had escaped with her, what kind of life would she have led? Would they have stayed in Japan or fled elsewhere? Would her mother’s husband have hunted them down? Would she have even ever picked up a sword? All questions she would never know the answer too.

Waking up, Mizu rubbed her eyes. They were still sore and likely red and swollen from crying so much. Sunbeams shone in through the window, Mizu had no idea how long she had been asleep for. Kaito lived above his bar and Mizu could hear noises underneath the floor so it must have at least late morning if not early afternoon. She wondered if Taigen was still downstairs drinking, staring blankly at the wall.

Her father had taken her out for food last night as he argued that she’d suffered enough in her life and did not need to experience his cooking. This had made her laugh. Mizu wondered if she’d inherited her culinary sensibilities from her father, though more realistically, she’d absorbed Swordfather’s attitudes towards food as it was him who taught her how to cook. He cooked so he could eat so he had the energy to make swords. Much to mama and Mikio’s chagrin she had done the same. The only person she’s spent significant time with who had any noteworthy culinary skill was Ringo. Looking back, leaving Swordfather and Ringo together had been one of her better decisions. Ringo, who wanted to learn how to fight, would have the opportunity to learn in the same manner as she had. Master Eiji may find him irritating, but he would treat him with far more thoughtfulness than his own father had. By the same token, Swordfather was getting on in years and if Ringo was great at anything, it was taking care of people. Mizu, though competent as a sword maker, knew she was a frustrating apprentice. Worse than that, she knew she was an abysmal daughter even if she’d let master Eiji treat her as a son. Swordfather’s forge was the only place she’d been that ever truly felt like home.

“Tea?” Kaito offered her a cup, “I promise I’m better at brewing tea than I am at cooking.”

“Thanks,” Mizu stood up and accepted the tea. It far exceeded anything she’d had on the ship. Looking in the cup she couldn’t spot a single weevil.

Mizu finally got a chance to stretch and take a good look around. Her father’s house was clean, but mostly unremarkable and sparsely furnished. It was safe to assume he’d spent most of his time working downstairs. One thing that did catch Mizu’s eye was a large mural on the wall. She took a sip of tea and walked towards it. Upon closer inspection, it was a map. Mizu had never seen a map of this magnitude before. Tacked into the map were pins with different colours of string mapping different ocean routes. There were so many masses of land, and so much ocean between them. It took Mizu a minute to find Japan, a cluster of islands near the right edge of map. Only one string came out of Japan, an orange one.

“Here it is, the world as we know it.” Kaito pointed to the map. Mizu was only now realizing that she’d never seen a map of the world before. Such maps were likely few and far between in Japan due to the country’s isolation.

“What are the threads?” Mizu asked, fascinated by the map. She looked closer to see if there were city names. There were, but the map was in English which she still needed to learn how to read.

“Trade routes from the European colonial powers, orange for the Dutch, blue for the French, yellow for the Spanish, green for the Portuguese, and red for the English.” Kaito explained, “we are here,” he pointed to an island on the right side of the map. From Japan to Batavia they’d travelled a significant distance South.

“Where’s London?” Mizu took another sip of her tea.

“Here.” Kaito pointed to a small island near the top of the map, “if that’s where you’re headed you have a long way to go. Four to six more months at sea.”

“My mother made that journey.”

“She made it one-way, from London to Japan.”

“Hmmm,” Mizu wondered if her mother had chosen to come to Japan or had been forced into it. She took a last sip of her tea and lay the cup down on the table. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror her eyes were as red and swollen as she’d imagined. She could also see that her hair had come loose in her sleep and hung in a tangled mess around her face. She fished around for something to tie it back with, eventually finding a strip of leather.

“Here, let me,” Kaito pulled up a chair for her. He picked up a comb off the table.

“It’ll only take me a minute.”

“I know, but all this time and I never even got the chance to brush your hair growing up.” Mizu sat, resigning herself to her father’s sentimental nature. Mizu had never particularly liked having her hair brushed. Mama had always complained about her hair as she dragged a comb through it. It was always painful, both when Mizu was a child and when she’d reunited with Mizu as an adult. Swordfather had never brushed her hair but made sure she had a comb and soap to take care of herself as needed. She much preferred that approach. Her father was thankfully gentler than mama. If anything, he was too cautious, it was going to take forever to get through all the tangles in her hair. She tried to hide her impatience, perhaps she’d have been even more of an annoyance had she grown up with her actual parents.

“Your mother would have loved this. She’d have loved to dress you up, and brush your hair, and tell you bedtime stories at night.” Her parents had loved the idea of being parents. Mizu wondered if they’d been any good at it. They never had the chance to find out.

“What was her name?” Kaito had asked Mizu so many questions about her own life last night that she hadn’t been able to ask many of her own.

“Eliza, she was named after England’s great queen Elizabeth.”

“Hmmm.” She would have to ask Fowler about English history to understand the significance of the name, “what did my mother look like?” Kaito thought for a minute, before going over to the pile of notebooks and pulling several out of the stack. He set them down on the table in front of Mizu.

“Your mother was alone for much of the time that I knew her. Luckily for us she loved to draw and was quite the artist,” he flipped the page to one of the notebooks to a painting of a woman, “there are a few self-portraits of her in here.” Mizu picked up the notebook. For the first time in her life, she got to see her mother’s face. She had blue eyes, the same shade as Mizu’s. Kaito was right about them having the same nose and complexion, but that was where the similarities ended. Eliza’s face was on the longer side, but it was softer than Mizu’s. Her features were elegant and well-balanced, giving her face a sense of regalness and serenity. Mizu’s face was too long and sharp, she had gotten none of her mother’s elegance. Her hair was brown, a lighter brown that Mizu’s and was curly as opposed to her own hair which was neither properly wavy nor properly straight. She wore what Mizu had assumed was a western-style dress in the same blue as her eyes. She had a soft figure and did not appear to be especially tall. Mizu could see that she had inherited far more of her father’s features than her mother’s, especially her height and build.

“She’s beautiful. I look nothing like her.” Mizu wondered if her father was disappointed in her looks. Mama always looked at her with such disappointment. Instead, Kaito laughed.

“I mean, you do have her eyes. But who you really look like is my mother. I cannot look at you without seeing her face.” A few tears rolled down his cheeks. He still wasn’t done with her hair.

“She can’t have had an easy life.” Mizu pitied the grandmother she was named after. Being a prostitute and raising a child were challenging enough. Life hadn’t been in that woman’s favour, and neither were her looks. Staring back at herself in the mirror, Mizu had never felt good about her looks. She had been constantly reminded of her ugliness throughout her life. At least by passing as a boy there had been less emphasis on the beauty she lacked. Ugliness was irrelevant to her revenge, and she dressed herself up to hide as much of her identity as possible. Not that she had ever known what that identity meant. At least now she had context for her features.

“She didn’t. She worked hard and made sure I could have a better life than she did. Incredibly stubborn woman but I would not have survived without her. I wish I could have protected her. At least, in some way, part of her lives on in you.” The tears continued to roll down his face. It took a moment, but he finally finished with her hair and tied it up. Mizu ran her fingers through her bangs, brushing them to the side out of her eyes. Her hair was softer and shinier than she could remember it being. All it took was a bit of extra time and effort. Perhaps it wouldn’t kill her to take better care of herself.

Notes:

I had a whole plan for this chapter but started writing and it hit different emotional beats than I had intended but I just went with it.
Funny how that works.

Chapter 23: Fowler

Notes:

I think we've been overdue for a Fowler chapter. Hope you enjoy. Comments, suggestions, and ideas are always welcome!

Abijah Fowler knew that something was off. While it had been years since he’s been on one of his own smuggling ships, he was keenly aware of their movements. His ships moved quickly and quietly. They would stop only briefly, and mainly in English colonies on their way to Japan. Each time they came and went without much of a fuss.

As of yesterday morning, the ship had docked in a harbour. Where this harbour was, Fowler did not know. Judging by the heat and humidity, they were somewhere in the tropics and slightly over a month into the voyage. Realistically they were in either the East Indies or the Philippines. Listening to the conversations on the docks, Fowler had overheard a number of languages. Languages spoken all over the world. As far as European languages went, he’d heard some English and a fair bit of Dutch. Knowing this, he could deduce that they were in the East Indies rather than the Philippines. If they’d been in the Philippines, he’d have heard Spanish instead.

Had the ship left the harbour by nightfall, Fowler wouldn’t have been concerned. At times even the stealthiest of smuggling ships needed to dock for repairs or supplies. There had indeed been sailors coming and going with supplies, but the ship had docked overnight. By the sound of it half the sailors had gone of drinking the night before and they seemed to be in no rush to head back out to sea. Either these weren’t his sailors or else they’d gotten lazy and would soon find themselves terminated from employment the moment they arrived in London.

Fowler had noticed a few odd things in the cargo hold but not enough to ask too many questions about. There seemed to be extra boxes he didn’t remember ordering on the ship. His first assumption was that they were either Mizu’s or the sailor’s personal belongings but more and more, he had his doubts.

On the topic of Mizu, he hadn’t seen her since that night she came to bring him dinner. Perhaps she’d kept to herself to nurse her wounds. Perhaps his words had gotten to her, and she’d gone mad from the revelation. It was only a matter of time before she came crawling back to him for answers. Fowler enjoyed stringing her along with fragments of truth. He had more information than she did, and he knew exactly how to use it to keep her hanging. Mostly about her mother. He’d known Eliza far better than he’d known Mizu’s father whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember. Fowler only remembered him as some lovesick fool of a palace guard with his head in the clouds. He had no idea what had happened to the man after Eliza’s death. It did not matter. The man was irrelevant. So long as Mizu believed that the men she sought to kill and answers about her parentage were in London he would be able to hold at least some form of power over her.

Hearing footsteps, Fowler looked out the bars of his cage into the cargo hold. Finally, it was time for breakfast. For a second, he thought perhaps he’d be graced with Mizu’s presence. He was quickly disappointed. Instead, it was Mizu’s pet stowaway. Fowler couldn’t be assed to learn his actual name. The man was a clearly in love with Mizu but despite being too much of an idiot to figure it out, he was still loyal as a dog. In that sense, he was not unlike Mizu’s father. Fowler wondered if being a moron was a prerequisite for being a samurai.

“Eat,” the stowaway shoved a tray in through the slot. It was the usual weak tea, weevil-ridden hardtack, and lumpy flavourless stew. This time though, he’d gotten a mango on his tray. Fowler hadn’t had fresh fruit since he boarded the ship. The stowaway’s brows were furrowed, as he stared at Fowler in disgust. Fowler could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Looks like someone had a rough night,” the stowaway was useless, but Fowler was bored and aspired to get a reaction out of the man for entertainment.

“I’ve had worse,” the man did not sound convinced. From what Fowler could see through the bars, his clothes were rumpled and he had dark circles under his eyes. The worst part was the smell. He reeked of both sewage and dried vomit.

“At least this time you’ve got your fingernails.” The stowaway grimaced. Fowler took a bite of the mango. He sunk his teeth into its soft flesh, letting the juice drip down his chin, “so where’s your friend?”

“None of your fucking business,” the stowaway barked. He even sounded like a dog.

“Probably couldn’t stand your company. Judging by the smell of you, you made a night of being a drunken fool before crawling back here with your tail between your legs.” Fowler took another bite of the mango. The stowaway’s eyes widened, clearly, he’d managed to hit a nerve.

“This has nothing to do with Mizu.”

“Of course, you’re clearly capable of alcohol-induced debauchery without any assistance.”

“I am.” He nodded; Fowler noted the sliver of regret in his eyes. Not that he could relate, Fowler was not a man to have regrets, “I owe it to myself to do otherwise.”

“Do you now?”

“If I was a drunken idiot, I have no one to blame but myself. Not Mizu, not anyone else.” He attempted to brush chunks of dried vomit from his clothes, fanning wafts of the stench around the cargo hold.

“Mizu,” Fowler laughed, eager to shatter the stowaway’s illusions, “Mizu is not the man you think you know. I found that out breaking your friend’s ribs back in Edo. Her bones break like a woman’s because she is one.”

“I know,” the man sighed.

“She’s lied to you the entire time you’ve known her.” Fowler glared into his eyes. They were blank, if anything he looked tired and slightly sad.

“It’s her life,” the man shrugged and walked away. Taking with him a major source of leverage Fowler thought he had over Mizu. He was starting to worry, perhaps he did not have as much power over her as he initially anticipated.

Chapter 24: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks to everyone for reading and I appreciate all the comments. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

“After all these years I can’t believe it Kaito, I saw your ghost.” Daisuke took a sip of his drink. Mizu had followed her father downstairs to help open up the bar. The ship’s captain had been waiting for him, eager to catch up with his old friend. Along with him, waited the old men from yesterday, like cats outside a fish market picking for scraps.

“Thank you,” he pulled his friend into a hug, “I owe you the world. How did you find her?”

“Good luck, I guess. She was trying to find a ship to take her to London,” He turned to Mizu, “Mizu, other than your eyes, you’re almost the spitting image of your grandmother.”

“You knew my grandmother?” She’d never asked how Kaito and Daisuke knew each other.

“Yeah, she was friends with my mom. They worked in the same brothel. Based on what we seen growing up I cannot blame you for passing yourself off as a man, even being as pretty as you are.” He reached out and ruffled her hair.

“We grew up together. Daisuke became a sailor and I a samurai, we kept in touch.” Kaito pulled out a chair for her. Mizu sat down and faced the pile of sketchbooks in front of her. Her mother’s prized possessions. Her fingers traced the covers, hesitant to open them up. “He was going to smuggle us out of Japan. We almost made it.”

“Where would we have gone?” Mizu struggled to envision another life for herself than the one she had led. Would she have chosen her path of revenge if there were another path available to her?

“Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. So long as we were together it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“He still would have hunted you Kaito, Eliza’s husband wasn’t all that thrilled about you running off with his wife. Those Englishmen would not have let you live in peace.”

“So, I still have to kill these men.” Mizu grimaced.

“Technically you have three options: go back to Japan and hide and hope they don’t find you, stay here with your father and hope they don’t find you, or go to England and hope you find them before they find you,” Daisuke explained. Revenge or no, the choice was an illusion. There was no world where these men would not be hunting her down if she let them live. Once again, she was a woman with no good options. Either she spent her whole life in hiding or she would have to do away with those monsters once and for all.

“We loved each other Daisuke, everything would have worked out for the best,” Kaito argued, Daisuke buried his head in his hands and signed. Mizu picked up a notebook from the top of the pile. She opened it up. It must have been one of the older notebooks, as she noticed sketches of flowers and birds she had never seen before in her life. Turning the page she noticed a painting, a castle made of stone. The architecture in a style unfamiliar to her.

“Where is this place,” Mizu pointed to the painting.

“Skeffington hall. Her husband’s home.” Of the four men, Skeffington was her mother’s husband.

“It’s in London?”

“No, according to Eliza it was a few hours away on horseback.” Fowler taking her to London would only take her part of the way to the man she needed to kill. Turning the page there were more nature and animal drawings as well as a few paintings. There was a self-portrait of herself in the mirror. Mizu couldn’t help but note how sad and lonely she looked. Further along there was a drawing of a man. He was tall with pale hair. His eyes were cold, his face devoid of expression. The words Sir Peter Skeffington written underneath. Her mother’s husband’s full name. More nature drawings followed; Eliza seemed to find solace in nature. Mizu had clearly inherited this trait from her mother. The sketch that featured people was also in colour. Eliza was there with two men, the three of them looked alike all sharing the same blue eyes and brown hair.

“Who are they?” Mizu wondered if she had more family in England than she originally considered.

“Eliza and her brothers. Thomas Routley was the oldest. He’s the one who came to Japan. I’ve had the misfortune of meeting him. He’s a flesh trader, same as they’ve got in Japan though last I heard he went back to London. Sold Eliza into her miserable marriage. She had another brother James who was a physician. Eliza spoke quite fondly of him, he was disgusted by his brother’s trade,” Kaito explained. Of the four men who came to Japan from England, one was her mother’s brother and the other her husband. Thomas Routley would meet his end by her hand but there was a chance his brother would not be a threat to her. She would have to investigate further once she arrived in London. She kept flipping through the pages until she came across a drawing of three young girls. Mizu thought back to Fowler’s words about her being the only child her mother actually wanted.

“These are my sisters.” Mizu looked at the girls grimly. She’d accounted for killing the four men who came to Japan, intending to do harm. Now she recognised she might have to kill all her living siblings as well, not out of revenge but if they would not let her live in peace she would have no choice.

“Half-sisters. The oldest is Catherine, she should be about 10 years older than you, then Jane is the middle child, and Mary is the youngest. She would have been about 3 here.”

“Did you meet them?”

“No, they never came to Japan. Skeffington made sure to separate them from his wife in case she decided to run away with the girls.” Abandoning her older children had not been a deal breaker for her mother once she found true love. Her father hadn’t thought twice about it either. Perhaps they had been consumed by love the way she was with revenge. Perhaps they felt they had nothing else.

“What exactly did happen with Eliza’s older girls?” Daisuke asked, trying and failing to hide the judgement in his voice.

“I have no idea, I guess they’re still in England somewhere.” Kaito shrugged.

“Do they know about me?” Any reunion Mizu might have with them was going to be awkward at best and deadly at worst.

“I would assume so. Peter Skeffington loathes you because you exist. He always will. He would have tried to pass that hatred down to his daughters. How they actually feel I could not tell you; I do not know them.” Mizu closed the sketchbook. Picking out another from the bottom of the pile. She assumed it was the last book of drawings her mother did before she died.

“Kaito, what kind of life have you set your daughter up for?”

“She’s alive, that’s all that matters to me,” her father turned to her, “Mizu, I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. Love me or hate me, it doesn’t matter so long as you don’t hate yourself. Your life is yours, just do what makes you happy.” Mizu blinked. Her father clearly hadn’t thought anything through. Not that she had any right to judge. Jumping on a boat to travel across the world with a man who wished her ill just because a man she sought to kill might be on the other side of that voyage was hardly a conscientious course of action. Until recently, she had never even considered living long enough to have children. She made a poor wife and was uncertain she’d be any better at being a mother.

The final notebook showed details of Eliza’s life in Japan. There were less scenes of nature, likely due to her being cloistered somewhere. Even so, there were both sketches and paintings of birds on her windowsill and the trees she could see from inside. She’d done a self-portrait of herself in a kimono, she’d taken well to the Japanese style of dress and Mizu could tell she’d started to incorporate it into her art.

She’d chronicled her surroundings through art, and Mizu could see some familiar faces across the pages. Violet was there, the old opium dealer who had died by her sword. A younger mama making tea or fussing over clothing showed up in some of her sketches. One page showed Fowler and Shindo arguing, their conversation resembling a lover’s spat more than a business arrangement. It appears the two men had always found a way to make each other miserable.

There were more than a few drawings of her father among the pages. At times he was in his formal uniform as a palace guard, at times he was more relaxed. Mizu still found it unsettling how much she looked like him aside from his eyes being amber in colour rather than blue. There was no anger in his expressions, nor was there any anger in her mother’s. Mizu’s anger, thus her desire for vengeance had been all her own. She kept flipping through the pages. She’d almost reached the end of the book. Mizu had been ready to close it up and walk away. Until she saw the last painting in the book. It was her as a baby sleeping in her father’s arms. One last good memory catalogued by her mother before everything fell apart.

Notes:

I have a stomach bug so if this chapter feels like a fever dream that's why.

Chapter 25: Mizu

Summary:

Not that the last chapter was incomplete, but this is sort of a part 2 for it.

As always I do not own this TV series, just my own unhinged fanfiction ideas. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

For the first time in her entire life, Mizu felt aimless.

Ever since she was a small child, she had wanted revenge on the man who brought her into the world. The anger, the injustice of her existence had been her light in the dark, guiding her when she had no other path forward. Revenge was all she knew. Revenge was all she needed to know. Becoming the world’s greatest swordsman was her means to that end and she gave it her all. Her father was the source of all evil. The white devil whom she had built up in her head. Meeting her actual father had shattered that illusion.

Her father was not the devil. Her parents had names. They had faces. Kaito meant well. Eliza had as well. They had wanted to raise her and build a life somewhere. They were lonely people who found meaning in each other’s company and she was a by-product of their dreams. Her parents loved the idea of her. They loved the idea of being parents. To them, everything was going to work out in the end because they loved each other. At least they had thought so until it didn’t. Mizu had spent the better part of a day with her long-lost father. He clearly loved her, though she suspected that their reunion had meant more to him than it did for her.

She was still going to London, of course. It was that or continue to be hunted like an animal. If Mizu ever wished to know peace, she had no choice but to confront her mother’s brother and husband. More than just a light in the dark, her quest for revenge had given Mizu strength. She was a warrior rather than the powerless child she had been, now grown into a woman with no good options. She was either holding the sword, or it was at her throat. She’d grown up in hiding, it was the only way she survived. If she ever wished to do anything more than hide and run, she had to fight and she had to win. There was no satisfying outcome. And as she’d known nothing else, she had no idea what could possibly be waiting on the other side of her quest if she survived it.

Mizu left Kaito and Daisuke to catch up with one another. She’d needed some air. She put her hat and glasses back on and walked out to wander the city. Sure, she’d dressed the way she did to present the illusion of the man she’d created to allow her to navigate the world, but even she had no idea what truly lied underneath. Ringo had once told her she didn’t know how to die, perhaps she was that way because did not know how to live either.

Batavia was disorienting. She did not know the layout of the city. She was a foreigner. She looked foreign and she did not speak the language of most of its residents. To them, Mizu appeared a strange man wandering the city. Part of her wanted to wander off into the jungle, leaving her fate at the mercy of crocodiles and jungle cats. At least if she was eaten by animals, she would have been killed out of hunger instead of hatred. If she’d died on her quest she’d have died with a purpose. What would become of her if she survived it and had her entire life ahead of her. Who would she become? Now that she knew her quest would not bring her any satisfaction, was happiness even a possibility for her? The prospect of it frightened her more than falling on her sword. She’d left her sword in Japan. She had nothing to fall back on.

Looking up the hills she could see a man sitting in a clearing. He was painting. Her mother painted. Perhaps it would be good for her to watch someone perform her mother’s art. Swordfather had raised her to be an artist after all. It would not kill her to learn something new.

She walked up the hill and into the clearing. Mizu took off her glasses. The orange glaze of her glasses now peeled away. The clearing was a good vantage point, she could see the canals, the city, and the docks. From a distance she could see the ship she’d come in from Japan on. She took a deep breath. The air was always cleaner in the woods. Perhaps her mother had been of the same opinion considering the focus on nature in her sketchbooks.

At the edge of the clearing she saw the man painting. He was mixing colours together, adjusting the colour of the clouds to match the afternoon light. Mizu was silent, tiptoeing behind the man in hopes of him not noticing her. It was too late, he turned around to look at her. She had not expected to see the ship’s cook.

“Johannes, since when were you a painter?” The cook had never mentioned anything about his hobbies. Not that Mizu had asked him anything on the subject.

“Whenever I have the time and can afford the materials. There’s a lot of great art in the Dutch Republic. If I had the means I’d be an artist full time. I don’t even like cooking, especially not on a ship,” he confessed.

“If you hate cooking, why keep doing it?”

“I got a job at a tavern when I was 12. They were hiring and we needed the money. I kept working there until the place burned down. Worked odd jobs for my brother-in-law, occasionally appraising art, occasionally serving as a cook on his ships. It’s a job I know how to do. There are worse jobs.”

“I see,” Mizu sat down on the grass beside him. Along with watching Johannes paint, she figured it couldn’t hurt to have someone to talk to,

“Did you like making swords?” Johannes asked, turning back to his painting. Mizu paused for a moment; she’d always thought it destiny that the man who took her in was a sword maker. She never considered any other possibility.

“I did, I’m grateful to swordfather. He raised me, he didn’t have to take care of me, but he did.” Looking back Mizu had enjoyed the work of making swords. Learning to fight with one had brought her purpose and she missed master Eiji dearly. She’d have to see if she could send a letter back to Japan for him and Ringo, explaining what had happened and what she planned to do.

“Swordfather, the swordmaker who raised you?”

“Master Eiji, yes. If I survive this journey, I think I would go back to the forge. He accepted me as an apprentice, I do not know if he would accept me as a daughter.”

“If he loves you as a parent, he’ll accept you for what you are. Speaking of which, Taigen told me you met your actual father,” Of course he had talked to Taigen, “apparently he’s not the white devil you thought he was.”

“My mother was English, not my father. She was the wife of one of the four men I’m sworn to kill. Her husband killed her because of me. My father was Daisuke’s childhood friend from Nagasaki. Funnily enough he’s half-Dutch. Turns out I have as much Japanese blood as you do.”

“Perhaps we are long-lost cousins. I’ve always wanted a cousin; I have plenty back in Amsterdam, but we were in Rotterdam, and they were discouraged from spending time with my sisters and me. No one wanted their children tainted by playing with us filthy foreign mongrels.” Johannes rolled his eyes. Mizu could practically feel his frustration. A frustration she was well acquainted with.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what the parents in Kohama told their children about me.”

“Fucking ignorant brats,” at this they both laughed.

“All that hatred. I’ll never forget it. Those kids probably don’t even remember anything.”

“That hatred sits within them, like weevils in hardtack until they are forced to confront it.” Johannes dipped his brush in the green paint, he was adding leaves to the palm trees in the foreground of the painting.

“I hated them too, I thought it would save me from grief,” Mizu sighed. All her anger, anger at the kids in Kohama, at the men who she thought had made her a demon, anger at the world who told her she had no right to exist, it had lit a fire in her soul. Now that the fire was burning out, she could see what truly lied underneath. Sadness, and grief, and loneliness, these were the feelings colouring the ashes of her dreams of revenge.

“I Wish I didn’t know how you feel Mizu. If you ever want to complain about it, I’m happy to shoot the breeze. You’re not as alone as you think. There are places you will need to hide, but everyone on the ship knows who and what you are now. Aside from when you must deal with rat man, you can breathe while you’re on board.”

“Even Taigen knows what I am now,” Mizu sighed, she had yet to confront him about it, “does he hate me?” At this, Johannes burst into laughter.

“Mizu, the man stuffed himself into a barrel to stow away on a ship going halfway around the world because you happened to be on it. What goes on in his mind is beyond my comprehension. He needs to figure out who he wants to be. Both of you do. You cannot do that for him, nor he for you. But no, Taigen doesn’t hate you. Do you hate yourself?” His question caught her off guard. She paused for a moment, figuring out what to say.

“I did. I hated myself for as long as I could remember. I don’t want to hate myself anymore.” Mizu stared at the ocean in the distance. If only her hatred left her so easily it could float away on the waves until it drowned at sea.

Chapter 26: Taigen

Notes:

So apparently season 2 of the show is coming out in 2026 and we're getting 6 episodes. It's gonna be a long wait but animation is time and resource intensive so it makes sense. Hopefully the network won't screw them over too much. Until then it's fanfic time I guess. Maybe I'll finish this fic before season 2 comes out who knows. Making the most of having end of summer writing time right now.

Taigen was dragging his feet.

He’d slept off his drunkenness and washed the vomit out of his clothing. He could no longer smell the alcohol on his breath. He no longer smelled like his father after a night of drinking.

The past day of his life had been a blur. The ship had arrived in Batavia yesterday morning, he’d helped Johannes, and the crew restock the ship with fresh food and other supplies, and he’d followed Mizu to a bar where she’d reunited with her long-lost father, and he’d found out that she was a woman. After that he’d nearly drunk himself into drowning until the ship’s cook had thrown a fish at him and slapped him back to reality. He’d woken up in the haze of a miserable hangover, fed the prisoner, cleaned himself up to look less like a drunken vagrant, and was now headed back to see what happened to Mizu. It had been a busy day.

Now, he was headed back out to Mizu’s father’s establishment. He’d wanted to apologize for making such fool of himself. This was Mizu’s father’s first impression of him, and he was not off to a good start. Taigen couldn’t help but wonder how Mizu was adjusting to everything. She’d had such a single-minded vision of both herself and her quest for revenge. Finding out her father was not, in fact, a white devil must have shattered it into a million pieces. Taigen owed it to her to help her put them back together.

After an hour of circling the canals, Taigen took a deep breath and opened the door. It was late in the afternoon, the bar looked much the same as it had the day before. The same old men had their table in the back and there were a few more chattering sailors. Yuri was behind the bar pouring drinks. Kaito was stacking some old notebooks in the back. There was no sign of Mizu.

“I’m not serving you any more alcohol.” Taigen could feel Kaito’s amber eyes looked right through him, being thoroughly unimpressed with what they saw. Mizu had given him the same look more times than he could count.

“I just wanted to apologize for getting so drunk, three bottles of sake was a lot-”

“Three that you remember. According to Yuri you barely walked out of here. You’re lucky you’re not lying face down in a canal.”

“I came close, a friend pulled me out.” Taigen ran his fingers through his hair nervously. It appeared he’d drunk far more than he remembered, and he remembered drinking quite a lot.

“Hmmm,” he studied Taigen in a way he was unsure anyone had studied him before, “I think we should have tea. I’ll go prepare a pot.” He disappeared into the back. Taigen wondered whether he was being threatened or not. The last time he’d gone to a tea party was with Heiji Shindo. His fingertips twinged at the memory.

Taigen went to sit at the table with the notebooks. He knew it wasn’t his place to look inside but he couldn’t help himself, helping himself to the book at the top of the pile. He flipped through the pages. It was full of art, sketches in charcoal, in ink, in paint. Whoever had made them clearly had an eye for capturing the world around them. Taigen could tell they’d been in Japan at the time, most of the people in the book were Japanese and he had recognised the animals that so often made their way into the pages. He did notice a few familiar faces among the sketches. Fowler and Shindo made a few appearances, they were always together and both far younger men than the ones Taigen knew. There were three other white men in the book, Taigen assumed these were the men Mizu had sworn revenge on. There was also a woman with Mizu’s eyes. He had to assume it was her mother. They had some similarities, but she looked more like her father than her mother. Taigen was grateful he looked more like his own mother than he did his father. Having to stare at his father’s face every time he saw himself would be unbearable.

There were more than a few drawings of Mizu’s father in the book, both in his uniform as a palace guard as well as in a more relaxed state of dress. Taigen wondered if the book had belonged to Mizu’s mother. Perhaps she’d turned to art to ease her loneliness. There was a sense of despair to her face that Taigen recognized from his own mother. Had he married Akemi having never encountered Mizu at the dojo he was certain he would have caused her the same despair. He would not have made a good husband. He hoped Akemi’s husband was worthy of her and supported her quest for greatness. If Taigen ever did marry, he would try his best not to be the sort of man who was his wife’s main source of despair.

“She looks like you,” Taigen noted as Kaito came back with a pot of tea and two cups. In his youth, Mizu’s father had looked less haunted and dishevelled than the man in front of him pouring him tea. Still, it was clear they were related. After seeing them together last night Taigen could see that Mizu was his daughter and not his son, or perhaps the new information had begun sinking in and he’d begun to see her in a new light.

“That’s how Daisuke recognised her. He told me he found my ghost. After all these years you probably know her better than I do.” Kaito poured them both a cup of tea.

“Not sure I know very much; I didn’t know she was a woman until yesterday. Mizu has been through a lot; I hate to admit how difficult I’ve made her life,” Taigen admitted. He took a sip of the tea. It was better than what they had on the ship. He couldn’t see a single weevil floating in the cup.

“You hurt her,” Kaito frowned. The sadness in his eyes was unbearable to look at but Taigen refused to look away.

“When we were kids. She was alone living on the streets of the fishing village I grew up for a while. My friends and I taunted her. We threw rocks at her and called her terrible things. One day she disappeared, and I never saw her again until she showed up at the dojo in Kyoto to for information. I was their top student, we fought, and I just had to insult her one last time. She bested me, cut off my topknot, and left me in the snow to lick my wounds.”

“And yet, here you are,” Kaito took a sip of his tea. Taigen knew he wasn’t exactly winning him over with his treatment of his daughter, but it would be wrong to tell him anything other than the truth.

“I was engaged at the time, but my fiancé’s father wanted nothing to do with me. My fiancé begged me to stay and sort things out, but I wanted a proper duel to restore my honour, so I left her to chase Mizu down and beg her for a duel. I followed her on her quest for more information about a man she sought to kill, Abijah Fowler, but got captured by his men and tortured for information I didn’t have and wouldn’t give. She rescued me from Fowler’s castle, her apprentice brought her back to the sword maker who raised her so she could heal. We got into a fight, I called her some things I regret and rushed to the capital to find my fiancé and save her from an impending coup. Mizu came, we stopped Fowler from taking the city, but Edo burned to the ground. I found my fiancé, but she’d remarried and found her path in the world without me. I learned that Mizu had planned to go to London, so I stowed away on her ship. I didn’t know what else to do. I had nowhere else to go.” He took another sip of tea, well-aware of the fact he’d made himself sound like an idiot. It was not hard to make himself sound like an idiot when he’d chosen to act like one.

“You may yet be a great swordsman, but you’ll never be a samurai again. It bothers you, being dishonoured.” Kaito poured more tea. If Taigen had to choose between being confronted by Mizu’s father or having his fingernails ripped out again, he would have chosen the torture.

“It did. Now I’m less bothered by having been dishonoured than my own dishonourable behaviour. I really made an ass of myself.”

“Honour,” Kaito laughed, “I grew up in a brothel. I’ve seen men who call themselves honourable and men who call themselves dishonourable. Do you want to know the difference between these men?” Taigen nodded, maybe he would learn something from Mizu’s father, “absolutely nothing. Honour and status are just lies people tell themselves to feel important. If you want to see the colour of a man’s soul, see how he treats those with nothing to offer him.”

“Do you think a man’s soul can change colours?” Taigen wondered. He couldn’t undo his childhood cruelty but the idea of treating anyone the way he’d treated Mizu made him feel ill.

“If he wills it, most men don’t,” Kaito shrugged.

“I spent so much time chasing greatness. I thought it was my destiny, but I was just tired of being helpless. That and it was the only way out of my hometown. None of it matters anymore. I think I just want to be happy.” Taigen had become a samurai for status and to prove his worth. He had been viewed as a great fighter and promising student, at least until Mizu showed up. It was only after losing everything that he’d made any attempts to become a good man. In truth, being on the ship was the happiest he’d ever been. Sure, it was cramped, and the food was not ideal, but he had friends in the crew and he had meaningful work in keeping the ship afloat. Most importantly Mizu was there as well, and he finally had a chance to make amends and get to know her properly.

“I see,” Kaito finished his tea, “I have one last important question to ask you Taigen: what are your intentions with my daughter?” Taigen opened his mouth and shut it. This was not what he’d been expecting.

“I guess, I’ve been part of her misery for so long, I think I want to be part of her happiness. I’m still trying to figure out what that means.”

“Well, London is far, and you have time to figure it out. Still, her heart’s been broken, I can tell. Don’t break it further.” If Mizu’s father hadn’t seemed so exhausted his words would have sounded more like a threat.

“I won’t,” he promised. A promise Taigen intended to keep.

Chapter 27: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who has been reading! Glad you're enjoying and appreciating the feedback.

Morning came and it was time to head back to the ship. Mizu had gone back to her father’s for the night one last time before the ship would leave port and head off to sea. Kaito told her that she would always be welcome back at any time. He did not doubt that she would survive the journey. She could have gone back to Japan if she had wished. According to Johannes, another ship of his brother-in-law’s had arrived in Batavia on its way into Japan. Were it not for the bounty on her head, she would have taken it and gone back to Swordfather’s forge. Instead, she’d written a letter to Ringo explaining her situation and given it to the captain of the Cornelia II. If all went according to plan, Ringo would have the letter in his hands within less than two months. If all went well, he would forgive her. She hoped Swordfather would too.

Sitting on her father’s floor, Mizu stared up at the map on the wall. More and more, the vastness of the known world and the journey ahead of her were sinking in. It would be many months, if not years, until she saw Japan again. The journey would change her. It already had.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Kaito pointed to the map, “how big the world is, and how little we get to see of it.”

“Your map of the world was the first I ever saw. My whole life I thought I was a demon, now I know I’m barely a speck of dust,” Mizu admitted.

“Alright then, what does that speck of dust want to be?”

“I don’t know. I thought of revenge. Only revenge against the monsters who I thought had made me. I would live by the sword and eventually die by it. It was the only path I thought I was cut out for.”

“Well Mizu,” Kaito placed a hand on her shoulder, “maybe you’re cut out for something else.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Mizu looked back up at the vast oceans and continents between her and London, “I have no idea who I am. Daisuke and Ryo knew I was a woman, what about the rest of the crew?”

“Most of them have passed through my doors or else knew someone who did. I’ve overheard a number of them refer to you as ‘Kaito’s blue-eyed ghost daughter’.” Mizu couldn’t help but laugh at the description.

“So, I don’t need to hide from them.” If the sailors were already comfortable with knowing what she was and where she came from, it would be one less thing for Mizu to worry about.

“You never did. The only members of the crew that wouldn’t have known are the cook and your travelling companion.” Johannes figured out she was a woman within minutes. Taigen would not have figured it out on his own.

“This changes things.” To what extent Mizu remained unsure.

“Only if you want it to. Before you go, I have something for you. It’s downstairs at the bar so I’ll head down to find it. Meet me there when you are ready.” Kaito explained. Mizu nodded as he left to go downstairs. Perhaps he sensed she needed a bit of space.

Mizu looked out the window as her father’s footsteps faded until she heard the faint sound of conversation downstairs. People were walking by on the street in all manners of dress, speaking more languages than she could ever hope to learn. Her English was coming along well, but she needed to learn how to read and write and it would be wise of her to learn at least a bit of Dutch. In Japan Mizu’s blue eyes had marked her as being an outsider, outside of Japan it was the rest of her features. The carefully crafted image of a swordsman she’d created would be irrelevant. The moment she got to London she would have to reinvent herself.

For now, she had a luxury she hadn’t had in her entire life. She had the luxury to figure out who she actually was at the moment. Mizu had played the role of sword maker’s apprentice, of farmer’s wife, of vengeful swordsman. She had been all of these identities, but there was more to her even if she did not quite know what that meant yet. Swordfather would tell her to pull up an extra chair in her mind for it. Either way, she would need to sit with it and give herself a chance to breathe.

Mizu stretched; her back was stiff from sleep. She adjusted her pants and yukata as they had gotten rumpled from being slept in. At some point she would have to get Western-style clothing as would Taigen. Mizu was certain Johannes would be able to help find them something. Until then, the clothes she had would do. If everyone on the ship knew she was a woman there was no points in continuing to bind her chest while at sea. She could finally let the bruises heal though for now she would leave it be.

She tied her scarf back around her neck. Normally, Mizu had used her scarves to hide having a woman’s neck. She wore this scarf because she liked it. Taigen had chosen her a nice one, the brown and orange print contrasting the blue of her eyes and other clothing. She kept her cloak folded. It was too hot in the tropics to wear a cloak. Mizu planned on storing it away in her quarters until she needed it for warmth when they reached Europe.

Next, she had to do something with her hair, probably the most visible sign of her identity crisis. Mizu had cut her bangs with a fruit knife the night before leaving Japan. When Ringo had seen them, he’d asked her if she was feeling alright. She brushed them and parted them to the side before moving on to the rest of her hair. Johannes had also been concerned for her when she’d hacked up her hair in his kitchen. Thankfully he’d been able to even it out and make it look decent. It was still long enough to tie up in a topknot but Mizu no longer desired to do so. She eventually decided on tying it back, though this time she settled on a higher ponytail than she’d worn in her youth. Perhaps as her hair grew out, she’d wear it in the higher, more feminine style of ponytail she’d worn at times on Mikio’s farm.

Not wearing her sunhat on the ship had led to her face burning in the sun. Mizu put her hat on, making a note to wear it more often during the brightest part of the day. Finally, she looked down at her orange glasses. For years they’d allowed her to hide her eyes from the world. She folded them up and put them away. Mizu doubted she would wear them again until she got back to Japan.

Mizu looked around her father’s house one last time in an attempt to sear it into her memory. Once her quest had ended, she hoped to come back to visit. She took a deep breath and closed the door behind her.

Downstairs at the bar, Kaito was waiting for her. He was wiping the dust off of an old sword. It looked as though it hadn’t been used in many years.

“You know, the whole reason I became a samurai was so I could protect the people I cared about. I failed miserably. I couldn’t protect my mother, I couldn’t protect Eliza, and I couldn’t protect you. It’s become painfully clear to me that the only way this sword can protect you is if it’s in your hands. Otherwise, it’s just collecting dust.” Kaito handed her the sword.

“Thank you, is there anything you want me to bring you back from London?” Mizu took the sword; it wasn’t one of Master Eiji’s, but it appeared a perfectly serviceable blade.

“No, I just want you to survive and find a way to build a life for yourself. Build a life that brings you meaning. Find love, though I suspect it may have already found you. Just, don’t be a stranger now that I know you’re not a ghost.” There were tears in his eyes, as she felt the tears well up in her own. Leaving was harder than she had expected it to be. Mizu gave her father one last hug before he walked her down to the docks.

Notes:

Writing wise I'll probably slow down a bit for the fall but will absolutely keep going in order to keep myself sane. I have one more chapter I'd like to write before the end of the month but we'll see how it goes.

Chapter 28: Taigen

Notes:

Figuring out how to write this chapter gnawed away at my brain so hopefully enjoy the results of the brain gnawing.

Once again, Taigen was bleeding out in the snow. At least he had been before falling out of his bunk and waking up from the same nightmare as he’d had the past two nights. His dreams had taken him back to his duel with Mizu in the winter when he was still the arrogant young samurai he was at the dojo. In his dream they’d been fighting when Mizu turned into an actual onryo. Every time the dream ended the same. They killed each other and bled out in the snow.

Rubbing his eyes, Taigen headed up to the deck of the ship to his usual spot by the mast. He didn’t know why the dream bothered him so much. Mizu’s father was right about him. While still an excellent swordsman, he would never be a samurai again. That door was closed to him forever regardless of how hard he’d worked running down that path in the first place. Taigen ran his fingers through his hair which was still awkward and uneven, yet another thing Kaito was right about.

Though they’d left Batavia the day before, Taigen had yet to exchange more than a few words with Mizu. She’d entered the city a very different person than she left it. It was hard to see the vengeful swordsman in her as she’d walked back down the docks. Her father had hugged her and given her his sword and she’d disappeared into her cabin once they left port. Taigen couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at her.

Taigen could see a few rays of light peaking over the horizon as he walked up to the deck of the ship. It was almost sunrise. Once again, they were at sea and would be until they reached Mauritius in about a month. London was still an ocean away.

The deck was quiet and walking over to the mast, Taigen noticed Mizu was already there in his choice of spot.

“Can’t sleep either huh,” he smiled awkwardly, sitting down beside her. Mizu nodded; her red-rimmed eyes still fixed on the horizon. In the past, Taigen had seen Mizu as gutter trash, an onryo, a great swordsman, a travelling companion, a friend, and now finally as the exhausted women she actually was. She’d shed all the layers she had hidden behind, now barefoot and with her hair down in her regular clothes. Mizu looked different, her belt was tied slightly higher on her waist, and he could see the swell of her chest which she must have previously made an effort to compress. While still tall and lean, she very much had a woman’s body.

“You’re staring,” Mizu called him out. Taigen felt slightly guilty, he hadn’t meant to ogle her like a common pervert.

“I’m finally seeing you. Would you have told me?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there yet,” Mizu admitted. She stared at nothing, her gaze a thousand miles away.

“Where are you now?” He tucked her hair behind her ear, it was soft between his callused fingers.

“Lost,” Mizu sighed, “Mama, whoever she was, raised me as a boy so no one would find me. The man who was my father put a bounty on my head as a blue-eyed girl. As a boy I had more options on what I could do and where I could go. There was no point asking any questions. I thought killing my white father was my destiny, the demon’s path of revenge was the only path I had the chance to walk down. There’s still a bounty on my head, I still have men to kill, but not my father. If my mother had lived, if we’d escaped, my parents and I, we could have been happy. I’ll never know who I could have been.”

“Well, London’s pretty far so you have no shortage of time to think about it.”

“My mother had three other daughters in London. I might have to kill them. I hope I don’t.”

“Yeah, siblings can be hard to deal with.” Mizu glared at him and Taigen immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Did you learn anything from your siblings,” he could taste the bite of sarcasm in her words.

“Mostly bad habits. When my dad wasn’t beating me up, my older brothers were. Whenever I had someone I could beat up, I did the same,” Taigen explained, “you, stray dogs, new recruits at the dojo. I needed to prove there was someone weaker than me. I guess it’s only through dishonour I’m making any attempts at being a good man. I’ll never treat you that way again, if I ever have a kid I won’t do that to them either. The only thing I learned from my family is how badly I needed to get away from them.”

“Hmmm, is that what’s keeping you up at night?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“No, just had a bad dream. It was our duel in the winter, in my dream we killed each other and bled out in the snow.” Taigen explained.

“That didn’t happen. Instead, I guess we’re here.” Mizu stared back out at the horizon; the sun was beginning to rise.

“All my life I wanted to get the fuck out of Kohama and now I’m going to London. Wherever here is, I like that I get to spend it with you.” Taigen leaned into her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She neither leaned in nor pulled away.

“I was wrong about my family. I was wrong about who I was. If I’m a demon I’m a demon of my own creation, not my father’s.”

“You’re not a demon Mizu.”

“I’m just so tired,” she lay her head on Taigen’s shoulders and closed her eyes. He could feel the exhaustion in her breath.

“I know.” Taigen closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. This time he did not dream. Perhaps, in some way, the vengeful onryo and arrogant young samurai had bled out in the snow, identities shed so that they could truly find who they were meant to be.

Notes:

I had a plan for this chapter. I wrote it and the words took a completely different path than intended so I listened.

Chapter 29: Mizu

Notes:

And now we're officially back at sea! Hope you enjoy.

I'm thinking about writing a few side stories in the universe of this fanfiction (i.e. what Ringo is up to), would anyone read them and does anyone have suggestions for them? If so, sharing is caring!

Of all the ways Mizu had been woken up in her life, being poked with a chopstick was far from the worst. However, it was easily one of the most annoying.

“Mizu, Mizu, you gotta eat, I brought you food. The cook insists you have some fruit, so you don’t get scurvy,” her bunkmate insisted. One of these days Mizu would have to ask Johannes what scurvy was.

While Mizu would have preferred her own private cabin, she wound up sharing one with Ryo, the captain’s son. Stretching out, Mizu could see she was in her bunk. Her bunk. Mizu couldn’t remember how she got there. The last thing she remembered was her conversation with Taigen and falling asleep on his shoulder. She had been terrified of having that conversation with him, having played the possibilities over and over again in her mind before they’d talked. She expected him to be angrier, she was grateful he wasn’t. More and more she found his presence a comfort.

“Thank you,” Ryo had brought her a bowl of chopped papaya, cold stew, and tea, “how did I get here? How long was I asleep?” Mizu picked up a piece of papaya, suddenly realizing how hungry she actually was.

“Day and a bit, give or take,” Ryo informed her, “Taigen carried you down here. He came down to check on you this morning”. Mizu vaguely remembered having a cup of tea and using the piss bucket but little else. She hadn’t had a single dream. She’d slept like a rock tossed into the ocean, sinking to the bottom.

“I see.” Mizu rubbed her eyes. They were less red than they had been. She was stiff from sleep but somehow felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“You were tired. I guess finally meeting your father took a lot out of you. I still can’t believe you’re real.” Ryo poked her again with the chopstick.

“Now I know why when your father met me on the docks, he looked as though he’d seen a ghost.” All along Daisuke had intended to do his friend a favour. He’d encouraged Mizu to take his ship to Europe rather than one of Fowler’s. The rest of the trip was secondary to him, his goal had been to reunite Mizu with her father.

“You were a ghost,” Ryo explained, “I’ve known Kaito my whole life, he’s like an uncle to me. Losing you and your mother completely destroyed him. The man was a mess. He drank a lot and he’d just keep rambling on about it. Growing up, I kept hearing stories about his little blue-eyed ghost girl. When I wanted to scare the other kids in Nagasaki, I’d make up stories about your ghost wandering the docks looking for her family. I never even thought there was a chance you were alive, that I would meet you in the flesh.”

“Sorry Ryo, guess you need to come up with some new stories to scare children with,” Mizu sighed. If she hadn’t been a dog or a demon, she’d been a ghost. Everyone seemed to have a story about her. All stories told with the intention of reminding children to fear the unknown.

“No, I’m sorry Mizu. I’m sorry you didn’t get to grow up with your parents. That you had to run. That you had to hide who you were for so long you now have no idea who you are. Dad and Kaito are childhood friends, we would have been us too,” Ryo lamented, “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I talked to much and everyone thought I was weird. I only met Ren and Nobu a few years ago but before that I was a really lonely kid.”

“Hmmm.” Mizu finished the fruit, had nearly drunk all of her tea, and was moving on to the bowl of stew. She thought about her own childhood in Kohama, first in the hut at the edge of the woods with mama where she’d watched longingly as the other kids played outside, then after when she lived on the streets of the town having become painfully aware that those kids were not her friends.

“Your ghost was my imaginary friend, I used to talk to you like you were actually there. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.” Mizu’s circumstances might have been unique, but it appeared her childhood loneliness was not.

“I bet you’re glad you’re not a kid anymore.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience. Taigen told me some.” Ryo hopped into his bunk. As far as roommates were concerned, she could have done far worse for herself. Mizu found Ryo to be a chatterbox, but he had no ill-intentions and most importantly did not snore. She suspected that Ryo and Ringo would get along if they ever had the opportunity to interact.

“What experiences exactly did he tell you?” Mizu couldn’t help but wonder what Taigen had told the crew about their experiences growing up in Kohama.

“Mainly that his childhood sucked, and he coped with it by being an asshole to you.”

“That pretty much covers it.”

“He regrets it.”

“I know,” Mizu sighed, “me too”. It was an old scar. She’d seen Taigen, he was trying to unlearn the cruelty he’d been raised on and once accepted as truth. She wondered if it was easier for him to stop seeing her as a demon that it was for her to stop seeing herself as one. If nothing else, they would be able to look at each other with open eyes. “Ryo, is it morning or afternoon?”

“Afternoon, bit after lunch. What I brought you was lunch. You should stretch, bit of fresh air might do you good,” Ryo suggested.

“Thank you,” Mizu nodded. She’d finished her food and tea. Stacking the dishes together, her first order of business was to return them to the kitchen.

Getting out of her bunk she stretched and took a deep breath. It was easier to breathe without her chest bindings. The only person she needed to put on appearances for was Fowler, otherwise she was free to dress as she wished. Mizu felt the stiffness of sleep still in her joints, but this would pass. She picked up the dishes and was about to head towards the door had she not heard footsteps approaching.

“Mizu, you’re awake.” Taigen walked up to the door. He was tall enough to bang his head on the doorframes if he did not look where he was going.

“Yeah, finally,” she laughed awkwardly, “I guess I was tired.”

“I haven’t seen you sleep this long since escaping Fowler’s castle.”

“I know, feels like a lifetime ago.” Mizu looked down at her rumpled clothes, back in Japan she’d have never let him see her this unkempt and vulnerable.

“I can take those back to the kitchen for you,” Taigen pointed to the dishes she was carrying.

“Thanks Taigen, that would be great.” He took the dishes, his hands brushing hers in the process. His hands weren’t elegant, but they were steady, and his touch was either strong or gentle depending on what he needed them to be.

“Get some fresh air, you’ll feel better,” he suggested, heading out of the cabin.

“Thanks for checking up on me.” Mizu smiled, she felt warm inside in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Anytime,” Taigen smiled back. He’d really come alive aboard the ship. When not overcome by ego, he was good company. Looking back at Ryo, her bunkmate grinned wickedly.

“Someone has a crush,” he winked. The realization hit Mizu like a tidal wave.

“Fuck off Ryo.” If the ship had collapsed in on itself and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, in that moment Mizu would have welcomed it.

Chapter 30: Taigen

Notes:

After that last fic I wrote I had to write something less depressing so here we go. Voila, new chapter.

Two weeks back on the ship since leaving Batavia and Taigen knew it was time to stop procrastinating. Walking down to the kitchen of the ship, Taigen had accepted his fate. A question he did not like the answer to with a solution he’d dreaded for far too long.

It was early in the afternoon. Lunch was over and as he suspected; Johannes was in the kitchen washing dishes.

“Oh, hi Taigen,” the cook waved at him, “if you want to help me with the dishes, I’ll wash them, and you can dry them.”

“Actually Johannes, can I ask you something? Please answer me honestly.”

“Alright,” he raised an eyebrow, a concerned expression on his face.

“How bad does my hair look?”

“I laugh every time I see it.”

“Oh.” He ran his hand through his hair awkwardly. He didn’t mind it from the front but even though he no longer had a bald patch he knew the back was still uneven.

“I can show you,” Johannes offered.

“Alright.” Taigen wasn’t sure he wanted to know how mangled it actually was. He watched Johannes pull out a small mirror from a drawer.

“If you stand with your back to the big mirror on the wall and hold the small one in front of you, it should to the trick,” the cook explained. Following his instructions, Taigen was able to get a good look at the back of his head. It worse than he thought. His hair stuck out in all directions and despite slowly growing back over the months was still a complete disaster.

“Yikes,” he cringed, “I didn’t realize it was actually that bad.”

“It is, I’m surprised you were willing to go out in public looking like that.”

“It’s better than it was, back when Mizu hacked up my hair in the winter I had a bald spot for ages.”

“Yes, but it was winter, I’m assuming you wore a hat.”

“No?” Taigen hadn’t even thought to wear a hat.

“You just ran around in the winter, with that hair, and a bald spot? People saw you like that?” Johannes blinked in disbelief.

“It sounds pretty awful when you put it that way.”

“It looks pretty awful to anyone with eyes.”

“That’s why I’m here. Can you fix it?”

“I think so,” Johannes inspected his hair, trying to make sense of the mess in the back of his head. “What I can do is cut it so it’s all the same length.”

“I hate it already, please do it.” This was what Taigen was dreading.

“Alright, I do need to get a few things, so I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The cook left him alone with his thoughts. Akemi had tried talking him into shaving his head after his ill-fated duel at the dojo. He supposed cutting off most of his hair was better than shaving all of it. For most of his life, Taigen had worn his hair long and in a topknot as was expected of him. When Mizu had sliced it off, she’d taken with it his place in society. Still, however mangled his hair had been he hadn’t wanted to change it post-duel. A dishonoured samurai had still, at one point, been a samurai. Without it, he was just a man. A nobody. Being a nobody bothered him less these days, especially on the ship. Still, it was hard to let go of one of the few visual reminders of the life he once had.

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret this.” Taigen sat away from the mirror, half ready to change his mind.

“I would have to try very hard to make this worse.” Johannes combed Taigen’s hair; he tied a sheet around his shoulders to prevent his hair from getting on his clothing. “What finally made you decide to fix your hair?” Johannes asked as he started cutting.

“Mizu’s dad, he pointed out how conspicuous it was. I’d gotten used to it and forgotten. I’m guessing it’s not the style in Europe.”

“It’s not the style anywhere.”

“What is the style in Europe?” Taigen hadn’t ever considered that people might dress differently than they had in Japan until he’d seen the diversity of cultures in Batavia.

“Wealthy men tend to wear their hair long and curled though more often than not they wear wigs. For the rest of us it depends, some men are bald, some have short hair, some wear their hair long. I never had long hair before, I only grew it out for the trip because I knew it was more common in Japan,” Johannes explained. Despite being mixed-race, his straight black hair was indistinguishable from anyone in Japan.

“We have similar hair.”

“I’ve always hated mine, it was different, and I often got made fun of for it,” he admitted.

“I never thought twice about my hair until Mizu hacked it up. She fought her way through the dojo I had trained at. She was there for information, but we ended up fighting. She got what she wanted and was going to leave but I called her a dog just that one last time, so she cut off my topknot to dishonour me,” Taigen explained. Looking back, he felt worse about how he’d treated her than anything else.

“So, you don’t just have hair issues, you have status and identity issues.”

“It I’m not a samurai, I’m a nobody.”

“You’re going to Amsterdam, and then London, none of those things matters. When you’re there you’ll be a foreigner regardless of how your hair looks.”

“Mizu’s learning English. I should probably learn Dutch.” The majority of the crew spoke Dutch, and even when he got back to Japan, assuming he survived the journey, he’d be able to communicate with visiting merchants at the Dejima.

“I can teach you,” the cook offered, a few minutes every day for the remaining months of the voyage.” Months, Taigen often forgot how long this trip to London would actually take.

“How long do you think it will be until I see Japan again?”

“Oh, I’d give it a good two years.”

“Wow, uh, that’s a long time.” Taigen had not thought about how long the trip to London would be when he’d first stowed away on the ship.

“Your hair will have grown back by then.”

“I guess so.” Taigen picked up a clump of hair in his lap. “You know, I’ve never had short hair before. Think I’ll be able to recognise myself?”

“You might not love it, but you’ll adjust. Perhaps not right away but in time. That’s how I feel about having grown out my own hair. I’m almost done so soon you can decide for yourself.”

“How bad is it?”

“So far so good. It’s a different look but not a bad one,” Johannes shrugged, focused as ever. Taigen wondered if he would be able to recognise himself. He let his mind wander as the cook finished up with his hair. Even after, he sat idly until he heard footsteps down the hall. Ryo and Mizu walked into the kitchen carrying boxes.

“We got the nails out of the hardtack. Enough nails to fill a bucket,” Ryo announced, shaking the bucket for dramatic effect, “oh, hi Taigen.” Ryo waved at him, Mizu stared at him and blinked.

“If my hair looks bad, you don’t get to have an opinion on it.”

“Hmmm,” Mizu reached out and ruffled his hair. He could feel that it was long enough for her to run her fingers through, but not long enough to grab, “I think you’ll live.”

“I’m not sure I want to look,” Taigen admitted as Johannes untied the sheet from his shoulders and brushed off the remaining hair.

“It’s too late to do anything about it now,” Johannes patted him on the head. Taigen sighed, accepting his fate. He walked over to the mirror and faced his reflection. He’d assumed he would look terrible, but he didn’t, his face hadn’t changed. He just looked different. His hair was shorter than it had ever been or that he’d choose to wear it. It was slightly shaggy and stood up in some places, but it was even, and he no longer looked as though he lost a fight. It would grow out but until then he’d adjust. Disgraced samurai no longer, Taigen was unsure of the identity of the man staring back at him in the mirror. He supposed the identity of that man was for him to decide.

Chapter 31: Fowler

Summary:

It's been a while since I wrote a Fowler chapter hasn't it?

It was becoming increasingly clear to Fowler that he was running out of leverage. Ever since their stop in East Indies, he could tell that Mizu had changed. She came to visit him regularly for English lessons, she took well to the language and was a diligent student. She dressed the same as ever. She brought him trays of the same disgusting meals. But looking into her eyes, Fowler knew that she was not the same.

Fowler had the sense that Mizu was no longer as angry as she’d once been. Unlike the fearsome swordsman who had sliced her way up his castle and burned Edo to the ground, there was no more rage in this woman’s eyes. Fowler wouldn’t say she was a happy woman, he doubted she was capable of such a thing, but it was impossible not to notice how the all-consuming anger which had once burned inside of her had been dampened somehow. In its place, a grim nod of acceptance towards the path she was on. No less dangerous, but perhaps after seeing the diversity of the Dutch colonies, she’d moved on to a new stage of grief.

Her pet samurai, Taigen as the sailors reminded him, was now aware of her being a woman. They seemed aware of this fact as well. This gave him one less piece of leverage at his disposal, a power over Mizu that he no longer had. If she’d gotten off the boat in the East Indies she would have seen other pairs of blue eyes, perhaps for the first time in her life. Perhaps she’d even met some other half-breeds. Perhaps she’d learned that hard lesson that she really wasn’t special. Perhaps in her sword skills, but not in her parentage.

At least today, she had brought some break in the monotony. Fowler had taunted Mizu about being a woman the other day, in spite of her efforts to keep up appearances around him. Today she’d made no such efforts to conceal her gender. Looking at her, Fowler could finally see what he had to work with.

If Fowler had to describe Mizu’s appearance in one word, that word would be austere. Even if she made no attempts to hide the body under them, she wore the same clothes as ever. Plain, well-worn, and practical, but as clean as she could manage. She was still tall and thin with the same serious face. Her skin was clean, but she’d made no efforts to improve the quality of it. Her shoulder-length hair was long enough to tie up into a topknot but not long enough to require much significant upkeep. For once she wore it down, it was neatly brushed and tucked behind her ears. Her bangs were probably the only sign of personal expression in her appearance but even they were growing out and brushed out of her face. There was a joylessness about her. Fowler knew that Mizu’s looks were a point of misery for her but not in a way that gave him any power. This was a woman who completely lacked vanity, either she did not know what beauty was or assumed it did not apply to her and was a waste of time to pursue. Perhaps she’d find kindred spirits in the puritans who were running England these days.

“Do I look like her?” she asked, shoving him the breakfast tray, “Do I look like my mother?” There was a sadness in Mizu’s eyes he’d never seen before. She’d changed somehow but perhaps this meant new weaknesses.

“You have Routley eyes.” Mizu very much had her mother’s eyes. Unfortunately for her she’d inherited little else of Eliza’s beauty. Not that it would have meant anything in Japan if she had. But Eliza wasn’t the only Routley. This was where Fowler still had the upper hand.

“Routley, my father was Routley.” Mizu frowned. As far as Fowler knew, she was none the wiser.

“Your father was one James Routley. Sorry, he is one James Routley, he’s still alive. You have a half-brother in London. His name is Henry.” Thomas Routley was the flesh-trader. James Routley was a physician and if Thomas’s letters were to be believed his son was following in his footsteps. Fowler had a soft spot for Thomas, his vast network of whorehouses across the world had satisfied him wherever he went. It was him who had introduced Fowler and Shindo to Madame Kaji and her girls. James Routley had always looked at his brother’s business dealings with disgust. Him and his son might be the best allies Mizu could get in London. But not if she killed them before asking any questions.

“And what of Skeffington? Who is he?”

“Lord Peter Skeffington is a smuggler trying to rebuild his once great family legacy after generations of decay. Last I checked you could find him doing business in London.” Though true, Skeffington spent most of his time at his ancestral home of Skeffington Hall. Despite being the one who killed her, Eliza’s death had left him increasingly unhinged and paranoid. Skeffington had three daughters, but he was obsessed with having a male heir. Fowler thought it foolish how he felt needed to have a son and was obsessed with legacy. A waste of fucking time. Nonetheless, Skeffington had taken more wives than Henry the eighth and each one of them had died before being able to give birth to a child. Skeffington was convinced that Eliza had cursed his bloodline from beyond the grave. The letters Fowler had received from Skeffington Hall weren’t even from him but rather Catherine. His eldest daughter was managing his affairs as Skeffington descended further and further into madness. Despite her insistence that she should inherit his legacy, lord Skeffington would not relent. The more Fowler heard of the Skeffington family conflicts, the more he was grateful to not have any legitimate children and left his bastards to drown under his castle.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Mizu glared in through the bars of his prison. Her expression a mix of disgust and disbelief.

“That’s the thing love. You don’t.” He shoved the empty tray back out to her. “Do you trust me?”

“No.” She stared at him blankly. Fowler expected her to be angry, instead there was an emptiness behind her eyes that worried him more than the ocean of rage they had previously held.

“Then why the hell are you even here?”

“You tell me?” Mizu crossed her arms and leaned against a crate.

“I know why you’re here Little Miss. You’re here because you have nowhere else to go. I’m the only person on this ship who knew your parents. Who knew your mother. Don’t you want to know about your mother?”

“What do you know about my mother?”

“As I said before, she was a pretty girl with bad luck. Your dear mother was the sister of a brothel owner until a rich white man made an offer on her. She was as much for sale as any of the whores. He kept her as a trophy until her grew tired of her and replaced her with another wife. And then another. And then another.”

“I see,” Mizu frowned, “he hated my mother, to him she was disposable.”

“We’re all disposable. Either you’re screwing people, or you’re being screwed. That’s just the way it’s always been. Nothing’s gonna change.”

“I’ve changed.” Mizu picked up his tray and walked out without another word.

Chapter 32: Taigen

Notes:

I had to write something that wasn't filling out forms and spreadsheets so voila, new chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

Also shoutout to Livia3909 for helping me out with research that will come in handy later on.

“Fowler’s full of shit.” Mizu announced as she walked back into the kitchen. She slid the empty tray on top of the pile of dirty dishes. This time Taigen was making good on his promise to help Johannes wash them. He scrubbed a peculiar brown stain off of a bowl as she joined them in the kitchen, trying not to think too hard of what exactly he was cleaning.

“New shit or the same old stinkers?” Johannes asked, boiling nails in a small pot. The entire kitchen smelled of metal.

“He’s trying to mislead me.” The cook handed her a cloth and she joined them in cleaning the dishes. Taigen washed, Mizu dried, Johannes put everything away.

“Mizu, the man eats rats for fun. I’m pretty sure that’s the only sincere thing I’ve seen him do aboard the ship.” Taigen winced at the memory. He spent as little time in the cargo hold as possible. His fingernails itched every time he went near there. Abijah Fowler was easily his least favourite person aboard the ship.

“I know enough to know when he’s lying. Fowler doesn’t know what I know. He knew my mother, but he probably doesn’t even remember my father.” Now that Taigen had met Mizu’s father, it was impossible to ignore the family resemblance. He couldn’t picture her as a demon now, even if he wanted to. Taigen had seen sketches of Mizu’s mother; he’d looked her father in the eye and promised not to break her heart. Perhaps there was wisdom to Kaito’s words, underneath her drive for revenge, Mizu was just a woman trying to mend her broken heart. Even if she herself had yet to figure out how.

It had been interesting to watch Mizu’s attempts at figuring out what to do with herself now that she no longer had to hide the fact that she was a woman. She hadn’t sought out new clothes. Perhaps she would in Mauritius or Cape Town, and they would all need western clothes once they got to Europe, but for now, Mizu stuck to what she had. At times she’d wear her clothes looser or tighter, playing around with the placement of her belt. She’d stopped binding her breasts as well. Mizu’s clothes no longer looked like a costume and Taigen found it difficult to ignore the fact that, though tall and lean, she very much had a woman’s body.

Along with her clothes, Mizu had stopped wearing her glasses, and only wore a scarf on occasion, usually the one he’d gotten for her. She’d gotten back into wearing her sun hat in the heat of the day and her face was no longer burned. Taigen was lucky in that respect, his skin seemed to tan rather than turn red in the sun.

Her hair was another area of experimentation. She seemed to be growing her bangs out and was unsure how to wear them. Usually, Mizu brushed them out of her face, and she’d taken to changing how she parted her hair on a regular basis. The rest of her hair was usually tied up in some sort of ponytail which varied from day to day. Today however, she’d worn it down and tucked her hair behind her ears. It was clean and plain, devoid of any attempts to express herself. Mizu had tried to present Fowler with a blank slate. She had nothing to show and nothing to hide.

“Did he tell you anything about your father?” Taigen wondered.

“He told me I had Routley eyes,” Mizu looked up at him, Taigen would say she had haunted eyes more than anything, “my mother’s name was Eliza Routley, until she married a man named Peter Skeffington. She has two brothers. Thomas Routley who was the flesh trader who came to Japan, and James Routley who is a physician back in London. Fowler wants me to believe my father is the latter.”

“Routley, I know that name. One Henry Routley in particular. You do have the same eyes.” Johannes laughed nervously.

“James Routley’s son. He’d be my cousin. How do you know him?”

“Biblically.” Taigen had no idea what that meant and judging by her blank expression, neither did Mizu. Johannes took a deep breath. “Trust me Mizu, Henry’s no flesh trader. That man’s never looked at a woman in his life.”

“Did you meet in London?” Mizu raised an eyebrow. Taigen was glad to see she was as confused as he was.

“Obviously. I was working for my brother-in-law, as one does, in spite of the trade wars between the Dutch Republic and the English. Henry was taking a semester off of university and was back in town from Padua. We enjoyed each other’s company until he headed back off to finish medical school and I came to Japan,” the cook explained, Taigen wondered why he sounded so awkward in describing his friend.

“Johannes, I had no idea you were into that type of…peculiarity. My focus was elsewhere.”

“Oh Mizu, you’re not the only one with secrets. You see, when people aren’t busy hating me for being a degenerate mongrel, they find room in their hearts to hate me for being a degenerate cocksucker. It’s not a part of myself I wish to announce to the world.” Mizu laughed. Taigen was taken aback. For all the time he’d spent with them he hadn’t noticed that Mizu was a woman or that Johannes was attracted to men. Taigen was starting to think that he was not the most observant person on the ship.

“Any chance my cousin might want to see you again?” The cook grinned wickedly at the suggestion.

“I’ll write him a letter once we reach Amsterdam. Perhaps he can put us up. He’d be curious about you.”

“I’ll take him over any lead Fowler might have for me in London. If this works out, we won’t need Fowler at all.”

“So, what happens to him? Are we just gonna let him sit here or what?” Taigen hated the idea of an unsupervised Fowler in a rotting cage he could escape from.

“We keep him for now. I can’t promise where his lies will lead us. When the time is right, I’ll have one less man to kill. He will not be mourned,” she answered with conviction. Mizu stepped back from the dishes as Johannes handed her a cup of the water from the boiled nails. She drank it with a grimace.

“Why are you drinking that?” Taigen wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“I do my best to make decent meals with the food I have, but we are on a ship and resources are limited. My mother used to boil nails for herself and my sisters to prevent anemia from monthly bleeding. Though based on the stories I’ve heard from the both of you, it’s wonder Mizu has any blood left at this point,” Johannes explained.

“Guess I’m just a woman after all.” She took another sip. If someone had told Taigen a year ago, he would find himself standing across from Japan’s greatest swordsman in the kitchen of a ship drinking boiled nails his younger self would have smacked them.

“I’m still not used to this.” Taigen ran his fingers through his hair. Another thing he wasn’t used to.

“Your ego doesn’t need it, but you look fine,” Mizu admitted. Taigen went back to the mirror to catch a glimpse of himself.

“I guess it’s not as hideous as I expected.” He didn’t look bad, but he still had trouble recognising himself. Not that he knew who he was anymore. Mizu was laughing, he shot her a glare, “What’s so funny?”

“Not as hideous as I expected, those were the first words my husband ever said to me when we met.”

“Sounds like a charmer. Mizu, why did you marry this man?” Johannes shook his head, putting away a few last dishes.

“The woman I thought was my mother arranged it. She needed someone to take care of her. I had no good options at the time.”

“Do you miss him? Your husband?” Taigen tried to picture Mizu as a proper wife doting on some faceless husband. He wondered what she would look like in a kimono, he’d only ever seen her in travelling attire and that one musty brown yukata she’s worn while cleaning her aforementioned travelling clothes.

“I miss thinking I could have been a wife. That and I miss my horse.” There was a deep sadness in her eyes, a sense of grief older than any rage or quest for revenge that had sprung up as a result of it.

“Good news for you, men and horses are not exactly rare commodities. I know little of your husband other than that he tried to have you killed. There’s no shortage of dreadful men in this world but not wanting to be murdered by your husband is a reasonable request, I’m certain you could find someone who could live up to your standards. Perhaps you will even wish to have children someday.” Mizu’s eyes widened at the cook’s words. Taigen thought of his own father’s drunken rages and his own mother’s misery. His mother was hardly the only woman in Kohama with a miserable marriage.

“I never thought of living long enough to bring more demons into the world,” She confessed, taking one last sip of the horrible nail tea.

“Mizu, if there was a demon in your marriage it wasn’t you.” Johannes patted her on the shoulder. Taigen had never met Mizu’s husband, he did not know his name, but he wished he could dig up his corpse, bring him back to life, and kill him again.

Chapter 33: Mizu

Notes:

Hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading <3

They were but days away from reaching Mauritius when Mizu finally decided to give her father’s sword a proper look. She’d used a wooden sword for her daily training sessions while stashing her father’s sword under her bunk. Despite having been a gift, she was hesitant to handle it. Mizu felt as though the sword did not belong to her. Swordfather had never ceased to remind her that the sword was the soul of the samurai. If that was the case, her father had given her his without so much as a second thought. As though it was hers to begin with.

She pulled the dusty sword out from under her bunk when she heard a gentle knock at the door. Mizu got up to answer. Whoever it was, she knew it wasn’t Ryo at the door. Ryo never knocked, he always swung the door open when he came in and slammed it shut when he left.

“I thought you’d be here.” Taigen leaned against the doorframe with his usual easygoing smile. Mizu bit her lip, “you never eat with the crew.”

“I guess it’s a habit.” Since boarding the ship, Mizu had taken her meals in her bunk. She hadn’t wanted the crew to get to know her, and especially hadn’t wanted them to know she was a woman. Eating alone was a routine she had yet to break.

“You don’t need to, wait, is that a sword?” Taigen looked over to the sword on her bunk.

“My father’s,” she nodded, “he gave it to me. He said the only way it could protect me was if his sword was in my hands. I figure I should get to know it.” She sat back down on her bunk, picking up the sword. Taigen sat down beside her.

Her father had tried to clear the worst of the dust off of his sword but there was still plenty trapped in the grooves of the hilt and the scabbard. Mizu wondered how many years it had been since her father had used it. Standing up, she unsheathed the sword. It had a makers mark she didn’t recognise. If Mizu had made this sword she wouldn’t have bothered to sign it. The weight was off, the blade was chipped, and the mix of metals was clearly wrong. The blade had too many impurities. Mizu supposed the sword was serviceable, good enough for stabbing in a pinch, but Master Eiji wouldn’t have even allowed her to use it as a kitchen knife. She’d made better knives than this when she was seven.

“Your father was a palace guard,” Taigen’s eyes widened, “when Ringo and I broke into the Shogun’s palace to warn him about Fowler, the guards had swords like this.”

“Clearly the Shogun did not fear his palace would be invaded. This sword is trash. If I ever made a sword of this quality, Master Eiji would smack me on the head with his tongs. Even the first sword I ever crafted was far better than this, and that sword broke.” The more Mizu looked at the sword, the more she was disgusted with it. This was a sword without a soul. No wonder her father had been so keen to part with it.

“Blood-soaked Chiaki’s broken blade, that was you?” Mizu nodded, “You made that sword?”

“It was my first sword. It wasn’t my best. Master Eiji let me make a number of swords for clients over the years. By the time I forged my own sword, I’d gotten a solid grasp on how to make them. Every sword is different, just as every swordsman is different. I watched them train, how the moved, their posture, how they held their sword, who they were. Swordfather let me practice at night,” Mizu explained. She sheathed the sword and sat back down on the bunk.

“That’s how you trained, alone in the dark.” Taigen looked at her sadly. Mizu handed him the sword. Even with its poor quality, it was a much better fit in his hands than her own.

“I was always alone in the dark. Master Eiji said my sword shattered because it was too pure, I fear I was too single-minded in my quest.”

“You never fixed it, your sword?”

“No, I melted it down, the steel is there. If one day I am worthy of it, I will ask Master Eiji to reforge it for me.” It made sense to Mizu now, if she survived her journey, she would be worthy of her sword. In a way, she felt as though she was reforging her own soul.

“And here I thought a great sword was just a status symbol,” Taigen admitted, scratching at the dust in the hilt of the sword.

“We’ve had no shortage of clients like that over the years. Tell me Taigen, what is a sword to you?” More and more, Mizu found that she sounded like Swordfather. With his tanned skin and shorn hair, Taigen looked very little like the arrogant swordsman she’d once dueled in what felt like a previous life. No one would mistake this version of him for a samurai, but he was unquestionably a better man.

“I uh, I never thought about that. I guess, a sword was a promise of a better life. It was the only path I had to cut myself out of poverty, out of despair, out of becoming my father. If I was good enough with a sword, I could be strong enough so no one could hurt me again. The actual sword, that’s just a tool. Same as a fisherman’s net. I got caught up and it got to my head,” he confessed, putting the sword down beside him.

“Your soul was never in your sword. Perhaps my father was the same.” Unlike Taigen, her father had seen his sword as a tool to protect his family. It had failed him at every turn.

“That’s how most of the samurai I knew felt,” Taigen shrugged, “I never heard a single boy at the dojo talk about souls unless they were trying to suck up to someone.”

“I see.” Perhaps Swordfather had raised her to be an artist after all. A part of her missed working at the forge.

“I feel like I’m being reforged, I have no idea who I am. I’m definitely not a samurai anymore. I barely recognise myself.” He looked at her like a sad dog. At this, Mizu ran her fingers through the back of his hair. It was soft and thick, and she couldn’t tell which part of it she’d sliced off in the winter. Whatever mark she’d left on him had been lost to time. Her fingers wanted to linger over the rest of him, but she knew enough to pull back.

“You look good.” Johannes had been clever about his hair. it looked perfectly decent now, but Mizu could tell that it would really start to look nice as it grew out. Assuming Taigen was patient enough, in a month or so he’d start to like his hair again. It pained her to admit it, but she’d always found him handsome. In the past, Taigen’s smugness had been enough to wash away most of the attraction she felt towards him. But he’d changed, he’d grown warmer and more considerate of others. He made her feel warm in a way that no one else had before. She feared that warmth, she’d already burned one city down, no need to char what remained of her heart. And yet she found herself drawn in. In spite of her better judgement.

“Daisuke said so too. Apparently, the crew were wondering if I’d ever fix my hair.” Taigen stood up and stretched. He looked comfortable, domestic, as though the ship had truly become his home.

“They have nothing better to talk about. We’re on a boat together for seven months.”

“Which is why you should eat in the mess hall. Come, join us for dinner tonight.” At this point Taigen was practically pleading her to come. Saying no to him would be like kicking a sad dog. It wouldn’t kill her to have one meal with the crew.

“Alright. Dinner it is,” Taigen grinned. Perhaps he was still a little smug. Perhaps Mizu didn’t mind.

Chapter 34: Mizu

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Mizu never liked crowds. At times they were helpful in order to disappear into, but she never felt comfortable being surrounded by people. Being in groups left her with a lingering sense of dread. The more people were in her presence, the greater chance one of them might recognise her for what she actually was. In Japan she’d been careful. She bound her breasts and wore a scarf around her neck to hide her gender. She wore her sunhat to hide her features and orange glasses to hide her eyes. She was always hiding.

She sought out people as she needed, most often for supplies or information. Her words were sparse, efficient, with no flourish or waste. Not since Mizu was a child did she try to make a friend.

Swordfather had been a man of few words. She’d learned his craft by doing and learned to be a swordsman on her own. Mama was a woman of more words but of little conversation. Mizu often felt as though mama talked at rather than to her. Mikio talked to her when he wanted something. For a brief period, Mizu thought he would listen as well as talk. She was mistaken.

Ringo was a talker. Not just to Mizu, but to himself, to the trees, and to anyone he came across. He annoyed her. She missed him terribly. Ringo’s words were chatter, like chirping birds or whistling winds they’d become part of the landscape of her journey. Perhaps his words would bring Swordfather comfort. Perhaps Swordfather’s silence would give him room to speak.

Since leaving Japan, Mizu’d had no choice but to be in close contact with others. Even on a Dutch merchant ship there was only so much space. The crew were fine with her, but more often than not she lived a parallel life to the rest of the ship. She spent much of her time on ship maintenance such as fixing sails, laundry, and cleaning the deck. Chores that did not require her to spend time with anyone. Mizu’d had conversations with most of them, but these were more utilitarian than anything. She hadn’t gotten to know them. This, however had exceptions. She thought of Johannes’s thoughtfulness and humour, Ryo’s openness and sincerity, and Daisuke’s wisdom and his loyalty to his friends and crew.

Taigen had been an unexpected element in her journey. She’d not expected him to follow her halfway across the world on a cramped ship to a foreign land. He’d fit into her journey more than Mizu had ever expected. He’d outgrown the fish guts and fish minds he’d been fighting against his whole life, though Mizu was unsure who he would become at the end of everything. For now, she was grateful to have him by her side. She felt selfish for wanting him there.

It was because of Taigen that Mizu was eating in the mess hall of the ship for the first time. She’d been there before, usually to clean up after meals, but she’d never eaten with the crew. That’s not to say she always ate alone, at times she’d eaten in the kitchen with Johannes and occasionally Taigen, and at times she’d eaten with Fowler in the cargo hold. Still, communal eating spaces were foreign for Mizu. She’d stopped for meals on her travels, or taken them with Ringo, but she’d never shared meals in a communal space and been part of the community, rather than an outsider hiding in the corners or the shadows, staying only until she had a reason to leave.

There was much chatter in the mess hall. For the crew of the ship, dinner seemed as much a chance to talk as it was a chance to eat. Mizu was not one to talk and eat. Swordfather had taken his meals in silence before going back to work. Mizu had adopted this philosophy towards eating as well. The entire purpose of food was to refuel oneself quickly and quietly so that one’s body could sustain itself throughout one’s endeavors. To talk through a meal had always felt like a waste of time. It drew unnecessary attention to oneself, especially as a traveller.

The quality of the chatter around her baffled Mizu as much as the quantity. Most of it was truly a waste of air. Some of the conversations around her had more relevance than others. Daisuke was talking to Tohru, his first mate, about the dire state of the Dutch colony in Mauritius and the pros and cons of diverting future voyages through Ceylon even if it meant more time at sea. A worthwhile conversation, but one Mizu would rather not have over dinner. Johannes was complaining to Hideki the navigator, an old stocky man with a long white beard whom Johannes had jokingly referred to as Sinterklaas, about English politics and isolationism. He lamented that Cromwell had gone so far as to declare a war on Christmas celebrations. Taigen had asked Johannes what Christmas was and that seemed to get Johannes going onto a long string of irrelevant personal anecdotes. On Mizu’s other side, Ryo was arguing with Ren and Nobu about whether the cloud they’d seen this morning looked like a cat or a fox. To make matters worse, Ryo would flick her ponytail from time to time, to get her attention in order to convince her that the cloud did indeed look like a cat. With the endless supply of maintenance work to do aboard the ship, Mizu did not think it mattered what animal a passing cloud may have resembled.

Mizu dipped a piece of hardtack into tea. She chewed it in silence. The sailors around her looked so comfortable babbling on about irrelevant trivialities. Then it hit her: this was normal. Sharing meals and stories after a day of work was something people did. Something everyone aboard the ship had a lifetime of experience in. Experience that she could never catch up on. Much more than being a woman, spending nearly her entire life hiding away from people was the thing that truly set her apart from others. It set her apart from the world. Mizu could not hold a simple dinner conversation. She did not know how.

At least with the dinner conversation came the dinner itself. Mizu kept herself occupied chewing a particularly gristly chunk of salted pork. This way she could just sit. Alone. Surrounded by people.

“See, it’s not so bad, eating with people.” Taigen smiled at her. Of course he did. It was the easiest thing in the world for him.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mizu confessed, skimming dead weevils off the top of her stew.

“We always ate together at the dojo, it’s one of the things I missed about that place,” Mizu remembered the meagre porridge and judgemental stares she’d gotten there as hospitality.

“I’ve never been welcome.” Mizu snapped a piece of hardtack into her stew. It broke with such force that it shattered into crumbs. She looked up at him, his warm brown eyes full of regret.

“Hey,” he reached out and held her hand, his fingers intertwined with her own, “you’re welcome here.” He pulled her into the conversation he’d been having, which mainly consisted of Johannes rambling on about the intricacies of English-Dutch trade relations which did not concern Mizu in the slightest. Taigen looked as confused by it as she was. It brought her an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was. Perhaps she did not want to be.

Notes:

Not gonna lie, this one really gnawed at my brain for a bit.

Chapter 35: Taigen

Notes:

I can't believe I've written 35 chapters of this so far. Thanks for sticking with me. All comments, ideas, and suggestions are welcome as always.

Once again, Taigen found himself looking for Mizu. She’d let him convince her to eat dinner with the crew, and after her initial awkwardness, she did manage to settle in. He’d taken his own comfort with groups for granted and hadn’t realized how sharing a meal with others could be an unfamiliar experience for her. He’d felt proud when she’d finally eased up and laughed at a few jokes. Taigen appreciated the fleeting moments when she was not so tense and guarded as the world had taught her to be. She’d headed off after dinner, likely overwhelmed by the experience. Taigen had wondered where she’d gone.

Ever since their duel at the dojo, Taigen had done little else but chase after Mizu. At first, he’d wanted his honour back, so he’d followed her to Mihonoseki and her miserable tea party with Heiji Shindo. After Edo, he’d stowed away on the ship, following her to London as though finding her would help him find himself. Now, Taigen followed her because he enjoyed her presence. Taigen was trying to become an honest man. To do that, he had to be honest to himself. This meant admitting that the true reason he continued to follow her around was because he enjoyed spending time with her.

“I thought I’d find you here.” As expected, Taigen found her standing on the deck of the ship, she was staring out at the horizon.

“Just watching the sunset,” Mizu shrugged. They’d reached the part of the year where the days stretched out and the sun shone longer into the evening. Late as it was, the sun was only now just starting to dip into the horizon.

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” he recited the first line of the old sailor’s poem. Mizu raised an eyebrow, “it means we’ll have good weather tomorrow.”

“Hmmm.” Mizu looked deep in thought as she often did, though it might have it because she was so quiet.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked. Perhaps he’d overwhelmed her, bringing her to dinner when she was unused to spending time with more than a handful of people at a time. She gave him a slight nod, looking back out into the distance.

“I’m not the same person I was when I boarded this ship,” Mizu looked down at her own reflection, “by the time we reach London I’ll be someone completely different than whoever I am now.”

“I guess that’s something we have in common.” Standing next to Mizu, Taigen looked over the edge of the ship. He could see their reflections looking back at him. They both looked different than they had at the start of their journey, but somehow Taigen thought that they looked good together. He found it comforting that Mizu was just as lost as he was.

“I thought the demon’s path of revenge was the only path available to me. I chose death every chance I got but that path doesn’t satisfy me anymore. Now that I’m trying to figure out a life for myself, I’m learning that I don’t know how to live. I don’t even know how to hold a dinner conversation,” she lamented. Mizu took a deep breath, and Taigen could tell that she was trying not to cry. He wrapped his arm around her. She didn’t pull away, rather she leaned into him, her sharp chin burrowing into his shoulder. Taigen could feel the steady ins and outs of her breathing as he tried to figure out what to say.

“Mizu, how many kitchen knives did Master Eiji get you to make before making a sword?” Knives, knives would make sense to her.

“A thousand.” When Taigen got back to Japan, he’d have to start looking for her signature whenever he saw a kitchen knife.

“Was your thousandth knife better than your first?”

“Much,” Mizu answered after pausing for a moment to think.

“Think of this as your first kitchen knife. By the time you get to London you’ll be great at dinner conversation.”

“Huh, I guess conversation is a skill like any other,” Mizu smiled, “when did you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’ve made so many mistakes I guess I have no shortages of opportunities to learn from them. I thought hurting others would make me feel safe and spent years trying to fight my way to greatness. I thought it was the only way I could get anywhere. All I learned about greatness is that it’s a poor substitute for hope. I just want to be happy.”

“I always assumed happiness was for other people. I shouldn’t want it. I guess I do,” Mizu looked up at him. She had such an unusual face. Mizu would never look like the ideal Japanese woman, but she was beautiful in her own right. On some level, Taigen had found her attractive long before learning she was a woman. She was strong and elegant and focused, and Taigen spent far too much time letting his mind wander in his thoughts of her.

“Good,” Taigen brushed her bangs out of her eyes. He felt foolish for every thinking they were ugly, “I want you to be happy too.”

“I don’t know how.” At this, Taigen took a deep breath, why not tell her the truth?

“Me neither. I just know I’m happy making this journey. I get to make it with you.”

“Taigen, you’ve been chasing me like a dog this whole time,” she smiled and ruffled his hair, petting him as though he were a dog after all.

“Maybe,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “Maybe I just like chasing you.” He leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were chapped, and her mouth tasted of salt pork but so did his and none of it mattered. He’d wanted to kiss her for longer than he was willing to admit to himself. Mizu leaned into him, a mixture of both desire and restraint. Her tongue slightly cautious in his mouth, as though trying to figure out if she were welcome. She was. His hands travelled down her back. She was thin but there was a definite layer of muscle which Taigen could feel as she moved. He leaned into her towards the side of the ship. The side of the ship. Shit. Mizu caught him before he tumbled over the edge. The last thing he needed was a sunset swim in the ocean.

“Don’t go overboard,” Mizu smirked. She kissed him again before heading off back below deck. Taigen stayed on deck until the sun finished setting and the stars came out. He’d done something he that could not be undone, opened a door that could never be closed again. A wiser man would have regretted it, but he did not. Taigen just wanted her; in whatever form Mizu was willing to take in his life.

Notes:

Well, that only took 35 chapters didn't it?

Chapter 36: Mizu

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Fort Frederik Hendrik was nothing like Batavia. While Batavia was a large, clean, well-organized city with fine canals and a thriving economy, Fort Frederick Hendrik was a miserable place. The Dutch colony in Mauritius consisted of no more than a few hundred people at most and had clearly fallen into a state of disrepair. The port was mostly empty, with a few ragged ships and sunburned sailors. While the island itself was beautiful with its lush green forests and picturesque beaches surrounded by turquoise waters, everyone around the docks seemed dirty and miserable.

According to Daisuke, they were there to restock provisions, spend the night in port, and leave early in the morning. It was clear to Mizu that he’d wanted to spend as little time on the island as possible. No one amongst the crew opposed this plan, are there was talk of the Dutch East India company abandoning the colony in the near future.

While there were three other settlements on the island, they were sparsely populated with very few women. Mizu was wary of the men around the docks and had decided to go back to presenting herself as a man for the day that they would be staying on the island. She’d bound her chest and worn a scarf around her neck. The scarf would also prevent unwanted questions from the crew as well as from strangers in on the island. Taigen had kissed her neck a few days before in a way that had left a mark which she was not in the mood to explain to anyone.

Mizu’s relationship with Taigen had changed both completely and very little. She had never thought that one day she might feel affection for him at first, but it seemed that time had other plans. Mizu had grown to like him but knew better than to expect anything on his end. For her entire life, Mizu was painfully aware how undesirable she was. Along with safety, living as a man spared her the heartache of being a woman with no good options. Mikio had seen her for a moment, then rejected her. Mama considered her a disappointment. Swordfather hadn’t known what she truly was and by some miracle Ringo didn’t seem to care. Taigen was not someone she had ever sought or expected acceptance from. Mizu had been proven wrong. She never considered him to be a good man, but he seemed intent on becoming one. Perhaps Ringo’s influence had rubbed off on him.

She thought back to their first kiss on the deck of the ship. Mizu hadn’t expected it. It had caught her off guard. She had wanted nothing more. Mizu knew better than to want love, she knew her heart would inevitably break, and she knew how much danger she was putting herself in. They’d kissed several times since. She joined the crew for dinner every night. Mizu felt so vulnerable opening herself up to others. In the past she would have refused, deemed it a distraction but perhaps now things would be different.

Since meeting her father, Mizu had come to terms with the fact that revenge would not bring her the satisfaction she’d sought out from it. She still had men to kill, like it or not, if she ever hoped to live a peaceful life. A peaceful life. Could she ever live a peaceful life?
The question floated around in her head like a piece of driftwood on the ocean, unable to determine whether or not it would once again find itself on solid ground.

“We need to check all of the boxes. If you see a rat, kill it. We are not having another infestation aboard the ship. That is not happening again,” Johannes warned as they inspected crates of fruit before loading them on the ship. The crew grumbled in agreement, shuddering at what had clearly been a bad situation.

“You had a rat problem?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“This whole damn island is crawling with them,” Ren explained.

“Last time we went back to Japan we stopped here and didn’t check the fruit for rats. The damn vermin got everywhere. They chewed through half the cargo and ate all our food. Even the hardtack. Pooped everywhere too. By the time we got to Batavia we were starving and our clothes we half-eaten,” Ryo added. The ship’s next stop, Cape Town, would take a month to reach. Mizu had no desire to spend the next month of her life on a rat-infested ship. Hunting through fruit crates it was. Not before looking through her first crate did, she hear a rustling noise. She picked up a fruit knife, throwing it into the crate where she heard the noise. Mizu heard a pained shriek and then silence. She pulled the knife out of the crate. She’d thrown it through the skull of a rat the size of a tanuki. Mizu wondered what else was hiding with the fruit.

“Wanna know something pathetic,” Nobu eyed the rat as she lifted it out of the crate and placed it gently in the sand, “I’m so desperate for fresh meat I’m almost willing to eat that thing.” Ren and Ryo nodded in agreement.

“I don’t even think I can look at any more salt pork and hardtack,” Ren admitted, looking up at Johannes, “no offense.”

“You only have to look at hardtack at meals, I’m in the kitchen staring at it all day. I try my best to keep the worms out. It’s a losing battle. Hopefully Taigen can catch us some fish.” Taigen had been spared rat-hunting duty by offering to set up fishing nets in order to catch something. He was as tired of hardtack as the rest of them.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to try?”

“What Ryo?” Mizu stabbed another rat from the same crate. At least this animal had the decency to be of a normal size.

“Roasted dodo.”

“What’s a dodo?” Mizu wondered if Ryo was playing a prank on her.

“They’re delicious, that’s what. The first ship I worked on, the first mate was good with a gun and shot us some. Big-ass birds, some of them were three-feet tall. They can’t fly but they’ve got a lot of good meat on them. Tasted a bit like goose. Nothing like roasted bird after a month of salt pork,” Ren smiled at the memory.

“Hmmmm,” Mizu thought about the birds. She was overdue in practicing her marksmanship. While not as skilled with a gun as she was with a sword, she had been able to kill her share of sea birds. Mizu had never been a picky eater but even she’d grown tired of the endless hardtack and lumpy stews. Perhaps a change of diet was in order, “we have guns in the cargo hold. I need the target practice. How about I catch us dinner?” Her fellow sailors sat up, their eyes bright like a pack of stray dogs outside a butcher’s shop.

“Whatever you catch I’ll cook. Rat, tortoise, dodo, anything but hardtack and weevils,” the cook offered. Mizu nodded. It was time for a hunting trip.

Chapter 37: Taigen

Summary:

The idea for this chapter sort of came to me out of nowhere so bear with me and let me know if you have any thoughts or opinions.

Much like his hometown of Kohama, Taigen stank of fish guts. After a morning of setting up nets, he had returned to the ship with his catch, reset the nets for later, and began preparing the fish for drying.

At the beginning of the voyage, they had plenty of dried fish to go with their meals. As the fish stores had run low, they’d replaced it nearly exclusively with salt pork. Taigen was tired of salt pork. So tired of salt pork that he was willing to tolerate the stench of fish guts in order to restore some variety and dried fish to his diet.

Taigen was lucky, he’d caught enough fish for at least a few meals. He would check the nets again at sunset, then again at sunrise before they left the island. Mizu, as well as most of the crew had gone to stock up provisions for the next leg of their journey. Taigen looked forward to having fresh fruit again. Their stop in Batavia felt as though it was a lifetime ago rather than just over a month ago. It had been nine weeks since they’d left Japan. It would be four to six months until they reached Amsterdam, and from there they would travel onwards to London.

His mother had taught him how to dry fish. Taigen’s memories in her kitchen were some of the few good ones he had from his childhood. His brothers, older than him had gone to help his father with the fishing nets while Taigen had, until he as old enough, stayed at home with his mother and sisters. His mother always used to hum as she scaled and gutted the fish. Taigen tried to recall the tune. He couldn’t. What he could recall was how his mother would scape the scales off the fish with a knife. The scales glistened, like drops of silver in the sun. Once scaled, Taigen slid the knife down the back of the fish, splitting it open carefully as he tried not to cut his fingers off. The head was always the hardest part of the fish to cut open, but he had no problem slicing them open. Johannes must have picked up a set of kitchen knives in Japan as the style of knife was familiar to him. They were of excellent quality. Taigen examined the blade for a maker’s mark, perhaps the smith had signed his name. She had. Taigen traced the engraving of Mizu’s name on the knife with his fingers. She’d mentioned something once about Master Eiji having her make a thousand kitchen knives before letting her make a sword. If Mizu survived her revenge quest, going back to forging knives and swords was certainly something she could do with her life. She was not without skill.

Once opened, the fish needed to be gutted, this is where things really started to stink. Taigen scooped the fish guts into a bucket, rinsed the fish, and placed it in a bucket with salted water to soak. Once soaked, he would hang the fish up in bamboo baskets to dry in the sun. Taigen made a note to himself to place nets over the baskets as the fish dried. He did not like the way the seagulls were gathering around, ready to steal his catch at a moment’s notice. If the birds got too close to the drying fish perhaps, he would try salting and drying them as well.

Taigen had gotten into a rhythm of fish preparation when he heard footsteps coming up to the deck of the ship. He hadn’t thought anyone was around. Taigen clutched the knife, in case the person below deck was Fowler after escaping his cage. Thankfully for Taigen it was not Fowler, but rather Mizu. She was carrying one of Fowler’s guns and a sack filled with what Taigen assumed was ammunition and other supplies. She looked at his fish preparation station and laughed.

“Taigen, I thought you hated fish guts.”

“Maybe, but I hate salt pork more.”

“I guess it’s one way of getting out of rat hunting duty.” Mizu shrugged.

“Johannes told me about the last time they came here. Apparently, the rats ate everything, so Daisuke insists on keeping the ship pest-free.”

“We inspected fruit crates this morning. Some of them had more rats than fruit,” Mizu explained. Taigen was glad that they would be leaving the island early the next morning.

“I’m guessing the gun is to shoot us some dinner,” Mizu nodded, “If you’re looking for target practice, take your pick.” Taigen pointed to the lurking seabirds. He’d take roasted seagull over hardtack if those were his options.

“Yes and no, according to Ryo the island of Mauritius is home to some bird called the dodo. According to Ren they are flightless and taste like goose.” Ren couldn’t tell the difference between a weevil and a piece of dried fish. On one hand, Taigen questioned his taste but on the other, a large roasted bird sounded appealing. Even if roasted dodo tasted terrible, it would taste different than the stews they’d been eating for most of the trip.

“So, dinner’s on you.”

“Assuming I come across any birds, apparently there aren’t as many dodos as there used to be because people keep eating them and the rats and pigs keep eating their eggs.”

“How many damn rats are on this island?” Now Taigen really did not want to leave the boat.

“Enough that maybe, I should be hunting them for dinner. As much as I miss Ringo, I’m glad he isn’t here to experience this.”

“Ringo would find a way to make the rats taste good.”

“He would.” Mizu laughed as she turned to leave the ship.

“Here,” Taigen reached over, giving Mizu a quick kiss to send her off, “for luck.” She smiled at him before heading off into the jungle.

Taigen wondered if this version of Mizu, focused, driven, but not consumed by rage and despair was closer to who she could have been had the world not treated her so terribly over the years. Taigen hoped she could find peace, and that he could be part of it. He picked up another fish to start removing the scales. The work was tedious, but he did not mind. He was proud to be able to provide for the crew, even if that meant gutting fish. Taigen still disliked the fish guts; he supposed most people did. He disliked them less when they weren’t attached to his father’s anger or his mother’s despair.

After the fire in Edo, Taigen had gone back to Kohama to look for Mizu. He’d just missed her and Ringo who by then were on their way to Nagasaki. In order to meet them there, he had tracked down a local shipwright who knew which ships in town could make the journey. The shipwright happened to be his brother-in-law. This caused for him to reunite with his younger sister, Kaguya. Now a grown woman, she was not the 10-year-old girl he had last seen back when he’d been an angry kid running off to Kyoto.

Kaguya had not been happy to see him. She’d developed a sharp tongue over the years and made a point of ripping into him. In the past, Taigen would have thought her beneath him, he was a samurai now and she a woman in their hometown. But she was his sister. And in some ways, she was right. She was the one who had been responsible for taking care of their mother.

Taigen always assumed his mother would have died soon after he left town. His father had hit her so many times it was a wonder her body had managed to hold itself together. Even as a kid, Taigen remembered his mother walking with a limp from his father having pushed her down the rocky shore and her broken leg having never quite healed properly. Her mind was damaged as well from being hit in the head on numerous occasions, she became moody and forgetful, often staring off into space and forgetting where she was and what she was doing. She’d gotten frequent headaches and by the time Taigen left home, she did little but sleep.

Before catching a boat to Nagasaki, Taigen had gone to see his mother for the first time in over a decade. Her hair had gone white, and her skin had wrinkled over time. She was a stranger. A thin, frail old woman. Worst of all were her eyes, they were blank, Taigen saw nothing but emptiness behind them. They stared at him without any recognition of who he was even when he explained himself to her. Kaguya later told him that their mother hadn’t spoken in years. They’d had tea in silence. There had been nothing to say.

From there, Taigen hopped on the boat to Nagasaki and then onto Mizu’s ship. Where Mizu was going didn’t matter, she could take him anywhere except the past. After everything that had happened at sea, Taigen recognized the consequences of the cruelty he’d been raised in and how character was more than circumstance. He was more than the angry kid who ran away from home, no amount of fish guts could change that.

Chapter 38: Mizu

Notes:

Trigger warning for this chapter: animal death. It that bugs you, you may want to sit this one out.

Just like when they’d docked in Batavia, Mizu found herself wandering aimlessly through the jungle. She’d left the crew by the docks to manage provisions as she hunted for dinner. She was grateful for the trees, blocking out the worst of the sun’s rays. Even with the protection of her hat, she could still feel the intensity of the light. Mizu brushed her bangs, soaked with sweat, out of her face. The humidity was as oppressive as the heat. She tiptoed through the dense vegetation of the forest floor. She made as little noise as possible, not wanting to spook any of the animals. The bugs and birds of the jungle chattered and chirped; Mizu felt as though she’d snuck into a party she was not invited to.

She kept walking. She walked between the thick tree trunks and around the vines and fallen trees. Mizu walked into the web of a spider the size of her face. She batted it away from her with her hat and kept going. She made a note to be mindful of them as she continued on into the jungle. Mizu walked past a pond she wished she would have had time to bathe in. Her clothes stank and her hair was greasy, but she’d have to manage as best she could to keep herself clean on the ship until they reached Cape Town and she could have a proper bath.

Dozens of colourful butterflies gathered on rotten fruit fallen out of a mango tree. Mizu spied one mango that had fallen off the tree but that was ripe and had yet to start rotting. She picked it up and dusted off the dirt. She took a bite. Her teeth tore through the soft orange flesh of the fruit. The juice from the mango dripped down her face and down her neck. She’d have to wash her scarf, but it was worth it. After so much time at sea, Mizu found herself oddly satisfied with the simple pleasure of eating fruit in the jungle. Where had her determination gone? Her anger? Her desire for vengeance? Perhaps they had already arrived in London and would greet her on the docks. For now, she would enjoy her snack before continuing her trek through the jungle to hunt for dinner.

According to Johannes, there was not as much jungle as there once was. Much of the island’s forests had been cleared to grow sugarcane and other crops. Once uninhabited, Portuguese sailors had come across the island, followed by the Dutch. At first, the main visitors to the Mauritius were hungry sailors not unlike themselves, but eventually the Dutch decided to settle the island and attempted to farm it. They had reshaped the island, attempting to create a version of it to suit their needs.

Mizu hoped that the island still had enough jungle where she could find a few dodo birds to feed the crew. Ren had described the animals as being up to three feet in height with curved beaks and grey feathers. He told her they were fat, waddling beasts with tiny, useless wings that no longer gave them the ability to fly. Mizu wondered if they’d ever been able to fly or if the birds had always been flightless. Perhaps on the island they no longer had anything to fly away from. The dodo birds had adapted perfectly to their island home until the outside world came to them and they were left defenceless. Perhaps their isolation would eventually become their doom.

Looking ahead, Mizu noticed that the forest ahead of her was less dense than the surrounding trees. Perhaps there was a clearing. She kept walking. It was further ahead than she’d initially thought but eventually she reached the end of the trees. She was back on the beach. Beyond the chatter of the jungle, she could hear squealing. Out of the corner of her eye Mizu saw something grey waddling along the edge of the forest. A dodo bird. Ren had been surprisingly accurate in his description of the beast. The beast was indeed about three feet in height with a long neck and a long, curved beak. Aside from its white plume of a tail, the bird’s feathers looked soft and grey. The dodo was a fat bird with short, squat legs and even smaller wings. This bird could never fly. It was a ridiculous looking creature. Had Mizu seen a picture of the bird instead of seeing the bird in front of her she would have thought It was a joke. She opened up her bag, looking for ammunition to load her gun.

As quietly as possible, Mizu pulled out her ramrod, gunpowder flask, and box of lead balls. She no longer needed Fowler’s instructions to be able to load a gun. She poured in her gunpowder, shoved the lead ball in with the ramrod, and added a bit more gunpowder to the flint of the gun. She put her supplies back in her bag and adjusted the lever on the top of the gun. All Mizu had to do was point and shoot.

Mizu walked out of the jungle onto the beach. The bird continued to waddle, oblivious to her presence until it stared at her with its yellow eyes before continuing on down the beach. She stalked the bird, aiming her gun as it ate a piece of fallen fruit. Mizu almost felt sorry for the animal, but she was hungry, and she had mouths to feed. She pulled the trigger. Blowing the bird’s head clean off. She would be eating roasted dodo for dinner after all.

Picking up the bird, Mizu was surprised at how heavy it was. Unlike the seabirds she had previously shot, the dodo had an undeniable heft to it. Looking down the shoreline, Mizu could see the docks in the distance. Her hunting expedition would have been simpler had she just walked along the beach. At least her return to the ship would be simpler, now that she was carrying the dodo which she had hoisted over her shoulder.

Heading back towards the ship, the squealing she’d heard earlier had was getting louder. Mizu had initially attributed it to the dodo. She should have known better. It was too familiar a sound. Not far down the beach was a pig. It must have escaped from one of the farms on the island and judging by its size it had to be relatively young. The pig grunted happily, it had found itself a nest of eggs and was happily stuffing its snout with them. The eggs were large and oblong in shape. Mizu wondered if the dodo she’d killed had been its mother. She thought back to the bird she killed in boss Hamata’s dwelling. Unlike that bird, she was not the one to doom this dodo’s young. The pig was brought here by the settlers, but the pig did not know any better. The island that the dodo had become so adept at living on was changing in a way that no longer left any room for its existence.

Mizu took out her lead balls, gunpowder, and ramrod in order to reload the gun. If the dodo turned out to be inedible, they could have roasted pork. If the dodo was edible, they’d have variety. Gunpowder, lead ball, ramrod, she loaded the gun. She added the last bit of gunpowder to the flint and clicked the lever of the gun into place. The pig’s ears picked up. Unlike the dodo, the pig was aware of its surroundings. It was angry and charged in her direction. Mizu was always surprised at how fast pigs could run. This one seemed even faster than expected on its strong young legs. She had to act now. Mizu pointed the gun and aimed. The pig approached her. She shot it in the chest. It’s blood spattering everywhere, she would have to clean herself up when she got back to the ship. Putting her ammunition and gun away she carried the dodo over her right shoulder with the pig over her left. A bird from the island, a pig brought by settlers, it didn’t matter. Both were dinner.

Notes:

I can't believe it. I've reached the 50k word milestone with this fan fiction. It's the longest piece of recreational writing I've ever produced. I expected to write 1 chapter and have like, five people read this. To everyone still reading thank you so much and please share your thoughts about this fic, or about writing in general. Thank you so much.

Chapter 39: Mizu

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you have anything to say about it.

Please note that this chapter does get somewhat M-rated towards the end.

Dinner was heavy.

While the distance to the docks along the beach was not as long as Mizu had originally expected it to be, carrying the pig and the dodo over her shoulders made the journey a challenge. She would not be surprised if the animals she was carrying her were equal to her own weight. Even though it was later in the afternoon, the sun was still bright. There was no breeze to be found, only the lingering heat of the day. Mizu steadied herself. She walked one step at a time until she reached the docks.

“Mizu, you caught a dodo! You caught a pig!” Ryo waved at her from the docks. Some of the sailors came running down to see her.

“Meat! We have meat!” Nobu announced.

“I see a dodo, wait, where did the pig come from?” asked Ren.

“It was eating the dodo’s eggs, and it charged at me. I shot it.”

“That’s why you’re covered in blood.”

“Sorry Johannes.” Mizu looked down at herself. It had been quite some time since she’d found herself covered in blood. She would need to rinse off her face and yukata.

“Don’t be sorry. You caught dinner, we can cook it. There’s fresh water in the kitchen if you wish to clean yourself off.” The cook explained, examining the meat. Mizu nodded, heading back up to the ship.

By this point in the afternoon the docks were quiet. The ships that were coming had settled in for the afternoon, and the ships that were leaving had already left. The inhabitants of the island had gone back to their settlements or to the fort. Mizu stretched; her shoulders were sore from carrying the beasts.

The ship was mostly empty when Mizu made her way up to the deck. At least empty of people. Sea birds were circling the ship, littering the deck with poop and feathers. Taigen was there, guarding the baskets of dried fish with a kitchen knife. His yukata had more than one white stain from being pooped on by the birds.

“Mizu,” his eyes widened as she walked onto the deck of the ship, “are you hurt?”

“No, I shot a dodo and got charged by a pig. I’m fine, both animals are for dinner.” Mizu explained.

“Good, I can’t eat any more hardtack. It’s been too long since we’ve had meat. Real meat. Not salt pork.”

“You sound like Ringo.” Mizu wondered how Ringo would have cooked the animals.

“I can appreciate good taste.”

“Anything tastes better than salt pork and hardtack.” They both laughed, until Taigen looked at her and froze.

“Mizu, there’s something crawling in your hat. Stand still.” Taigen cautiously lifted the sunhat off of her head before dropping it on the deck of the ship. Out crawled the spider whose web she had walked into as she’d walked through the jungle. It must have snuck into her hat, hiding for hours under the brim. The spider’s luck had run out however, a lunging seagull snatched the spider in its beak and flew off, a half-dozen other birds followed. The rest of the birds stayed put, staring at them.

“Thank you, Taigen.” Perhaps it would be a good idea to wash her hair.

“Any chance you can help me get this fish down to the kitchen? It’s dry enough for now and I’ve had enough of these birds,” Mizu nodded she looked forward to having dried fish back in her diet, “I put the fish baskets under nets. We can hang them in the kitchen for now.”

“I was going there anyway to clean myself up.” Another seagull flew above them, letting out one large splat of shit right on Taigen’s head. He frowned.

“Why did I even get up this morning?” He passed her several baskets of fish before taking the rest back himself. At this point both of them were eager to get away from the birds.

Mizu and Taigen ran back into the ship, shutting the door behind them. The squawking of the gulls growing fainter as they made their way down towards the kitchen. It took a moment for Mizu’s eyes to readjust after being out in the glare of the sun. Taigen hung the baskets off the ceiling as she filled up a few buckets of water, pulled out some kitchen rags and found some soap.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Mizu had worn her hair in a topknot rather than a ponytail. With her scarf and bound breasts, it was the first time she’d truly dressed as a man since leaving Batavia. Mizu hadn’t felt strongly about going back to her old style of dress for the day. It was a means to an end that she got to come back from now that she’d returned to the ship. She took the pins out of her hair and untied it, shaking it out. Perhaps she would wear it down for the night.

It felt good to dunk her head in the water. She grabbed the soap to wash the pig blood off of her face. If had dried in the heat, cracking to the point it was sticky and peeling. She scrubbed the sweat out of her hair as well. The water was turning brown. Also, sticky was her scarf which she’d dripped mango juice on. Mizu washed it too. Her neck felt cool after rinsing off the sweat caught underneath.

“I hate seagulls,” Taigen complained, scrubbing the last of the seagull poop out of his hair. He’d removed his yukata, sitting in the kitchen in just his pants as he soaked it. Mizu stared at his muscular chest, biting her lip and trying not to blush. “You’re welcome to enjoy the view,” he smirked, noticing that she was staring. Mizu rolled her eyes. She went back to cleaning her own clothing but every so often would shoot a glance his way. Not that his ego needed it.

Mizu looked down at her own yukata and frowned, she would have to take it off to clean it. She was grateful for her chest bindings as the blood had seeped through to her juban so she’d have to remove that too. She brought herself a new bucket of water before untying her belt and dunking the yukata and juban in the water. She felt Taigen’s eyes on her. Mizu had always felt awkward about her body. She had just enough curves that she had to bind her chest and wear baggy clothes to pass as a man, but not enough of anything to be appealing as a woman. Mizu suspected that the things Mikio found most attractive about her were that she was at least 20 years younger than him and had nowhere else to go.

“So, do I look like a demon?” Perhaps Taigen would change his mind about once he got more acquainted with her body.

“No, you look like you,” He looked at her with his sad dog eyes. He made his way over to her. “But those look uncomfortable,” Taigen reached around her chest to unravel the bindings. He didn’t have to be so gentle with her, but he was. She should have stopped him there, but she did not want to. Mizu let her fingers linger down his back. She looked down at his cock which stood up in his pants. This time he could not claim to be thinking of Akemi. Taigen kissed her neck, and she let her hands drift further down his back. At least until she heard a crashing noise. They both jumped.

“I’m not opposed to your recreational activities, but please keep them out of my kitchen,” Johannes sighed, he had slammed a crate of oranges on the counter. Mizu grabbed her clothes and went back to her bunk; she suspected that Taigen had done the same. There she could finish her laundry. They would have plenty of time to catch up over dinner.

Chapter 40: Taigen

Notes:

It took me a while to figure this one out. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.

The island of Mauritius was actually a beautiful place. After a day of drying fish and fighting off sea birds, Taigen had finally gotten the chance to step off the docks and look around. The crew had set up a bonfire on the beach so that they could eat before heading back out to sea at dawn. He would have to bring in the fishing nets before they left, but for now he could relax and enjoy the evening.

Taigen could smell the roasting pig and dodo; he followed the smell and the smoke down the beach to the fire pits. Dinner would be the roasted animals, roasted root vegetables gathered from around the island, and sliced tropical fruit. It would be the best meal they’d have had since they left Batavia.

Batavia felt like a lifetime ago. It was barely over a month since they’d left the city. Mizu had met her father and was still trying to come to terms with her true parentage and the misguided nature of her revenge quest. On Taigen’s end, he had learned she was not the man he thought she was. It had shocked him at the time, but now he’d seen enough of her that it was impossible for him to picture her as the demon he’d once accused her of being. He’d have gotten to see more of her had Johannes not kicked them out of the kitchen in the afternoon. They really had no privacy on the ship.

Looking around, Taigen could see the sun was starting to set. The reflection of the sunset shone off of the waves of the ocean. Soon the light would fade to gold before the sun would sink into the horizon and they’d be alone with the bonfire and the light of the stars. The sky was clear, and the humidity was fading with the sun. It was a perfect night to be out on the beach.

Approaching the bonfire, Taigen couldn’t help but smile as he watched Mizu add logs to the fire. She poked at the roasting vegetables amidst the ashes with a stick; her eyes focused on the flames. Her hair was down, and she tucked it behind her ears. Her grown-out bangs were not quite long enough to stay there, and they fell back into her face. She no longer looked like her childhood self, nor did she look like the fearsome swordsman he’d met in the winter. There was an awkwardness to her when she wasn’t fighting or focused on training herself to fight in the future. Taigen found it charming, a reminder she was very much a human woman. Flesh and blood and stubbornness. He sat down beside her.

“We’re as doomed as those dodo birds,” she stared sadly into the fire, pointing at the bird. It was a large, funny looking creature, a fat sizzling bird with a long neck and long curved beak.

“I thought you were starting to like me.” Taigen sat up, worried. Was she tired of him already? Had he done something to upset her?

“I meant the samurai. Japan as we know it.”

“Oh, I see.” Taigen breathed a sigh of relief.

“The birds can’t fly because they had nothing to fly away from for so long. Now they do and it’s too late,” Mizu speared one of the ash-covered tubers and dropped it in a basket, “Fowler knew it.”

“Fowler’s in a cage. You put him there yourself.” Taigen was unsure whether he was trying to reassure Mizu or himself.

“Someone else will come. Maybe not in our lifetime. But they will.” Poking at the vegetables, Mizu picked out a few more that appeared cooked. Japan was a world away. If the ship had decided to turn back it would take over two months to get there.

“I guess we left our ignorance behind when we left Japan. I wonder if they have swords in Europe.”

“Fowler says they do. Rich people keep them as status symbols. They have other ways to kill each other. Mainly guns.” Mizu scowled; Taigen wondered how she’d feel if one of the swords she’d made ended up on some nobleman’s wall as a decoration.

“Thanks to your gun we have meat for dinner.” In the past, Taigen would have looked down on hunting with guns, but the roasted pork and bird smelled far too delectable for him to argue with Mizu’s methods of hunting them.

Mizu tested the remaining vegetables with her stick. They were cooked. She put them in her basket and brought them over to Johannes who sliced them up for the crew to share. Ryo and Nobu hefted the dodo onto what looked a wooden crate. Tohru and Hideki did the same with the pig.

“Why are there stones in its stomach?” Ryo jumped back as Ren cut the bird open, several large rocks tumbled out onto the sand.

“Who knows? Maybe because the damn birds are dumb as rocks.” Ren shrugged. He sliced the meat. It looked stringy and tough.

“Hope it doesn’t taste like rocks.” Nobu tapped the charred beak of the bird. There was no meat in the head and very little in the neck of the dodo.

“I’d take the rock at this point, probably softer on my teeth than the hardtack.” Ren continued to slice up the bird. The breast meat seemed less sinewy than the rest of the bird. Looking over at Tohru and Hideki the pig looked succulent and perfectly cooked.

“Alright, food should be ready. Please get in line and we’ll get you a bowl,” the cook announced. The sailors all lined up, Taigen and Mizu among them, waiting hungrily for a long-anticipated meal of fresh meat and vegetable. There was more than enough to go around. Taigen found himself with a bowl with a bit of everything inside: pork, dodo, and assorted root vegetable chunks. He took a taste of the dodo. It was a stringy wild bird but still roasted meat. The vegetables were charred but soft and sweet on the inside. The pork was the best part of the meal. Taigen would have to get himself another piece. Looking over at Mizu she’d finished her food long before he did. Taigen wondered if she tasted anything she ate or just gulped it down as quickly as possible. He looked back to the carved-up pig and thought back to his time in Kyoto.

“Did you know that lord Daichi Tokunobu started off as a pig farmer?”

“Akemi’s father?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I only met him a few times, but he wasn’t shy about sharing how he’d worked his way up in the world.” Taigen had once looked up to lord Tokunobu, he was a man intent do build himself a place in the world. He thought himself the hero of him family and would stop at nothing to better his station. A lifetime ago Taigen had thought that was what he wanted to be.

“He didn’t give a shit about her,” Mizu went back to pig carcass. She tore off a chunk and popped it in her mouth. Taigen couldn’t help but do the same. He’d forgotten how good roasted pork could be. Various crew members were picking at the meat alongside them, “he just cared if she was pretty and married someone who made him look good.”

“I uh, I never thought about it that way,” Taigen sighed. Unlike Akemi, he really did not have a mind for politics. The man he was when he was engaged to her would not have been wise enough to listen to her council. No matter how good he was as a warrior, he was now aware that he had neither the skills nor the disposition to rule. His ambition had been futile. Chasing glory was akin to chasing ghosts.

“Tokunobu was working with Fowler. Fowler told me about his failed plans. Some men are just never satisfied. They never have enough,” Mizu explained. Taigen should have been more shocked by this revelation than he was. This was who he could have become. Ruthless and cruel and miserable. At the end of the day, lord Tokunobu was as miserable was his own drunken fisherman of a father, no matter how much he’d managed to rise up in the world.

“I used to want to be those men.” Taigen picked up an orange and started peeling it. It was warm from the sun; it’s flesh bright and sweet.

“I know,” Mizu took a few more chunks of the root vegetables for her own bowl. She wiped the char off before eating, “I used to think revenge was all I had, now I’m not so sure.”

“I don’t think it is. I don’t know about you, but I just want to be happy.” he admitted. Mizu smiled.

“Taigen, you’re a simple man. But perhaps you’ll grow wise in time.” She ruffled his hair.

“I will, and you’ll be here to see it.” He wrapped his arm around her. She elbowed him gently. They both laughed. Taigen hoped they would be laughing at each other for a long time to come.

Chapter 41: Akemi

Notes:

So this one's a little bit different, but it'll make sense I promise!!

Akemi shouldn’t have been in Kohama. She did not have to go to Kohama. She could not help but go to Kohama. Akemi hadn’t left Edo since her wedding. Getting to know her husband and his family, grieving Seki, figuring out what to do about her father, building an intelligence network around the castle with Madam Kaji and her girls, and working to rebuild the capital city which had burned to ash had kept her fully occupied. She’d settled comfortably into her new role as a wife and political figure, albeit through her husband. Edo was her home now. Still, when her husband had decided to get a new sword from the legendary swordsmith master Eiji in the hometown of both her former fiancé and the vengeful ronin that had set her life on its current course, she jumped at the opportunity to see the place that had shaped them.

It took some convincing of her husband to let her join him on his journey. Not that Takayoshi had been too hard to convince, she’d fed him a romantic narrative of greeting the sword maker as a man rather than the shogun’s brother in order for him to craft him a sword that truly represented his soul.

For once, Akemi was grateful to her past self for listening to Taigen when he had talked about what it meant to be a samurai. She had little interest in swords aside from an instrument of flattery. Looking back, she could see that his relationship to being a samurai had more to do with his ego and escaping poverty than anything else. She’d built up a version of him in her head as a way out of being powerless. Madam Kaji had advised her to stop looking to men for direction and Seki’s last words were that he had raised her. He loved her and was proud of her in a way that her father could never be. Akemi had a future, and it was the one she would choose. By the time Taigen had come back to her after months of chasing Mizu in a futile attempt to regain his honour, her infatuation with him had melted away like snow in the spring. He’d pleaded with her, his eyes reminded Akemi of a sad dog. He’d wanted to run away with her, expected her to leave behind everything she was building for herself at a moment’s notice to go live on a farm or somewhere else insignificant. He truly was a simple man; Mizu’s words rang in her head ‘he believes he loves you very much’. Taigen had wanted to be a man with her, Akemi figured he could find a way to be a man without her.

Both Akemi and her husband had dressed plainly, taking only a handful of palace guards with them on their journey. They’d expected to find an inn in Kohama but there was nowhere to stay save for the local midwife’s house having extra rooms. She was a young widow named Momo who had learned her craft from the town’s previous midwife after her husband died. Thankfully, she had welcomed them all into her home and promised to show them the way to the forge the next day. The day they arrived, Akemi had asked Momo for a tour of the village. Momo obliged, and she spent the afternoon taking Akemi through the streets of town. Taigen had referred to the place as having fish guts and fish minds. Akemi saw poverty and isolation. That and fish. There was no shortage of fish in the town.

Akemi kept her mouth shut to hide her blackened teeth. So far no one had recognised either her or her husband. With master Eiji being blind, she felt secure that no one would figure out who they were. Akemi followed her husband to the swordsmith’s forge the next day.

……………………..

Once Akemi and her husband had reached the forge, it seemed their aspirations of anonymity had been in vain. Master Eiji’s forge came with a familiar face.

“Akemi!” Ringo greeted her with a hug, “you’re with your husband. Is he here for a sword?”

“Y-yes, you, y-y-you were in the C-capital. To w-w-warn us about F-fowler.” Takayoshi blinked in disbelief, clearly, he had crossed paths with Ringo at some point.

“Yes! You remembered me. You’re the shogun’s second son!”

“Ringo, it seems we have important guests.” The old swordsmith bowed to the two of them. Ringo did the same. Master Eiji invited her husband outside to talk and Takayoshi followed. Her husband was shy due to his stutter, but master Eiji was patient, Akemi could see the two men becoming more comfortable with each other as Takayoshi demonstrated his style of swordsmanship to give the swordsmith an idea of what kind of blade to forge.

“What are you doing here? And what happened to Mizu?” asked Akemi. She had a hard time believing Mizu died in the great fire of Edo.

“I’m learning about swords from the legendary master Eiji. He took Mizu in as a child, and he learned how to be a great swordsman by watching the great swordsmen who came to master Eiji for a sword. Mizu said it was the best way for me to learn since that’s how he learned. Plus, master Eiji is stubborn and needs to be reminded to eat and sleep. I think that’s where Mizu gets his stubbornness from.”

“But where is Mizu?”

“Mizu went to London. Fowler said that the other two men he was sworn to kill were in London, so he locked Fowler in a cage and hopped on a boat to cross the ocean.” Ringo explained.

“Does Mizu even know where London is?” Akemi had seen a map of the world her father had kept. She did not know how long it would take to get to London, only that it was halfway around the world.

“No, but when has that ever stopped him?” Ringo shrugged. Reasoning with Mizu was like throwing rocks at a tsunami. Looking around the forge, Akemi noticed at least a dozen swords hanging on the wall. While she was no expert in the art of sword making, Akemi recognised one sword that was different than the rest. The metal shone blue rather than silver.

“Is this Mizu’s sword?” There was no way even Mizu was stupid enough to travel halfway around the world to a country he didn’t speak the language of with no plan and not bring his sword.

“Fowler broke it with a bullet. Mizu reforged the steel and said he would ask Master Eiji to reforge it when he was worthy of a sword.” Akemi could tell that Ringo had no idea how to talk sense into Mizu. She peered out the window to watch her husband swing a sword for the swordsmith. Takayoshi was an archer at heart, she rarely saw him wield a sword but as a nobleman it was expected of him to have one. He was cautious, attentive, and focused once he came to a decision. All the traits he had as an archer. All the traits he had as a lover. Akemi smiled; she’d grown fonder of him than she ever expected.

Akemi’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. A messenger had arrived with a letter. Master Eiji and Takayoshi followed him in the door. The messenger claimed that the letter was for Ringo, and it was sent from the Dutch colonial city of Batavia in the East Indies. Akemi insisted he read it out loud. While initially hesitant, he was outranked. Akemi promised the contents of the letter would not leave the room. It was not her place to read the letter, but with the foreign threat they’d faced, knowing its contents could be an asset to national security. Ringo unravelled the scroll and started reading. It was from Mizu.

Ringo,

It’s been a month since I left Japan, by the time you will receive this letter it will be two or three months since then. I owe you everything so I will tell you everything. I’m writing to you from, of all places, my father’s house in Batavia. For most of my life, I believed that my father was one of the four white Englishmen men who had done business in Japan. These were the four men I had sworn revenge on. As it turns out, none of these men are my father.

Captain Daisuke of the Dutch merchant ship I’m sailing on is the son of a whore from Nagasaki and a friend of my father’s. His mother worked in the same brothel as my own grandmother who I am named after. My grandfather was allegedly a Dutch sailor, making me even more of a mongrel than I had originally thought. My father is a man named Kaito who grew up in Nagasaki and worked his way up to being a palace guard. There he met my mother, Eliza. She was the wife of one of the four white men, and the sister of another. When her husband found out she’d had a child out of wedlock he murdered her and put a bounty on my head to destroy the evidence of his wife’s transgressions.

If the bounty were no longer an issue, I would be back in Japan instead of sending you this letter. Unfortunately, someone is still looking for a mixed-race girl, it’s part of the reason I was raised as a boy and had continued to live as one. Early on in my quest for revenge I was reunited with the maid I thought was my mother. I thought she had died in a fire, and I planned to avenge her, but she survived. She married me off to a disgraced samurai in the mountains who found out about the bounty and sent men to kill me for it when I had displeased him. They are all dead; it was my first time killing anyone. The only way to get the bounty off my head is to find the man who put it there in the first place. Thus, I’m still on my way to London. This part you can share with Swordfather if he will hear of it. If I survive my quest, I will come back to take care of him to the best of my abilities. Perhaps you can teach me how to cook. I would be happy to be your apprentice.

I cannot promise you anything going forward, only that I will write to you when I get to London. Fowler is teaching me English and I’m on good terms with the crew. They knew who I was long before I did. To them I was a ghost story. I’m less alone than I expected to be on this voyage. Taigen of all people stowed away on the ship. I expected we’d be frustrated with each other by now, but I must admit that his presence is a comfort. He found out about my parentage at the same time as I did, and we have yet to talk. Still, London is five or six months away, my English will have improved by then and I should have a plan on what to do when I arrive.

Take care of Swordfather for me.

Mizu

“So, Mizu is a woman.” Akemi blinked, staring at the wall in disbelief. Takayoshi was also frozen in shock from the revelation. No wonder her seduction attempts had failed, and Mizu had no interest in the brothel when they’d met. Here she thought Mizu was the nobody she’d presented herself as when in reality she’d had a bounty on her head. If Mizu ever did make it back to Japan, Akemi would certainly want to talk with her. She had a feeling there was more to the story, even if Mizu wasn’t aware of it herself. It appeared that her and Taigen’s fates were intertwined as well.

“Man, woman, an artist is an artist.” The old sword maker shrugged. He turned to the messenger, “can we send anything to London?” He asked, the messenger nodded.

“I think I want to write a letter.” Ringo went off to fetch some ink.

“I hope my apprentice can find satisfaction in an art other than death.” Master Eiji pulled Mizu’s sword off the wall, sheathing it and wrapping it up, “but most of all it would be nice if someone lived long enough to have that opportunity.” He handed the sword to the messenger as Ringo wrote his letter. Hopefully the sword would arrive in London soon enough to give Mizu a fighting chance.

Notes:

I think I might write a Master Eiji side story about the sword getting made. Thoughts?

Chapter 42: Fowler

Notes:

Aaaand a Fowler chapter. Because why not?

This was not his ship.

By the time the ship had made it’s second stop on whatever godforsaken island in the tropics it had docked on, Fowler was certain that he was not on one of his smuggling ships.

The ship had docked briefly, for only a day, but he had not heard a lick of English from the docks. Instead, he heard the Japanese of the sailors, and the Dutch of whatever population happened to work there. So far both stops the ship had taken had been in Dutch colonies. Fowler would bet his weight in gold that the ship was Dutch too.

Thinking back, Fowler could not remember how he got on the ship in the first place. He’d been to Nagasaki; Mizu had knocked him out and put him in a cage after leaving Edo. She must have stolen a horse or found some other method in order to take him there. Thinking back to Nagasaki, he remembered Mizu at the docks. There had been a man there who looked at her as though she were a ghost. She’d gone to talk with him. Her apprentice minded him. He was a large, dimwitted overcooked dumpling of a man with no hands and less sense. Fowler couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. The man had talked so much that Fowler tuned him out. Eventually, he’d fed him a bowl of noodles and Fowler had woken up in his cage on the ship. That was over two months ago. He was still on the ship. Still in a cage.

Wherever the ship had docked, they’d left in the early morning. His breakfast meal had contained some sort of sinewy bird meat and some slices of papaya. Perhaps even the sailors had grown tired of the miserable offerings coming out of the ship’s kitchen. Mizu had come by for her English lesson, she hadn’t told him where they were. Fowler would not have been surprised if she did not know. Other than that, it had been a dull day.

That was yesterday. Now they were truly back at sea and breakfast was late. Fowler suspected they were nearing the African continent. He didn’t know where they were, but he was certain that the ship would, at some point, reach London. Mizu was not the sort of woman who was keen on compromise. If they were not going to London, she would not have gotten on this ship.

After waiting for breakfast, Fowler heard footsteps. Finally, someone was coming to feed him. At first, he hoped it would be Mizu but alas, it was not. Instead, Fowler found himself face to face with the first pair of green eyes he’d seen in a very long time.

“Alright Mr. rat-man, here’s your breakfast.” The young man slid a tray of food into the cage. Fowler hadn’t seen the man before; he’d have remembered his face. He was a truly unfortunate-looking mongrel with an awkward combination of Japanese and European features. With a bit of effort, Fowler was certain that Mizu could probably be prettied up, but this man was a lost cause.

“He’s too fucking ugly to be one of mine,” Fowler grumbled under his breathe in English. Not that the mongrel would understand.

“I have a father, thank you very much,” the man replied in English. He had an accent, but it was on the lighter side, the kind one would get with a language they learned as a teenager.

“Well then, who the fuck are you?” Fowler glared through the bars.

“I’m just the ship’s cook,” he shrugged and scratched his head. It was enough for Fowler to recognise the accent.

“You’re Dutch, no wonder the food is shit.” It all made sense now.

“And Irish food isn’t?” The cook must have recognised his accent as well, that or Mizu had shared his origin story.

“If Irish food is shit, blame the English. They’re the reason we didn’t have any. Your people have plenty of food, you just can’t fucking cook.”

“Is this a sign you want us to stop feeding you.” The cook blinked.

“No, but that’s not why you’re here son. Otherwise, we’d have met by now.”

“Fair enough. I’ve heard so many stories about you. I wanted to see if you were as dreadful as they said.” There was something unnerving about his expressionless face.

“So, it seems the little miss and her pet samurai are talking with the crew.”

“I’ve never met two people with worse judgement in my entire life and I was a tavern cook for 10 years. If nothing else they keep each other busy,” he sighed, scratching his head again. Fowler found it odd for a tavern cook to be working on a ship.

“Now what is a Dutch tavern cook doing aboard a merchant ship going to and from Japan?” Despite having mostly dressed himself in Japanese clothes, Fowler could tell the cook was not from there. Heritage aside, the man was clearly Dutch.

“Well, you see, I was out of town for my sister’s wedding and the place burned down so I was out of a job. Worked on ships going to and from London and eventually this ship to Japan. My mother’s from Nagasaki so I thought the place would feel like home. It did not. The people are horrible. Not that the Dutch are any better but at least they are familiar to me and my family’s there. Worst of all I haven’t had cheese in two years.” So the Dutch did have trade with the English, in spite of the trade wars he’d heard of as background chatter in Catherine Skeffington’s letters.

“So, a Dutch merchant ship, that’s where we are.”

“Nothing you can do about it now.” The cook shrugged. Matter of fact. Unlike the Irish who were generally poets at heart, the Dutch were not keen on spinning yarns. Their words were as plain and unpleasant as their food. Typical Calvinists. “I did get you a treat,” the cook pointed to his tray. On it there was a box. Inside there was a live rat.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

“No, I’ve been trying to keep the ship pest-free, and this one stubborn rat was trapped in the orange crate. You’re the only person on this ship who actually likes rats so it’s all yours,” the cook scratched his head again, looked down at his hands and sighed, “not so pest free as I thought. Oh well. Anything’s better than rats.” Fowler frowned; the cook was not so easy to rile up as Mizu. He had no power over this man. But he could put on a show.

“Alright, time for dessert.” Fowler eyed the unfortunate creature. The rat had crawled into an orange crate thinking it could eat to its heart’s content. Unfortunately, a bigger predator had come along. Looking down at his hands, Fowler noticed how long his nails had gotten. He held the rat’s body in his hand, ensuring that the cook would get a full view. He pressed his nail along the rat’s neck, slitting its throat. The rat bled profusely, even Fowler was surprised how much blood the little beast could hold before shoving it in his mouth. The blood dripped from his mouth like juice from a ripe fruit.

“I’m not cleaning that.” The cook did not so much as blink. Perhaps the taverns in the Dutch republic were as unruly as those in England and Ireland.

“You don’t have to love. It’s my rat. It’s my mess,” Fowler hissed through his bloodstained teeth against the bars of the cage, tossing his empty tray back out into the cargo hold.

“It’s your problem.” The cook picked up the tray and left. Once again Fowler was alone in his cage. He had to think of something to do. Luckily for him, they still had plenty of time. Once he got to London, Fowler knew he would have the upper hand. All he had to do was wait.

Notes:

Apologies to any readers who happen to be Dutch or Irish or Japanese, I'm sure you are lovely people. Johannes and Fowler hating on each other has nothing to do with you.

Chapter 43: Mizu

Notes:

Aaand they're back at sea for new adventures. All comments are welcome and hope you enjoy the chapter!

It had been a while since Mizu had been summoned anywhere. She certainly had not been summoned anywhere during her time on the ship. It was three days after they were back at sea when Johannes summoned her to the kitchen after lunch. She usually ate lunch on her own but had gotten in the habit of eating dinner with the crew. She was getting used to them, although Ryo tested her patience with his stories at times. Last night he made a point of rambling on about Ando, the ship’s former first mate who Ryo claimed could communicate with seagulls and disappeared one night leaving a nothing but a pile of feathers behind. Mizu suspected the man was communicating with sake bottles on the regular as well.

Mizu’d had a quiet morning so far. She’d mopped the mess hall and the cargo hold as well as bringing Fowler his lunch and talking with him in English. She made a note to herself to learn at least some Dutch before they reached Amsterdam. She’d eaten her lunch as Fowler had rambled about the success of his smuggling ships and bringing guns into Japan. Mizu wondered if he knew that he was no longer on one of those ships. It was then that Johannes had yelled down to her to come into the kitchen.

Once she got there, she could see Taigen leaning against the counter inspecting a box of the remaining meat from the pig she’d killed. Johannes had fed them some meat at breakfast in the morning stew the day they set sail from Mauritius. They had not had meat since aside from dried fish and the dreaded salt pork. Mizu hated the idea that they were wasting food.

“Oh good, the two of you are here,” the cook’s face bore a serious expression.

“Yeah, you told us to come.” Taigen put the box down.

“I think it’s time to set some boundaries.” The cook crossed his arms and glared at them. Mizu couldn’t help but think of the times Swordfather had gotten frustrated with her as a teenager. She’d been difficult in her youth. At times the two of them would fume silently for days or else she would storm out of the forge and go wander the woods if she was having particularly rough day. She’d never brought a boy home. That was never even a consideration for her teenaged self who was pretending to be one.

“Hmmm,” she nodded.

“As you might have noticed. This is a kitchen. I make food here. I need to keep the space clean, or at least as clean as possible given that we are floating on a cramped wooden box travelling halfway around the world. I think it’s lovely that the two of you are enjoying each other’s company. However, if you are going to get touchy feely, please find a place to do it that is not the kitchen, and I do not have to serve food out of.”

“Right, uh, sorry,” Taigen ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly. Mizu supressed a smile. He was so cute when he was flustered. Something she would never admit this to his face.

“Does the crew know?” Mizu wondered if Johannes had added to the ship’s gossip.

“If they know about whatever relationship the both of you happen to have, they did not hear it from me. As I said, I’m not opposed to you sneaking around, just so long as it’s not in my kitchen.”

“Did people sneak around the kitchen when you were a tavern cook?” Back in Japan Mizu had witnessed all sorts of horny idiots sneak off to strange places in hopes of getting laid. She never thought it possible that one day she’d be among those idiots but here she was.

“Yes. All the time. It was a health hazard. I’m not surprised the place burned down. Even if it hadn’t, I would not recommend eating there.”

“I bet you snuck around too Johannes.” Taigen smirked; Mizu wondered what kind of escapades he’d had in the past. Perhaps it was better not to know.

“Obviously. Just not in the kitchen I served food out of. I wouldn’t recommend the cargo hold either. Sharing a space with the rat man ought to ruin any intimate thoughts.”

“Hmmm.”

“I brought him food the other day. It was my first time interacting with the rat man. He’s foul indeed.”

“I’m glad he’s not my father.”

“Mizu, he doesn’t even look like you. How could you ever think he was your father? Do you think all Europeans look alike or something?” Mizu had thought all Europeans looked alike. Before visiting Batavia, the diversity of human features beyond Japan had been a mystery to her. Eyeing the remaining pork, she reached over and grabbed a chunk. It was cold and chewy and tasted a little off, but she’d eaten worse in her life. “Mizu please don’t eat that.” The cook frowned.

“Were you planning to serve it later?” Mizu couldn’t think of another reason why they would not have eaten it by now.

“No, Johannes was giving that to me as bait for the fish.”

“You’re not worried about wasting meat?” She ripped another piece of pork off the bones of the pig and popped it in her mouth. If no one else was going to eat it, she may as well snack.

“Mizu I would not eat that meat if I were you. It’s been sitting out and we are in the tropics. Even if it tastes acceptable, I do not think that meat is safe to eat,” Johannes explained, both him and Taigen’s eyes widened as they watched her eat. Their discomfort was not her problem. They probably wouldn’t get any more meat for a month until they docked in Cape Town.

“Mizu, I’m sorry for calling you gutter trash as a kid. You’re not. You don’t need to make yourself sick.”

“It tastes fine.” Sure, the meat was not as good as it had been fresh, but it wasn’t as though it was actively rotting or crawling with weevils. If the hardtack and salt pork hadn’t made her sick yet, the cooked meat would not either.

“That’s your English side, right there. Last time I was in a London tavern I ordered a slice of lamprey pie. It was spoiled, congealed, and they hadn’t even taken the teeth out of the damn eels. The locals were fine, but I was up shitting all night.”

“I hate London already,” Taigen grimaced at Johannes’s description of the food. Both men still watching her in horror as she snacked. Perhaps they were overreacting. That or Mizu just happened to have a strong stomach.

Chapter 44: Taigen

Notes:

I got all my actual work done on time so why not write another chapter. Hope you enjoy.

Always tough and full of weevils, the hardtack tasted worse than usual. Mizu hadn’t shown up to dinner and the mess hall was emptier without her. Taigen sat down to eat with the same chatty crew and unappetizing slops as they usually ate, but despite her only having joined them for dinners in the past few weeks, he really felt her absence. Mizu was generally quiet, but occasionally she would say a few words or share a confused look when Ryo shared an absurd story, or Johannes went on a confusing rant about European politics or the insufferable nature of his brother-in-law. Mizu would at times hold his hand or play with his hair or rest her head on his shoulder. Her presence had snuck up on him. He had grown to miss when she wasn’t around.

Today she wasn’t around. Taigen hadn’t seen her since the cook had lectured them at lunch about their activities in the kitchen. Taigen didn’t regret anything, but he would have to find another spot free from prying eyes and ship’s cooks. Something easier said than done given how crowded and busy the ship could be. It would be weeks before they saw dry land again.

“Have you seen Mizu?” He asked Ryo. If anyone had seen her, it would be her bunkmate.

“Not since earlier,” he shook his head, “she wasn’t feeling well so I think she went to take a nap.”

“Since when does Mizu nap?”

“She doesn’t, that’s how I know she wasn’t feeling well. It’s not like she admitted it or anything. I was going to bring her some tea after dinner. Maybe hardtack too. Not that hardtack makes anyone feel better,” Ryo sighed, “actually maybe you should be the one to bring her some tea. She might actually drink it. Mizu is stubborn.” Taigen laughed.

“You have no idea.” Only Mizu would be stubborn enough to eat obviously rotten food without a second thought. Even if the pork had looked fine, it had smelled bad, and Taigen wasn’t even sure it was still acceptable to use as fish bait.

While it did not taste spectacular, Johannes had once again served them an edible meal that did not make them sick. Something Taigen was increasingly grateful for, the more he saw the quality of ingredients in the ship’s kitchen. Growing up on fish guts and the slops they served at the dojo had served him well. They weren’t great but at least he hadn’t starved.

Thinking back, Mizu hadn’t been so lucky. At the time Taigen had made fun of her for eating out of his trash, but what choice did she have? In her time wandering the town, the poor girl had nothing else to eat. She had nowhere to go. It was something Taigen still felt guilty about. While everyone in Kohama told her she was gutter trash; his voice had been the loudest.

Master Eiji taking her in had most likely saved her life. Regardless of her parentage, he was the person she took after the most even if Mizu had yet to grow into his wisdom. Taigen remembered his time at the forge. The old swordsmith hadn’t been too impressed with him and Taigen hadn’t done anything to endear himself to him. Taigen wondered whose favour would be hardest for him to win, Master Eiji’s or Mizu’s actual father. He suspected the former. He’d have to find a way to make up for his behaviour if they ever made it back to Japan.

In order to make it back to Japan, they would have to survive London, and in order to survive London, they had to survive the trip. Taigen finished up his dinner and went to check on Mizu. Johannes had given him a tray with dinner, a candle for light, a bucket, and some old linens to bring with him. Taigen suspected that, in spite of everything, the cook had a soft spot for Mizu. He did say that she reminded him of one of his sisters.

Taigen paused at the door before walking into Ryo and Mizu’s quarters. Ryo’s bunk was empty, but he could see a lump in Mizu’s. Maybe she was just having a nap after all.

“Hey Mizu, I brought you some dinner,” he announced himself. The lump under the threadbare blanket rustled. At least she was alive. Taigen walked into the room. He could see that Mizu was curled up in the bunk. If she stretched out, she would have been too long for it. Sailor’s quarters really were not designed for tall people, Taigen often found himself contorting himself to fit into his own bunk and Johannes had set up a cot for himself in the kitchen to avoid that problem entirely. Taigen noticed that Mizu had set up a bucket for herself. Judging by the contents she’d thrown up several times. The smell made Taigen want to retch. Worst of all, the bucket was leaking vomit on to the floor of the ship. It would not be a fun task to clean it up. “Are you alright?” Taigen realized he’d asked a stupid question the moment it slipped off of his tongue.

“Hmm, I’m fine,” Mizu sounded delirious. Her eyes fluttered open but they seemed glazed over. Taigen brushed the sweat-soaked bangs out of her face and touched her forehead.

“Mizu, you’re burning up.”

“Sleep it off. I’ll live. Don’t want to waste.” She was partially coherent. Taigen could see that she was aware of his presence but looked passed him when she spoke. Taigen had been in such a state many times before. Usually in his case there was alcohol was involved.

“You’re not wasting anything. You don’t need to make yourself sick.” It was useless to bargain with Mizu in her state, but Taigen felt the need to do it anyways.

“I’m not s-” Mizu’s argument was interrupted by retching. Taigen helped her up and held up the clean bucket which she barfed in. Her stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm.

“You are so stubborn.”

“Sorry,” she looked up at him apologetically, as though she was a frightened child. Did the woman she thought was her mother get angry at her when she was sick?

“Uh, here. Have some tea. It always helps to have something to drink. Trust me, I’ve had some terrible hangovers.” Taigen helped her to sit up and handed her the tea. She drank it cautiously in slow sips. He suspected she hadn’t drunk anything since lunch.

“Thanks,” Mizu smiled weakly before leaning over and barfing into the bucket again. She was clammy with sweat and slightly shaky after an afternoon of vomiting. She slumped back into her bunk. Taigen picked up the rumpled blanket and gently tucked her in. Mizu needed her rest. Soon enough he would leave to fetch more tea and clean out the puke buckets but for now he would stay with her, listening to her breathe as she fell asleep.

Chapter 45: Mizu

Notes:

Another week, another chapter, hope you enjoy <3

Mizu’s eyes itched. By the time she finally opened them, Mizu had no idea what time it actually was. Given the light in the room the morning had come and potentially gone. She’d slept awkwardly in her bunk. Her back ached.

It had been a while since she’d gotten sick from eating spoiled food. The last time it happened had to have been at least some time before she met Ringo. More than anyone else in her life, Ringo had always insisted they eat well. Asking Ringo for a bowl of noodles was one of the first things she wanted to do when she got back to Japan. Mizu was grateful that Swordfather had him to make sure he ate. The ship’s food was unappetizing but perfectly edible. Johannes seemed to be in a permanent battle with the hardtack, making sure the nails hammered into it as well as the worst of the weevils didn’t make it into their meals.

Mizu could no longer remember what Mama had cooked beyond tea and millet or rice porridge. On her own she’d eaten whatever scraps she could find, though with Kohama being a fishing village there was more fish than meat. Mizu had no shortage of memories of getting sick on spoiled fish scraps before her stomach got used to them. With Swordfather they’d eaten simply: tea and rice or millet with the occasional dried fish and vegetables. He was not a fussy eater and often she was the one reminding him to eat. More often than not, he’d get caught up in his work and forget he was hungry. A habit Mizu had picked up from him.

She’d eaten poorly since leaving on her quest. She stopped for food no more than she had to, not wanting to carry more than she absolutely needed. It was no wonder she often found herself scrawny and tired. At first, she pushed through, ignoring that her menstrual cycle had stopped, and her hair had started to fall out until she realized that she had to be at least strong enough to complete her quest, so she made a point to eat at least one or two small meals a day. Her time on Mikio’s farm had been a respite. There was plenty of food, regardless of how good she was at cooking it. Mama had been quick to criticize her cooking but was in no rush to teach her how to prepare anything. Still, those months had done wonders for her health. Looking back, Mizu remembered how she’d settled into having a woman’s body with settling into a pattern of monthly bleeding, she’d filled out slightly and her skin had improved, her hair had grown longer and thicker than it had ever been, her eyes were less sunken in and the circles under them faded. At times she would catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror or a puddle of water and contemplated the possibility she might not have been the hideous demon she’d been led to believe. Once Mikio had betrayed her she’d resumed her quest and fallen back into old habits.

Aside from the past night, being on the ship had been good for Mizu. She’d had regular meals. She hadn’t been stabbed in months. Aside from Fowler who nobody trusted, she was safe with everyone on board the ship. Since meeting her father, Mizu was finally able to make peace with her heritage. With Taigen she was starting to open up her heart again. She was trapped on the ship, there was nowhere for her to go and no enemies for her to fight. Mizu had no choice but to confront and make peace with herself. This was proving to be a work in progress. At least now when Mizu caught a glimpse of her reflection, she did not see a hideous demon so much as an awkward young woman who looked like her dad. Her face was less gaunt, and her menstrual cycle had resumed. She thought about growing her hair out again.

The food they’d cooked on the beach in Mauritius was delicious. It had been so long since she’d had proper meat that wasn’t salt pork. She never had it in that quantity. Mizu had made a point of stuffing herself with it for as long as she was able. It seemed foolish to waste the last of the meat. It hadn’t even occurred to Mizu that it was no longer safe to eat. After a night of vomiting this was something she’d learned the hard way.

Rubbing her eyes, Mizu looked around the room. Taigen was still there, slouched over the far corner of her bunk. By the looks of it he was asleep. Mizu did not want to wake him. He had been thoughtful enough to check on her. He stayed with her all night, whether he’d intended to or not. Taigen had his own bunk he could have gone back to, but instead he’d curled up at the edge of hers like a loyal dog.

Part of Mizu felt guilty for dragging him halfway across the world, the other half was grateful he had joined her. At the end of the day, Taigen was the one to stow away on the ship to follow her. It had been his decision. He could have left her in Batavia and gone back to Japan when he learned who and what she really was. He didn’t have to kiss her; he didn’t have to stay with her. Mikio wouldn’t have. Taigen did.

“You’re awake,” Taigen’s voice was groggy with sleep. He stood up and stretched, cursing as he hit his hand against the wall of the ship. Something Mizu herself had done many times while getting up.

“Yeah,” Mizu nodded. She couldn’t help but smile, “you slept at the foot of my bunk.” She thought about the possibility of sharing a bed with him someday. Not a sailor’s bunk though, Mizu was too tall to fit comfortably in her own and Taigen was taller than her. Together they would not fit.

“I wanted to keep an eye on you without getting barfed on. From now on stop eating rotten food,” Taigen sighed. Looking down, Mizu saw that one of the buckets had been cleaned while the other had a layer of bile lining the bottom. Her stomach must have completely emptied itself and she’d have to reintroduce it slowly back to eating.

“I think I learned my lesson.” Mizu’s stomach growled, still irritated from the night before. She stood up, feeling lightheaded, “think Johannes saved us anything in the kitchen?” Mizu picked up a tray from last night. It had food but it had been puked on and was in need of cleaning.

“Hope so, I’m starving.” They headed out towards the kitchen. Maybe tea and hardtack would settle her stomach. It was worth a try.

Chapter 46: Taigen

Notes:

I have a lot on my mind. Have a chapter! Hope you enjoy.

Taigen kept a close eye on Mizu for the rest of the day. They’d gone to the kitchen for a late breakfast. He’d gotten a full meal of leftovers while Mizu had managed to keep down some softened hardtack and tea. She chewed it slowly as Johannes lectured her about the dangers of eating spoiled food. Taigen found it funny how she’d let the cook lecture her at times. Johannes did tend to ramble, and he had mentioned how much Mizu reminded him of his sister. Taigen’s own younger sister had lectured him last time he went to Kohama and if they made it to England, Mizu might get meet her own sisters for the first time. Taigen wondered how much she might resemble them, if they were tall, if they had blue eyes, if they smiled like her or were anywhere near as stubborn. He hoped they were kind to her. If Taigen ever made it back to Kohama he would try to reconcile his relationship with Kaguya. If their mother was still alive by then, perhaps she would eventually recognise him if he hung around.

After eating, Mizu refused to relax. This time she would not be lectured. She’d taken up a few small tasks of repairing damaged sails. Taigen sat with her as he fixed holes in fishing nets. While his first catch when they landed in Mauritius had been successful, when Taigen had put the nets back out later in the day, he’d been less lucky. Something had chewed through half of the nets, making a mess of them. Fixing them was proving to be a challenge. At least it gave him an excuse to sit with Mizu as she sewed the sails back together. She was quiet but it was a comfortable silence. Before he knew it, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The previous night of barfing her guts out must have exhausted her.

Mizu was only truly peaceful in her sleep. She was not the angry, single-minded swordsman she was when she left Japan, but she always had so much on her mind. It was always so nice to see her rest. Not wanting to disrupt her slumber, Taigen picked her up, lifting her over his shoulder to carry her back to her bunk. She was heavier than she looked. Taigen could feel the thin layer of muscle under her skin. Ren and Nobu looked at them and were chatting to themselves. Taigen didn’t know what they were saying, and he didn’t care. He liked the ship’s crew but felt no need to announce anything to them. He’d lost his taste for boasting. Instead, he carried Mizu down to her bunk, tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead before he let her sleep. The worst was over, she just needed her rest.

Taigen found himself yawning on the way back up to the deck. He had to put the sails away, as well as the fishing nets. He was fully capable of repairing them on his own, but then what excuse would he have to follow Mizu around as she finished up with the sails? He sat down, his own eyes heavy with sleep. The sails were heavy but oddly comforting as though they were a blanket. Before he knew it, Taigen drifted off. The wind on the sea lulling him to sleep until he heard the sound of hands clapping in front of his face.

“You alright there catch of the day?” The captain teased, ruffling Taigen’s hair.

“Yeah, tired,” he suppressed a yawn. Staying up with Mizu had worn him out.

“Well, how about I help you put these nets away and you go back and get some sleep,” Daisuke offered. There was a warmth in his voice. One Taigen had never heard in his own father’s.

“Thanks, I could use it.” Between the two of them, they picked up the nets and sails to bring back into the storage room in which they were kept. It always surprised Taigen that the captain was willing to participate in such menial tasks. It was such a different mentality than what Taigen had grown up with at the dojo or even with his own family. Some tasks were menial, meant for women or servants or new recruits. Things were different on the ship. Whether unique to Daisuke or not, the captain did not see himself above chores like laundry or mopping the deck.

“You know Taigen, you’re a natural sailor. I haven’t gotten a lot of stowaways over the years, a few drunks, but never a samurai, disgraced or otherwise.” Daisuke opened up the storage room for them. It was a small, neglected room at the end of the hall. There were enough windows so Taigen could see the contents of the room: blankets, sails, nets, and other items, some of them covered in dust. They added the sails and nets to their respective piles.

“It’s funny, my dad was a fisherman. When I was a kid, I hated being on boats. After he died, I ran off to Kyoto to become a samurai. I never wanted to step foot on a boat ever again. But that’s all over, and here I am.” He ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

“So, you do know something about boats. Also, your hair looks nice, you don’t look like a disgraced samurai anymore but trust me, you look good.”

“I think I’m used to it now. I’m still figuring out who I am.”

“When you get to Europe, you’ll be a foreigner.”

“I know, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I thought I knew everything growing up in Japan. Seeing all those different people from different places in Batavia, I felt like my head was being split open.” Taigen admitted.

“Your mind felt like a coconut smashed on a rock.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Kaito’s expression not mine,” Daisuke explained.

“Mizu’s dad,” Daisuke nodded, “can I ask you something about him?”

“I don’t see why not?” The captain shrugged.

“Is she like him? She really looks like him, but how much of her personality did she get from him?” Taigen had met Mizu’s father twice; Daisuke had known him his whole life.

“In some ways. Kaito was always stubborn, if Mizu’s any good with a sword she probably gets that from him too. He was always single minded. But Kaito, let’s just call him an optimist. I don’t think Mizu has that.”

“Optimist?” Taigen remembered Mizu’s father as a man with a broken heart who drank himself half to death until he had a chance to find his daughter again. There was something haunting about his sad amber eyes.

“Growing up he thought if he became a samurai, he could provide for his family. Everyone called him a half-breed with half a wit. But he succeeded, at the first part at least. He never was able to protect his mother. Or Eliza. Or his daughter. He had an open mind and a bleeding heart. The moment I saw Mizu on the docks I knew I had to reunite them.”

“I’m glad you did.” Taigen closed the door to the storage room as they headed down the hall, “I’m glad I was there to see it.”

“I don’t know what’s waiting in London for Mizu, but it’s a good thing you’re here. Whatever she’ll face, she won’t have to face it alone. It would break Kaito’s heart if he lost her again.”

“He wouldn’t be the only one,” Taigen thought of master Eiji. If anything happened to Mizu in London, and he survived, he would have to be the one to come back with the bad news.

“Well, Mizu’s on a journey and so are you. Go get some rest. You’ll need it.” Daisuke patted him on the shoulder. Taigen found himself yawning again. He had a lot to think about. But first he needed sleep.

Chapter 47: Mizu

It took Mizu a few days to get back to normal. As it turned out, puking one’s guts out after eating rotten food was an exhausting experience. Sickness was an enemy, but not one that she could stab with a sword or shoot with a gun. No amount of swordsmanship could protect her from disease. Were Mizu actually an onryo, food poisoning would not be a concern but as a flesh and blood human woman it was in her best interest to actually take care of herself. At least if Mizu had any intention on surviving her quest.

For the first day or so, her stomach was so irritated that all she could keep down was tea and hardtack. Perhaps Mizu had been too hard on the dreaded sailor’s crackers. When softened in tea or broth, they formed a sort of flavourless paste. It still tasted terrible, but it settled her stomach. Now she was back to eating the same stew as the rest of the crew. They still had some of the fruit they’d brought on board from Mauritius. So far there hadn’t been any rat infestations.

She’d also needed a lot of sleep. Mizu did not like sleeping more than she had to. Sleep felt like a waste of time. It made her vulnerable. But she needed it. Her will was strong, but her body had its limits. Johannes had given her a very stern lecture about her habits. Afterwards he’d given her a hug and told her he was happy she was not a corpse. Taigen continued to follow her around anxiously. He went so far as carrying her back to her bunk when she’d fallen asleep while mending sails. Mizu wanted to be bothered by it. She wanted to be annoyed. Truth was, she enjoyed the attention. Taigen’s presence was welcome, even for such mundane tasks as cleaning up around the ship.

Today she was on her own, finishing up with the sails she had been trying to mend. The sails were old and needed constant mending, not unlike her own clothing. Tohru, the first mate of the ship had mentioned something about replacing some of them once the ship arrived in Amsterdam. For now, Mizu was able to keep the sails holding together until they reached their destination. The goal was to stay afloat until they got to Amsterdam, transport Fowler to London with her, and search for her uncle and her mother’s husband. It sounded simple at sea; it would look more complicated once they set foot in London. But that was London’s problem.

Finally finished with the sails, Mizu folded them up to put away. The storage room was in an abandoned corner of the ship. Nobody went there unless they had to get something. If Mizu were to kill someone and hide the body, it would be her location of choice as it would likely be decomposed beyond recognition before anyone so much as noticed the smell. In order to get there, Mizu had to get through the rest of the ship. Lunch had just ended, and the crew were filing out of the mess hall. Ryo, Ren, and Nobu were chatting in the hallway. They were always chatting. Mizu wondered how they hadn’t run out of words to say. Mizu hid under the stairs in hopes of avoiding getting roped into another of their pointless conversations.

“The wind is good today,” Ren noted, “nothing out there but the sea and the sky. We haven’t seen another ship since we left Mauritius.” He picked a piece of salt pork from his teeth.

“I think it’s kind of lonely, the open ocean.”

“Maybe Nobu, but I’ll take the open ocean over pirates,” Ryo argued.

“Or privateers.”

“What’s the difference anyways?” Much like Nobu, Mizu was not familiar with the difference between pirates and privateers.

“Pirates are thieves with a boat, privateers are thieves with a boat and government papers to go after ships from enemies of the country giving them papers,” Ren explained, “we’re flying under the Dutch East India Company, if privateers come after us, they’ll probably be English or Portuguese. If pirates come after us, they could be from anywhere.”

“I hope we don’t get robbed and murdered. I’m looking forward to visiting Amsterdam. Maybe I’ll even follow Mizu to London. I’ve never seen England. Johannes says London’s a dirty city with bad food.” So, it wasn’t Ryo’s first trip to Amsterdam after all.

“I still can’t believe she’s real.” Ren admitted.

“London?”

“No, Mizu,” Ren rolled his eyes, “Kaito’s ghost girl.”

“Well Ren, if she’s real then she’s not a ghost.”

“I made up all those ghost stories because I was lonely and wanted friends. I knew Kaito because he was my dad’s friend but none of the other kids in Nagasaki did. We all thought she died in a fire,” Ryo confessed.

“She looks so much him. Except the eyes. She must have her mom’s eyes.” Nobu was not wrong. In the past Mizu, when Mizu look at her reflection and noticed her eyes she saw an onryo, now she saw a part of her mother.

“Poor girl. She was stranded in Japan with no family. Taigen says people were awful to her, including him when he was a kid. No wonder she wanted to stab people.”

“I think Mizu did stab people Ren. She was a swordsman on a revenge quest. She was hiding out pretending to be a man so no one would find her. I think Taigen said something about her beating him in a fight and him following her or something. I can’t keep track of those two. They have such a complicated history. They’re always together too,” Ryo explained. Mizu wondered how the crew would react if they knew everything that she had done.

“Are they together in the same place, or are they together-together?” Ren asked.

“I thought they were together this whole time. Maybe it’s a warrior bond. Ryo, you’re her bunkmate, what do you know?”

“Oh, he follows her around like a puppy. He adores her. She likes him too. But they’re both really stubborn. They are hopelessly in love. I just don’t know if they’ve done anything about it yet.” Ryo shrugged.

“Maybe we should start another betting pool,” Nobu suggested.

“You’re only saying that because you won the last one.”

“No Ren, I’m suggesting it because I’m bored.”

“How about you follow me,” Ryo grinned wickedly, “I can write everything down for us.” He led Ren and Nobu back to his bunk to set up the betting pool. Mizu was on a ship of fools, though she was grateful it was a safe one for her. It was hard not to think of everything as silly. Still, once she got to London, Mizu knew that she would long for the days when sailor’s gossip was the worst of her problems.

Notes:

Bit of a lighter chapter, hope you enjoyed.

I've thought about making a drinking game where everytime hardtack is mentioned you take a shot but this would probably lead to alcohol poisoning so I don't recommend it.

Chapter 48: Taigen

Notes:

Just a note, this chapter contains mature/explicit content.

It took Taigen over a week to fix all of the fishing nets. He’d started when Mizu had begun to repair the sails, but she had proven to be faster at sewing than he was at repairing nets. It wasn’t as though he lacked experience, in fact, it was the job often delegated to him by his brothers on their father’s fishing boat. Back then, he’d dreaded the task. He’d dreaded the tedium of the job, he’d dreaded his brother’s teasing, and he’d dreaded his father’s fists. His father’s anger often had more to do with how much he’d had to drink than whether Taigen had done a good job of fixing the nets or not. It was a task he was happy to leave behind with his hometown.

It was different on the ship. Fixing nets was as tedious as ever, but away from his brothers’ malice and his father’s rage it became just a chore like any other. It gave him an excuse to sit on the deck of the ship and keep his hands busy as he chatted with the sailors as they sailed and maintained the ship. Mizu was often there, keeping herself busy with some other tedious chore. Today she was mopping bird poop off the deck as he had finished up with the nets. Taigen couldn’t help but smile seeing the look of intense focus on her face. She had the same look on her face while scrubbing seagull excrement as she did when she sliced her way through Fowler’s castle. If Taigen had to spend his days doing tedious chores, he’d rather do them with her.

Looking over, Taigen could see Mizu wringing out the mop. She had finished mopping around the same time as he had finished with the nets. He asked her if she could help him to put the nets away. Mizu nodded, picking up half and taking them down to the storage room with him. The sailors were chatty this morning, Taigen could see Ryo, Ren, and Nobu discussing something in the mess hall. The trio of sailors started whispering when they saw him and Mizu walking by. He said nothing until they finally reached the storage room. As usual there was no one in that end of the ship. The room was silent except for the wind outside and the sound of waves crashing against the walls of the ship.

“They’re talking about us.” Mizu closed the door behind her. There was no one else in the room, at that point Taigen would have been fine if there was no one else in the world.

“Anything good?” Taigen thought back to the dojo gossip. There was never any shortage of it and back in those days he had been one to boast.

“Ryo is setting up another betting pool, about us. Whatever we are.” Mizu rolled her eyes.

“I don’t mind being something.” Taigen smirked. He reached over to tuck part of her bangs behind her ears. They had almost grown out enough not to fall back into her face. A reminder that while it felt like nothing, they’d been at sea for over two months.

“I guess they’re going to talk either way.” Mizu looked at him and bit her lip. She blinked slowly, in her eyes Taigen could see equal parts hunger and hesitation. It filled him with an odd sense of pride that he’d never seen her look at anyone else that way.

“How about we let them talk.” He traced a scar on the side of her neck with his fingers. At some point Taigen hoped to get the stories behind all her scars. He wondered how many of them she even remembered.

“Hmmm.” She reached out to kiss him. Her tongue was warm in his mouth. She stroked his jawline with her long, elegant fingers. Mizu had such beautiful hands. Taigen had first noticed this about her as they were wrapped around her sword during their fight at the dojo. At the time he blamed it on the alcohol. Since then, he had thought about them often.

His own hands found their way down her back. He could feel all the places her yukata had been sewn back together. Taigen wondered what had been sewed together in more places, Mizu’s clothes or her skin. He reached down to untie her belt. She shook off first her yukata, then her juban, and finally the rest of her clothes. Her pale skin was a map of scars, each of them representing a journey. A path not taken. A death avoided.

After all this time, Taigen finally got a good view of her body. At the end of the day, Mizu was a sinewy country girl. Nothing he hadn’t seen before. Taigen had seen his share of women in the brothels of Kyoto, had a few flings with the local merchants’ daughters, and of course nearly married Akemi. Mizu was tall and slender, but so were plenty of women. With some effort, she was able to pass as a man. With a sword in hand, she was a force of nature. Here she was a human woman, flesh and blood like any other. He didn’t want any other. He wanted her.

Mizu tugged at the knot in his belt. He’d tied it in a rush this morning, a lopsided, overly tight knot any sailor would be ashamed of. The determination in her eyes as she tried to undo it made her all the more appealing. Taigen did not know the full history of Mizu’s life with her geriatric husband and was unsure if he had ever forced himself on her. This was not something Taigen had any desire to do and not something he had ever done. No, Mizu wanted him, and he knew it. It would be hard for him not to boast about it.

Taigen felt his cock strain against his pants as Mizu finally found her way through the knot. He shook off his pants and embraced her. Her legs wrapped around him; he could feel himself inside of her. Their hips thrust in unison. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the muscles under her skin. Mizu moaned softly as he came inside of her. She clung to him, as though she never wanted to let him go. Taigen could feel the waves of pleasure washing through him, just as he could hear the waves crashing against the side of the ship.

Notes:

I've written very few sex scenes in my life and have not written one in years. Hopefully by time I finish writing this fic I'll be more at ease with writing them.

Chapter 49: Mizu

Notes:

And the journey continues, it took me a while to figure out what to write for this one.

“I think I gave you that one.” Taigen’s fingers traced the scar on her shoulder. He had, in fact, given her that scar during their fight at the dojo. A lifetime ago and a world away.

“I sewed it up in the woods outside of Kyoto. Ringo walked in on me. It’s how he found out I was a woman.” Mizu thought back to the winter. She had been naked and soaking wet, desperately grasping at her sword and ready to kill anyone who got too close. All Ringo had to say for himself was ‘peaches’. She wondered what he would think about her now, lying in Taigen’s arms in the storage room of a merchant ship. Her past self would have been horrified. Her present self was satisfied.

“Ringo sure can keep a secret.”

“Yeah, I guess he can.” Mizu laughed, “no one ever looked up to me before. I had no idea what to do about it, so I tried to push him away. He was persistent.” Mizu thought of Ringo's bell, now melted into her own steel. She could feel Taigen’s arms around her. He was warm. Somehow, he was always warm. Part of her was never wanted to leave his arms but part of her desperately wanted to run. She was not used to being held. Mikio had fucked her, but never held her. Swordfather was loving at a distance and if mama felt any affection for her, she hadn’t shown it in such a way. But Taigen, Taigen was clingy. The way he loved still felt foreign at times, like a language she was still in the middle of learning to speak. Mizu was a quick learner in other aspects of her life, and she was growing to appreciate the easy affection she held in her fingertips, and which rolled off her tongue.

“Lots of students looked up to me at the dojo, I didn’t deserve it. Not back then anyways.”

“Your students needed better training.” Mizu leaned her head onto his shoulder. She wondered how the past version of Taigen, the one she crossed paths with in the winter, would think of the man he’d become.

“I didn’t realize how much I had to learn,” Taigen admitted, “my world was so small. I thought keeping myself in that tiny world would make me a bigger man but, in the end, the walls were destined to cave in.” He sighed. Mizu could feel his chest rise and fall as he breathed in and out. She leaned into him closer than she had before. Mizu wondered if her bony frame made her uncomfortable to be with.

“When I left Japan, I couldn’t find London on a map.” The great fire of Edo had blinded her with rage and guilt. When she first got on the boat, Mizu considered the trip a banishment of sorts. It had been her intention to die abroad.

“I still can’t find London on a map.” Taigen had never seen the map in her father’s house. She was certain they had one on the ship.

“It’s in England. Tiny island, smaller than Japan,” Mizu explained.

“How’s your English coming along?”

“I can hold a basic conversation.” Mizu hoped what Fowler was teaching her was English. She still needed to learn how to read and write the language. If she had at least one relative in England who didn’t hate her for existing, they might be able to help her learn. Mizu wondered if any of her sisters spoke Japanese.

“Johannes is teaching me Dutch.” Most of the crew spoke Dutch, Johannes was the only one actually from the Dutch Republic.

“You’ll get to practice once we reach Cape Town.” Assuming the rest of the trip went smoothly, Cape Town would mark the halfway point on their trip to London.

“I can impress you by talking with the other sailors on the docks.” Taigen grinned; Mizu couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was grinning smugly.

“Maybe. We should be able to spar on the beach.” They’d been banned from sparring on the ship. It would be difficult to make it to London if they poked too many holes in the wooden ship.

“Good. Don’t want my sword skills getting rusty.” Mizu had watched Taigen train with one of the wooden swords aboard the ship. She had done the same. Mizu suspected he found it as grounding as she did, despite them both being in the middle of the ocean.

“By the time we get to Cape Town we’ll have spent over three months at sea. We won’t see Japan for years.”

“I miss Japan, do you miss Japan?” Taigen played with Mizu’s hair absentmindedly.

“I don’t know.” Mizu missed Ringo and Swordfather and being in nature rather than enclosed in the walls of the ship. Part of her missed being angry. The world was a simpler place when she was angry at it rather grieving everything that could have been, “maybe London won’t be as terrible as Fowler and Johannes seem to think. I’ll get to meet my family.”

“Do you still want revenge?” A question that had been on Mizu’s mind since she met her father. For most of her life, revenge was the only thing she wanted. Now it felt like a burden, a chill she couldn’t shake out. Whatever happened in London, she would not be leaving there without blood on her hands.

“I want to live without a bounty on my head.” Mizu closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Taigen’s breathing. It was as steady as the crash of waves against the ship.

“You have very low expectations for your life.” Mizu could practically hear Taigen rolling his eyes.

“I’m not used to it.”

“To what.” Taigen stroked her cheek.

“Wanting a life. Wanting to live,” Mizu sighed. Revenge had meant everything to her. All she’d had was focus. Now she had to figure out who she was and what she wanted. She suspected Swordfather would be pleased with her. Ringo was taking good care of him. If Mizu ever made it back to Japan, she would want to see them again. Even this was new to her.

“Most people don’t want to die Mizu.” She knew this. Still, Taigen’s words hit her like a fallen tree.

“It’s not that I wanted to die. I wished I was never born.”

“I’m glad you were. And I’m sorry,” There was more sadness than guilt in Taigen’s voice, “I don’t want a world without you.”

“I’m not fighting for revenge anymore. I guess I want something more. Something else.”

“Well, I’m here. For you, with you as you figure it out.” Mizu turned around to kiss him. They had plenty of time to themselves. Until the sun sank into the horizon, the afternoon was theirs.

Chapter 50: Fowler

Notes:

It's been a week. Have a chapter.

Fowler was still trying to figure out what to do with Mizu. The Mizu who had boarded the ship and locked him in a cage was a creature of rage and shame. It wasn’t just any woman who would burn a whole city to the ground in the name of revenge. Mizu was a weapon. All she knew how to do was kill. At this, she excelled.

The thing about a weapon, was that it was a tool like any other. Abijah Fowler would not have gotten where he had in life, were he not a resourceful man. All Fowler needed to do was convince Mizu of his utility in achieving her quest while pointing her in the direction of his enemies and business rivals. She was a sword, and he’d wanted her in his hands, a sharp blade pointed wherever it benefitted him to point.

The stowaway had ruined everything. Fowler had deduced that Mizu had initially planned for her trip to London as a clean cut, one where she left everything she knew behind in order to complete her quest. Fowler suspected she had no plans to return, and it was likely she had no plans to survive her quest. This was convenient for him. At least it would have been had her stupid pet samurai not tracked her down, following her like an abandoned dog still loyal to its master. He hadn’t left her alone, now he was chasing her halfway around the world.

It would have been a small comfort to Fowler if the man was miserable. He was not. To be fair, Fowler had seen him in his dungeon where misery was all but guaranteed, but the idiot seemed to be truly thriving on the ship. He was less pasty than he’d been in the winter, and someone had finally fixed his hair. The sailors seemed to like him, and Mizu appeared to as well. Every so often, Fowler would catch a glimpse of the two of them together. They’d certainly gotten closer over time. Fowler wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d fucked in the two weeks since they’d gotten back to sea since the last time the boat docked. He’d also gotten to meet the ship’s menace of a cook. At least now he knew that aside from Mizu, the rest of his jailers were working for the Dutch. The last thing Fowler wanted was for the Dutch East India Company to have Mizu as their weapon instead of him. No. He needed her selfish and he needed her angry.

“Lunch,” Mizu slipped a tray into the cage for him. The food was dreck, but in spite of the cook’s threats, they were still feeding him. Mizu had come to bring him lunch, stay for an English lesson, and leave for the afternoon. She was a fast learner and a diligent student. He’d never had anyone to teach English to before. Heiji Shindo already knew the language and no one else in Japan seemed to want to learn. If Fowler were the type of man to value having an heir or successor of some sort, Mizu would be perfect for the job. Routley and Skeffington would resent her for it. And Catherine Skeffington would resent her the most. Fowler had to survive the trip, he had to make it back to London, if only for the amusement of seeing the Routleys and Skeffingtons be forced to interact with their long-lost relation.

“Oh Mizu, you remind me more and more of your mother.” Fowler lifted the bowl of stew to his mouth, chugging it down. A non-insignificant portion of it dripped into the beard he’d grown in captivity.

“Do I,” Mizu blinked. There was no fear in her eyes. They held less of the anger and grief they had before. Fowler remembered the long trip on the boat that had taken him from London to Nagasaki. Skeffington and his wife were on ship. Eliza Skeffington had begged her husband to let her stay in London with their daughter. ‘Aren’t our girls enough’, she’d cried at his feet. But Lord Skeffington had wanted a male heir to the Skeffington name and for that he needed his wife present to give him one. Eliza had scarcely left her cabin during the journey, having suffered a miscarriage at sea and being in poor health. Ironically, it was in her husband’s absence that Eliza truly came to life while in Japan. She was a quiet woman with a love for nature and the arts. Something in her eyes had changed when she’d fallen in love with Mizu’s father. She had been happy. Fowler could see the same expression when he looked at Mizu. Eliza’s eyes staring back at him. Oh, the family drama that awaited her in England.

“More than you could ever know.” She was curious now. He needed her curious. Fowler knew to feed her just enough information that she would have more questions than answers.

“I could know if you told me.” Her eyes narrowed; she leaned into the bars of his cell. If not angry, he was at least able to annoy Mizu.

“Why spoil the fun,” Fowler reached over, sticking his fingers out of the cell to tuck some of Mizu’s grown-out bangs behind her ear, “Hmm, you’re prettier than I first gave you credit for.” Mizu recoiled, clearly, he’d caught her off-guard. Good. “You really can’t take a complement now, can you?”

“What do you want Fowler?” Mizu sighed. She stepped away from his cell and leaned against a storage crate as he ate the rest of his lunch. By this point in the voyage, she’d given up passing herself up as man. She wore the same clothes as ever, but she’d given up binding her breasts and had taken to wearing her hair up in a more feminine style of ponytail that Fowler had occasionally seen women wear in Japan. Once one looked passed her parentage, she was a perfectly lovely woman.

“I want you to open the door of this cage. I’d kill for some fresh air.” From his cage in Japan and now this cage in the middle of the ocean, Fowler had spent far too much of the last few decades of his life as a prisoner. He took one last gulp of his tea and slid the empty tray back out of his cell.

“Okay.” She shrugged. Perhaps the months at sea had taken their toll on her as well.

“Alright then, let me out.”

“I will. When we get to London.” Mizu picked up the tray. Fowler hadn’t expected Mizu to give him free range of the cell, but it was worth a shot. She left him in the cargo hold but Fowler knew she would return later for an English lesson. Mizu had expressed interest in learning how to read and write in English. Perhaps he would teach her to read but not to write. Mizu being literate in English would be dangerous, it was one power over her he still held. He’d have to figure something out with her once she was no longer useful to him. She was pretty enough to be a curiosity in certain circle. Thomas Routley would figure something out. The man had no problem pimping out his sister, Fowler doubted he’d have any objections to doing the same to his niece. They could iron out the details once they got to London. He just had to get to London.

Notes:

50 chapters? Can you believe it? That's quite a milestone isn't it! Thanks for sticking around.

Chapter 51: Mizu

Notes:

Hope you're having a good week and that you enjoy the chapter!

Mizu was no stranger to discomfort. The scars and burns on her skin from a lifetime of forging swords and fighting with them were evidence of this. Fighting was one thing. Battle scars made sense to her. These were inevitable to the demon’s path of revenge that for so long she had dedicated herself to. For years, Mizu had pushed her body to its limits in order to achieve her goal. Now that her goal was called into question, her body had decided that it had other plans.

Regardless of her feelings about it, Mizu’s body had decided that she was a woman after all. For the third month in a row, she’d had a regular cycle of monthly bleeding. Nearly three weeks back at sea and once again, she was back to bleeding and cramps. It wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt. It would only last for a few days. Still, it was uncomfortable. Mizu wished she could give the blood and cramps to all the boasting men she’d met who claimed that women were weak. Whenever such men had come to Swordfather for a sword, she always cursed the steel and spat on it before helping him forge the weapon. Her body had been awkward, and she’d bled irregularly as a teenager, and she’d bled irregularly if at all when alone on her quest. It was only on Mikio’s farm where her body had settled into any sort of cycle. At least until now.

Being on the ship had given her body both routine and respite. Sure, there was no shortage of physical labour but being able eat, sleep, and not be stabbed on a regular basis were doing wonders for Mizu’s health. Her life on the ship was mundane. Mizu didn’t mind. It she outlived her quest; it probably wouldn’t bother her to live a quiet life somewhere. Maybe Taigen would have some ideas. That was, if he still wanted anything to do with her afterwards. He liked her, sure, but she was also the only woman on the ship. Everything would change once they got to London. Everything would change again if they made it back to Japan.

She stirred the boiled nail tea with a spoon. It looked and smelled like rust. This time Johannes had found some oranges that had not yet begun to rot, and he’d squeezed them into the pot. Mizu took a sip. The tea tasted like rust with a squeeze of citrus. She took another sip. It was not an enjoyable beverage, but she’d drunk far worse things in her life. Curled up in her bunk, she’d wrapped herself in a blanket despite the heat. It was sticky, and stinky, and sweaty. The first thing Mizu would do when she got to Cape Town would be to have a bath. Her last bath had been in Batavia over two months ago.

“Tastes like rust, doesn’t it?” Mizu rolled herself over, nearly falling out of her bunk to see Ryo sitting on the floor drinking a mug of the same boiled nails as she was.

“Ryo?” Mizu raised an eyebrow. If Ryo was drinking the same boiled nails as she was, did that make Ryo a woman as well? Ryo was stocky, and far shorter than Mizu but Daisuke was also short and stocky, so Mizu hadn’t thought anything of it. His face was on the rounder side but so was Ringo’s and there wasn’t anything explicitly feminine about him. Not that Mizu had been looking.

“Cheers.” Ryo smiled awkwardly, grimacing as he took another sip from his mug. Her mug? Mizu had questions.

“I had no idea,” Mizu confessed, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“Oh, everyone already knows. Maybe not Taigen or the prisoner, but everybody else. Dad thought it would be good for you if we were bunkmates, it would be awkward for you to bunk with the rest of the crew. I’m just glad you don’t snore. Plus, I was curious if you were like me?” Ryo explained.

“Living as a man like you? Life as a woman, it has its challenges.” Mizu thought back to her doomed marriage.

“I mean yeah, I always dreamed of being a sailor, even when I was a little kid. But it’s more than that. I was supposed to be a boy, it was my body that was wrong, so I do my best to work around it. I have a twin sister. We looked identical growing up but we we’re so different. She’s happily married to a fishmonger back in Nagasaki. Mom and dad don’t need to worry about grandkids or anything. I’m glad they’re okay with me. Did you ever feel like that? Like your body was wrong?”

“Hmmmm,” Mizu thought back to Mama trying to pass her off as a boy in order to keep her safe. Being a boy meant safety and opportunities. She doubted Swordfather would have taken a girl as an apprentice. Living as a man meant being able to travel and earn a living. It meant not being connected to the bounty that hung over her head. It was a means to an end, “There’s no joy in being an ugly girl. Especially not one with blue eyes. I did what I had to do.”

“Okay, but if people were nice to you and you weren’t in any danger, would you have been happy growing up as a girl?” Ryo asked. He stared right through her. Mizu bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. She thought back to her father, if her parents had escaped with her somewhere what would she have become?

“If I were happy, I wouldn’t have even thought about it.” Mizu hoped it was a satisfying answer. If Mikio hadn’t sold her out that day, chances are they would still be married.

“So, you’re not like me.”

“I’m still figuring myself out Ryo.” Mizu took another sip of the now tepid boiled nails. It tasted worse as it cooled.

“Aren’t we all. We don’t know anything, at least you know you’re not pregnant, not that there’s a reason for you to be.” Ryo winked. Mizu knew better than to tell him about her and Taigen’s activities in the storage room.

“I always assumed a demon couldn’t bear children,” not that she thought she was a demon anymore, but Mizu had always assumed that her heritage would prevent her from being able to carry a child as some hybrid animals happened to be sterile.

“Oh Mizu, you’re not a demon and you’re not ugly,” Ryo frowned, “besides, your dad is half Japanese and half Dutch. So is Johannes’s mom and she has three kids. Hideki’s half Portuguese and he has a daughter, Haru. She must have five kids by now. I don’t see why you couldn’t have kids if you wanted them.” The navigator of the ship being half Portuguese was news to Mizu.

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Mizu lay back down on her bunk. She’d never even considered the possibility of having a family, not even during her marriage. Revenge had always been her priority. Now she wanted more, though what exactly she wanted more of remained a mystery to her.

“You’ve got time, you’ll figure it out.” Ryo shrugged. Every so often, Mizu saw glimpses of Daisuke’s wisdom in her bunkmate. She wondered what glimpses of her father Ryo saw in her. If she survived her quest, she would have the opportunity to find out.

Chapter 52: Taigen

Notes:

Halfway through December, can you believe it? More believable is that I wrote another chapter.

It was his turn to help with the dishes. After a particularly messy lunch, Taigen had finally brought the last of the dirty cups, bowls, and cutlery back into the kitchen. He’d left Mizu to wipe the tables and mop the floors with Ryo, Ren, and Nobu as he made his way back into the kitchen. They’d rotated between the sailors, who did what chores as to avoid both boredom and conflicts. Tohru had mentioned one ship he had worked on in his youth where the laundry crew had revolted. This had led to mutiny aboard and the captain ended up getting tied to the mast with dirty underwear. Taigen was grateful to not be on such a ship.

Johannes was waiting in the kitchen for him. He’d boiled water for washing but was reading something while he waited. It appeared to be a book of sorts with handwritten notes. From what Taigen could see, the writing was in Japanese, but it was messy and some of the kanji were wrong.

“What are you reading,” Taigen started on the dishes.

“Notes from my travels. I suppose when we get to Cape Town in a week I should update them to record the events of the return trip.” The cook shoved the book hastily under the pots.

“Travels huh, I’m surprised they let you out of the Dejima.” Outside of the white men Mizu had sworn herself to kill, the only other foreigners in Japan were the Dutch merchants whose movements were heavily controlled and confined. Taigen had wondered how Johannes had snuck into the country ever since he’d met the cook in the early days of their travels.

“Well, Mizu has orange glasses to hide her eyes, I have a pair that are red. The rest of me looks Japanese enough if you dress me up to fit in. Everyone was looking at the merchants, no one looked twice at the cook. My mother taught me the language as a child so I can speak without an accent, but that you already knew.” Johannes shrugged. Had he not told Taigen that he was Dutch, the cook’s origins most likely wouldn’t have even crossed his mind if they had met on the street. Taigen wondered if he would have called Johannes a dog the way he did to Mizu.

“Did anyone figure it out? That you were a foreigner?”

“Only once. In Kyoto.”

“Kyoto? You were in Kyoto?” Taigen nearly dropped the bowl he was washing.

“From early fall to mid-winter.” Less than a year and over a lifetime ago. Back then he’d still been the star student of the Shindo dojo.

“I was in Kyoto. For all I know we walked by each other on the street.”

“That’s not impossible.” Johannes stacked a row of cups and put them up on a shelf.

“It’s probably a good thing we didn’t meet. I was a real jerk back then,” Taigen admitted.

“I’m aware. If I were stuck on a boat with that version of you it would make for a rather unpleasant trip.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to be stuck on a boat with that version of me either,” Taigen admitted. He was still wearing the logo of the Shindo dojo on his yukata. He’d left the dojo and Akemi to track down Mizu without packing so much as extra underclothes. He was grateful for the spare underclothes he’d been given aboard the ship as he had nothing else to wear, “What gave it away?”

“My handwriting. Apparently, my grammar’s all wonky when I write in Japanese.”

“I would have just assumed you’re uneducated.” Taigen himself only learned how to read and write once he got to the dojo. His peers had made fun of him for months until he started to catch on.

“That would be the common assumption. Japanese has a completely different alphabet to Dutch. I don’t write in Japanese like a person who can’t read, I write in Japanese the way a Dutch person would. Most people would just chalk it up to poor literacy, unless they happen to be educated and aware of other languages,” Johannes explained.

“But who figured out you were a foreigner?”

“An older man, educated, an intellectual, handsome for his age. Worked as a tutor for the princess of the city. Could have gotten me into a lot of trouble. Blackmailed me into doing some light stalking for him but otherwise I’d say we hit it off. He had fancy words and a fine cock. Highlight of my trip,” Johannes confessed. Taigen’s jaw dropped at the revelation. Kyoto only had one princess, and she only had one tutor.

“Seki. You fucked Seki.” Taigen wanted to retch. He rubbed his eyes to scrub any potential mental images from entering his mind.

“Yes, that was his name. Good man, a better parent than the princess’s actual father. Seki did not like that man one bit.” Johannes stacked chopsticks in a box as though they were discussing the weather.

“If you knew Seki, did you ever meet Akemi?”

“Not exactly. I never did meet the princess.”

“What do you mean not exactly?”

“You see Taigen, this is where the minor blackmailing came in. He knew Akemi was seeing a boy behind her back and he wanted to know if that boy was worthy of her. So, I followed her and reported back with what I saw.” The cook bit his lip before smiling nervously.

“You stalked me. Seki had you stalking me.”

“Technically he had me stalking Akemi. I did not intervene. He really did want the best for her. He did not seem impressed with you. Based on what I saw I cannot say I blamed him.”

“You knew who I was. The whole time. The whole damn time.” Taigen furrowed his brows. He grabbed a handful of wet chopsticks and debated throwing them across the room.

“Please don’t throw another fish at me.” Johannes stepped away from the dishes, he looked ready to run.

“I’m not wasting fish on you. You’re lucky there I can’t reach the hardtack. That I would throw.” At that the cook started to laugh. Taigen couldn’t help but join in. The whole situation was ridiculous.

“I will admit, you were an unsavoury character back in Kyoto. The moment I saw your face on this ship I knew there was going to be trouble. And yes, there is trouble. You are trouble. But I dare say you’re well on your way to becoming a decent man. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“I don’t want to. Mizu’s dad said something similar. He told me not to break her heart.” Taigen thought back to his conversation with Mizu’s father in Batavia. He wondered what her father would think about his relationship with his daughter. Last time they met, Mizu’s father had been skeptical of him.

“I would not recommend that, unless you wish to end up like her last husband,” Johannes warned.

“If I betrayed her, I would probably deserve it.” Even at his worst, Taigen couldn’t imagine selling Mizu out for a bounty. A true swordsman would face his opponent. Not that Taigen saw Mizu as his opponent anymore.

“You would. Speaking of Mizu, could you find her for me? I need her help with something.”

Taigen nodded, heading out to find her, curious as to what the cook’s intentions were.

Chapter 53: Mizu

Notes:

Bit of a long chapter, hope you don't mind.

In the grand scheme of things, Mizu probably owed the cook a thousand favours. He had kept her and Taigen mostly out of trouble, though much of that trouble happened to be of their own making. Once they made it to Amsterdam, Johannes had already agreed to help her find her cousin, thus giving her a lead to find the rest of her family in London. She owed him a lot. In the grand scheme of things, there were worse things he could ask her to do than try on a kimono.

According to the cook, his sisters had wanted him to bring back kimonos for them from Japan. One of his sisters, Agata, had average proportions but his other sister, Cornelia was tall. According to Johannes, after a lifetime of too short hand-me-downs in her youth, the moment she could afford it, Cornelia had grown quite particular about having clothing that actually fit her. While Johannes had given the kimono-maker in Kyoto the proper measurements, he was unsure if they had been followed correctly. Thus, he had asked Mizu to try on the kimono as she was a similar height to his sister. He had also asked her an additional favour of helping him fake his death if it did not fit. Playing dead appealed to the cook more than facing his sister’s wrath. According to Taigen, who also had sisters, this was not an uncommon way to feel.

Funnily enough, Johannes’s mother, who had grown up in Japan could not care less to have a kimono and was content with her Western clothes. She had no nostalgia for her youth spent in Nagasaki. Mizu wondered what Johannes’s mother and sisters would think of her. Like them, she had both Japanese and Dutch blood, unlike them she was half-English. Like Johannes, they spoke Japanese so at the very least Mizu would have someone to talk to while in Amsterdam.

Putting on the kimono was both familiar and unfamiliar. Like her farm kimono, this one was blue though a much brighter shade than hers has been. Mizu likened it to the colour of the sky at noon on a clear day. Johannes’s sister also had blue eyes, though in the Dutch Republic they were considered a desirable feature rather than the mark of a demon. Getting dressed, Mizu could see there was a print of white and purple flowers. Unlike her farm kimono, this one was made of silk. She made a point to handle the fabric with care, as though her touch alone would ruin it. Mizu felt like a maid trying on her lady’s clothes.

When mama had first gotten her a kimono after reuniting, it had taken her some time to get used to tying the belt. Mama had fussed over her, chattering about how tall she’d grown and how she’d much of her life she’d missed after leaving Kohama. Mizu could still feel mama’s knowing fingers as she knotted it from memory. In spite of everything, she missed mama sometimes. Despite knowing now that she was not her real mother, mama had still cared for her, even if it was not always in the way that Mizu needed. One last knot and it was tied. She smoothed the fabric out and took a deep breath before walking out from behind the paper screen in the corner that separated the cook’s cot from the rest of the kitchen.

“I think it fits.” Mizu looked down at the kimono. If anything, it was a bit long and the seams were wide in the shoulders. The sleeves were impractically wide, and it was tighter on her legs than the one she wore on Mikio’s farm. While too short, that kimono was fine for farm work. It was not ideal for sparring, but she would have probably been able to work Swordfather’s forge in it. This kimono was ornamental. This was a kimono for a woman who didn’t have to work.

“Good,” the cook breathed a sigh of relief, “you look lovely. Now stand still, I need to inspect the fabric for bite marks.”

“Bite marks?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t be too careful after the last rat infestation. Damn rats ate the hardtack, they ate the salt pork, they ate our clothing, they ate the sails. We’re lucky the damn rats didn’t eat a hole in the boat.”

“Glad I wasn’t there.”

“I wish I wasn’t there.” Johannes frowned, inspecting the kimono. As far as Mizu could tell, there were no obvious holes in it.

“Guess I don’t have to help you fake your death to hide from your sister.”

“No, at least not yet.” He rustled her hair. If Johannes’s sister wanted to wear this sort of kimono, she probably wasn’t the sort of person to appreciate her hair being mussed, “you should go take a look at yourself., he suggested. It couldn’t hurt. Mizu walked over to mirror, nearly tripping. Knowing how to walk elegantly in a fancy kimono was not a skill that Mizu had. She tiptoes across the room, hearing footsteps from down the hall.

“Good news Johannes, the cargo didn’t get chewed this time,” Ryo looked as relieved as the cook had been looking at the kimono, “aww Mizu, you look so pretty you gotta see yourself!” Ryo and Taigen walked into the kitchen, presumably after checking the cargo hold for signs of a rat infestation. While Ryo chattered on, Taigen was silent. His face froze aside from his eyes as he blinked, still staring at her.

“Mizu, I’ve uh, I’ve never seen you dressed up before. You look nice.”

“I’ve never worn anything nice before,” Mizu admitted, she could feel her cheeks turning red.

“Me neither. But Ryo’s right, you really should see yourself.” Taigen offered her his arm to help her navigate across the kitchen until they made it to the mirror. It was strange to see herself in women’s clothing again. After a minute or two of staring at her reflection, she came to the conclusion that she actually didn’t mind it. Mizu dared admit she looked good in the kimono, but it was clear that she was not a lady. She was alright with being a woman, but she would never be a lady.

“It’s a lovely kimono; your sister should be happy with it.” It was an appropriate garment for a rich merchant’s wife to show off her husband’s wealth while entertaining guests.

“She should be, but with Cornelia you never know. If nothing else, it looks lovely on you as well. Brings out your eyes.”

“It does,” Mizu stared down her reflection. Perhaps her blue eyes weren’t so horrible after all, “but I think my hair ruins the look.” No respectable lady would wear her hair down, especially not in such a kimono.

“I have pins and a comb if you want to put it up,” Johannes offered.

“Oh, I can pin your hair up Mizu. My mom used to be a maid, so she knew how to do all sorts of fashionable styles for the lady she worked for. Too bad she had my sister and I, we couldn’t care less about fashion,” Ryo laughed. Johannes went to rummage by his cot for the pins and comb. Mizu suspected she was going to get her hair done whether she wanted it or not. She pulled out a stool and slouched. Or she tried to slouch. It felt wrong to slouch in such a kimono, so she settled for sitting up straight. Running a hand through her hair, she could tell it had grown in the past few months. Her hair had grown past her shoulders to an awkward armpit-length and her bangs were nearly long enough to tuck behind her ears. For now, she figured it would not kill her to grow it back out to her shoulder blades or the middle of her back. A proper lady would grow her hair long enough to sit on, but Mizu did not have the patience for that.

“Here we are.” The cook handed Ryo the comb and pins.

“It’ll be fun!” Ryo attempted to reassure her.

“Have fun.” She resigned herself to letting Ryo poke around at her hair. Mizu wondered if this would annoy her less if she were raised as a girl. Mama had always been frustrated with her hair as it was fine and knotted easily. She had almost seemed relieved when she came up with idea of shaving Mizu’s head to make her look more like a boy. After reuniting, mama had grumbled while showing Mizu how to pin her hair up which Mizu learned quickly so she did not need to bother mama with it. Based on what she’d heard about her actual mother, she would have liked to dress her up. Whether she would have enjoyed this or not was not something Mizu would ever know.

“That looks complicated. I still don’t know how Akemi did her hair up every day.” Taigen looked as confused as Mizu felt.

“Akemi was a princess. I think she had help.”

“I don’t think I ever saw Akemi with her hair down.”

“Did you ever see her without makeup?” Mizu would not have been surprised if she had gotten a better glimpse into Akemi’s nature at Madam Kaji’s brothel than Taigen had during their entire relationship.

“Once.”

“Speaking of makeup, that’s another thing my sisters will be curious about. I have paints, do you mind if I practice on you?” The cook interrupted.

“You can try, I don’t have the face for it,” Mizu sighed. The makeup she knew was designed to enhance the traditional Japanese beauty which Mizu did not have. It anything it enhanced the sharpness in her features.

“I’ve never had a problem with your face,” the cook shrugged and went to fetch art supplies.

“How many pins are you putting in my hair Ryo?” Mizu looked to the box of hairpins which appeared to be half empty.

“Lots. Your hair’s not that long so I needed more pins. Actually, I think I’m done.”

Mizu stood up to go look at herself. Ryo had put up her hair nicely and she made a mental note to herself to pin up her bangs more often. She looked halfway respectable. She thought back to Madam Kaji calling her more a man than any who walked through her door. Mizu wondered if she would still think that seeing her dressed like this.

“Okay Mizu, please sit and sit still. I never saw Japanese makeup before going to Japan, so this is a new medium for me,” Johannes admitted. Mizu went back to sit down.

“Did your mother ever wear it?” Mizu asked as the cook prepared his brushes. In the past, he’d made her up to look like a ghost so actual makeup would not pose too much of a challenge.

“Not that I can remember. Once she left Japan she never looked back.” Once in Amsterdam, Mizu would have to make a point to talk to Johannes’s mother. She watched the cook as he painted her face with the same expression he had when she’d caught up with him painting the landscape of Batavia. Perhaps for some women, it was an art. The last time she put makeup on was for Mikio as a way of trying to prove to him that she could be a proper wife. She remembered how sad and desperate and worthless she had felt. She hadn’t been enough for him. He sold her out. The marriage was a failure because of who and what she was. This time she was an art project. Mizu was annoyed, but she was safe.

“My sister hates makeup and my mom never wears it. The lady she worked for did. Every day but she had money, so she had to,” Ryo explained. Very few of the women in Kohama wore makeup on a regular basis. Mizu certainly hadn’t bothered for most of her time on Mikio’s farm. The horses were indifferent to her face.

“All right, I think we’re done here. Please check I did this properly in case my sisters start to make requests.” The cook put his brushes in water to clean them. Mizu hated the gunky feel of the paint on her face. She dreaded her reflection. Would she see a demon staring back at her?

“Looks alright to me,” Ryo reassured Johannes, “Taigen, what do you think?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Taigen stroked her hair gently, “but I knew that. You should see yourself.” He helped her up. Mizu once again walked over to the mirror. Looking at herself, she expected to be horrified or disappointed. Instead, she just saw herself dressed-up. Objectively, she supposed it looked nice, but the makeup and fancy kimono were impractical and uncomfortable. Mizu saw in herself an awkward country girl, but not a monster.

“I guess so, but I will never be a lady,” Mizu confessed, anxiously smoothing to fabric.

“Yeah, me neither,” Taigen admitted.

“The both of you are hopeless country hicks.” Johannes looked as though he wanted to smack their heads together.

“Absolute bumpkins.” Mizu smirked. She could hear Taigen and Ryo laughing behind her as she took a last look at her herself. Mizu recognised that would never be a traditional Japanese beauty. As it turned out, she could look lovely after all with a fair amount of effort. As it turned out, Mizu was grateful that this was not expected of her on a regular basis.

Chapter 54: Mizu

Notes:

One last chapter for this year. Because I am insane. This chapter is M-rated rather than T.

“I think you have enough nets to catch half the fish in the ocean.” Mizu supressed a laugh as she looked over Taigen’s shoulder. They would be docking in Cape Town tomorrow if the winds were on their side. The shoreline was visible in the distance and Mizu looked forward to stepping foot on solid ground after yet another month at sea.

“I’m just trying to make sure we have enough nets for two months of fish. After this stop we won’t see land for two months. I don’t need two months of nothing but hardtack and salt pork,” Taigen explained, checking the nets one last time to make sure they had no extra holes or weak spots in the rope. Once they left Cape Town it would be about two months until they reached Goree and one more until they reached Amsterdam and eventually London. Mizu had to agree with Taigen about the fish, two months of nothing but salt pork and hardtack would make for a dreary voyage. Johannes had argued that the most important provision to restock in Cape Town was fresh water.

“Guess your background as a fisherman’s son isn’t all bad,” Mizu observed. She was always taken aback how naturally being around boats came to Taigen. She supposed if she walked back into a forge, she would be the same way. Mizu always enjoyed watching him work. She could see his muscular arms underneath his rolled-up sleeves. He was focused, knowingly examining one net at a time. He had none of Swordfather’s artistry nor Ringo’s enthusiasm but somehow there was a sincerity to him that Mizu found had grown on her.

“Maybe, I used to think there were only two good things to do in Kohama: get fish dumplings and leave.” Taigen put the nets back in their corner of the storage room. It made sense for Taigen to resent his hometown, no place had brought him more misery in his life outside of perhaps Fowler’s dungeon. Mizu had been treated poorly everywhere she went. Kohama was not extraordinary to her in that regard.

“Would you ever go back?” The only times Taigen had gone back to Kohama since he had run away from home were when he was chasing her.

“I owe my sister a visit. I think she’d like you.” Mizu wondered what kind of siblings Taigen had. Chances are they would have grown up seeing her as a dog eating out of their trash, even if they hadn’t been so outspoken as he had been.

“You can dry fish together.”

“Obviously, everyone in Japan knows how to dry fish. At least everyone living on the coast.” It had not been uncommon to see baskets of fish drying in the sun in Kohama. As a child, Mizu had on more than one occasion stolen half-dried fish from unwatched baskets. Mackerel had always been her favourite, but any fish would do, back then she could not afford to be picky.

“I don’t know how to dry fish.” Mizu admitted.

“The legendary master Eiji never dried fish?” Taigen raised an eyebrow as though she had told him that Swordfather had never brewed tea or cooked rice.

“No Taigen, he made swords. Occasionally he picked some up when he went into town as a treat. He knew I liked it.”

“Are you a cat? Most kids would have asked for candy,” Taigen blinked in disbelief, “you know, I can always show you how to dry fish.”

“Thanks, I think I’d like to learn.” Mizu had wondered about drying fish but never thought to ask how to do it. She had figured she would not stay in one place long enough for her to need to learn that particular skill.

“How about, I teach you how to dry fish, and you teach me how to shoot a gun,” Taigen suggested, brushing her bangs out of her face.

“Not a bad idea. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be defenceless in London, now, would I? You didn’t even bring a sword with you when you stowed away on this ship.”

“You didn’t bring a sword either Mizu.” He was right. She’d jumped on the ship to a foreign country with no weapon, no plan, and a man that wished her ill. In that sense they were both reckless idiots.

“We deserve each other, don’t we?” It was almost time for supper. Almost. They didn’t have to head off to the mess hall quite yet.

“Maybe,” he reached over to kiss her, “and I’m getting exactly what I want.” Taigen could be so cocky and so stupid and yet, and yet, and yet it made her want him. She kissed back. There was a hunger in his kiss, a desperation, an honesty to his desires. “I even got to see you all dressed up, you clean up nice.” His hands found their way underneath her juban. She could feel her nipples harden as he reached for her breasts.

“I’ve never had anything nice.” Mizu dug her nails into Taigen’s shoulders.

“I’m nice.” He to a break from kissing her neck to stare up at her those sad dog eyes of his. His hands had found their way down to her belt which he was struggling to untie.

“Yes Taigen, you’re a good boy.” Mizu kissed his forehead and mussed his hair. It was growing out nicely and no longer made him look stupid. Now if he wanted to look stupid, he had to do the work of opening his mouth. Helping him along, she untied the rest of her belt as well as his own.

“The best.” He grabbed her ass as he kicked off his own pants. Mizu wrapped her own arms around his muscular back. She leaned her hips into his. She could feel his cock inside of her. As much as her self-doubt told her she was unattractive Mizu knew better. Taigen’s body had declared its attraction to hers long before he had been aware of it or even aware that she was a woman. The feeling was unfamiliar but undeniable. She felt Taigen’s strong hips thrust into hers and the insecurities faded from her mind replaced by a wave of pleasure. Mizu moaned softly. Taigen looked proud of himself; she couldn’t help but smile. They still had half an ocean to go before they reached Europe, but Mizu could have done far worse for travelling companions.

Notes:

Should I just change the rating of this fic at this point?

Also thank you for bearing with me as I face my writing fears and insecurities (never writing sex scenes, struggling with action scenes, being terrible at pacing, etc.). Only way to get better is to keep writing I suppose which is what I seem to be doing. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 55: Taigen

Notes:

New year new chapter!

The rain had finally ended. It had rained all night and had rained all morning even after the ship docked in Cape Town. It was only after hauling barrels of fresh water onto the ship that the rain had finally ended. It had been a cold rain too. They were no longer in the tropics. It was winter in Cape Town, though not nearly as cold as winter in Japan, the big mountain in the distance was covered in snow. Table Mountain. At least according to Daisuke, who claimed they’d named it that due the summit being flat.

While his hair had dried, Taigen’s clothes were still wet from the rain. It would take longer for them to dry than it did in the tropics. Mizu had worn her sun hat and pulled out her cape for the first time since Batavia. As she had in Mauritius, she’d chosen to dress as a man. Even if she wore the same clothing, Taigen had spent enough time with her to tell the difference between Mizu wearing men’s clothes and Mizu moving through the world as a man. Masculinity was a sort of armor for her, an article of protection that she only took off once she felt safe enough.

Even though the rain had ended for the afternoon, it was still winter and the rainy season. Naturally Mizu considered it a perfect time to wander off into the woods to go bathe in the river somewhere. Taigen thought this was a terrible idea. Cape Town, as new and small a colonial town as it was, must have some sort of bath house. However, Mizu was Mizu and could not be persuaded out of her solitary journey to the forest. With any luck she would not be eaten by animals.

Instead, Taigen took the opportunity to set up his nets in hopes of catching fish for the next leg of the journey. He had no idea what to expect from the shoreline of Cape Town. The beaches were beautiful, and the air was clear. It was different from Mauritius which was different from Batavia and all of which were different from anything he had seen in Japan. All Taigen could do is take it in and accept the world around him as he went. He would have to explore the shoreline before they headed back out to sea. If Mizu wanted, it would be a good place to spar. They could find a quiet spot with no one watching. He wondered if she missed fighting.

As he tied up his nets for the day, it became apparent to Taigen how much Dutch he’d managed to learn. Walking up and down the docks, he could now understand the snippets of conversations as he passed sailors. Most of it was mundane chatter, about the weather, brothels, hangovers, and other realities of life at sea. One sailor was rambling on about how he had made love to a mermaid on the beach as his fellow sailors attempted to explain to him that he’d gotten so drunk he had tried to seduce a seal and had ended up hitting his head on a rock. Ryo would get a laugh out of such a story; Taigen would have to share it with him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taigen saw Johannes writing in his journal as he walked down the docks. He was about to ask the cook if he needed help picking up provisions from town when someone else got to him first.

“Johannes!” The man waved at the cook, he was tall and stocky with blue eyes and pale-yellow hair, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a hundred years.” He pulled the cook into a big bear hug that Johannes looked desperate to claw himself out of.

“Hello Marten. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this trip to Japan aged me a hundred years. I don’t envy your life at sea, even if you are a captain,” the cook laughed politely.

“How was Japan by the way? The VOC has yet to send me there, most of my trade business is between Ceylon and Batavia.” VOC was another name for the Dutch East India Company. Its logo marked the blue, white, and red flag Daisuke’s ship marked its banners under. The captain had explained that they were a company ship rather than a national one.

“The scenery was lovely, and the food was nice, but the people never let me forget what an unwelcome mongrel I was. Made growing up in Rotterdam feel like paradise. Let’s just say I no longer wonder why my mother has no nostalgia for her country of origin.” Johannes grimaced.

“I see, is that why you’re heading back early?” Marten asked, “weren’t you supposed to stay in Japan for another three months?”

“Andries is staying in Japan for another three months. There’s been some,” the cook paused and bit his tongue, “political turmoil within Japan. The leadership wants to expel all outsiders. Andries and the other Dutch merchants playing nice in the Dejima are trying their hardest to speak reason into the Japanese but not everyone plays by the rules and my face would not have won me any favours had I stayed. My mission is complete. The ship is loaded with important cargo and information. If the VOC plays its cards correctly, they will have the means to attain the monopoly of Western trade in Japan that they have been promised.”

“Be careful Johannes, get too good at your job and your dear old brother-in-law will keep you on as a full-time employee,” the other captain warned.

“Aelbert fucking Van der Veer can do what he wants with his life. All I want to do is go back to Rotterdam, see my family, and eat a cheese sandwich.” Taigen had never heard Johannes say his brother in law’s name before.

“Oh right, suppose I should tell you but none of your family is in Rotterdam anymore. Cornelia is with child so Jan and Emiko moved in with her and Aelbert.”

“What about Agata and Jakob?” Taigen had heard the cook talk about his other brother-in-law before. He was a tailor while Agata was a dressmaker, and both bonded over a love of fashion despite Jakob being uninterested in women and Agata being uninterested in men.

“They’re in Amsterdam too, business is better.”

“So, my brother-in-law owns all of us.” It was more a question than a statement.

“Technically the VOC owns him and us as well. We’re all company men whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept our fate the less we have to struggle,” Marten argued.

“Thank you, Marten. I needed that reminder.” The cook sighed, dragging his feet down the dock.

“Wait, where are you going?” The captain asked.

“I am going, to get a fucking drink.” Taigen had never seen Johannes so upset. He followed the cook down the docks. He looked like he could use a friend.

Chapter 56: Taigen

Notes:

You know, it was almost exactly one year ago that I watched this show for the first time and it's lived in my head rent-free ever since. Never thought I'd write fic again either but this is nearly one year old!

Taigen was not naturally stealthy. The wood beneath his feet would not stop creaking as he walked to the shore. By the time he’d made his way off of the docks the cook had realized he was there. Normally Johannes would have had something clever to say, but this time he shrugged and told Taigen that he was going into town to get a drink. Taigen followed him; first across the beach and then down the road.

Cape Town was not a large city. Both the Dutch and Portuguese had fought over the territory according to Hideki, but it was only in the past 10 years that the Dutch had decided to set up an actual supply base rather than just a docking zone for passing ships. Where there was ships there tended to be alcohol. Even towns as small as Kohama had places to drink. Cape Town might not have been the well-organized city Batavia was, but there were streets and houses and businesses. After winding down several streets, Johannes walked into a bar, Taigen walking in behind him.

The bar was half-filled with people. Most of the patrons looked to be Dutch but still, a good portion looked to be from elsewhere speaking languages Taigen did not understand. He recognised a few sailors from the ship including Tohru and Hideki who were chatting in Japanese at a corner table. From what Taigen could tell, they were discussing the potential risks of encountering pirates and privateers in African waters. He would have to ask about it later. He’d known nothing about international trade and politics until he left Japan.

Johannes slumped over a table in the quiet section of the room. He ordered a bottle of jenever, took a shot, and stared at the wall. The server brought over a round loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese for the table. Taigen had never had either food before, had the cook not previously talked about what food they ate in the Netherlands Taigen would not have known what either were. He had a hunch the cheese was supposed to be cut into slices, but Johannes picked up the wedge with both hands and chomped down, biting through the orange waxy coating on the outside. They sat in silence as he ate his way through a third of the cheese.

“Sorry, I’m being very rude,” Johannes put the cheese back on the plate, slicing it in half with a knife and handing half of it to Taigen, “try some cheese. I bet you’ve never had cheese before. They don’t make it in Japan.”

“They don’t.” Taigen took a bite of the coating. It tasted of wax.

“Don’t eat the rind. It’s wax and not edible,” the cook pointed to the cheese as he sliced into the bread. It smelled like wheat and yeast. Along with cheese, Taigen had never had European style bread before.

“But you just ate the rind.”

“I did. But that’s because I’m miserable and hate my life right now. You won’t die but I would not recommend it. What I would recommend is slicing a bit of the cheese and trying it on the bread,” Johannes explained. He sliced some of his remaining cheese on the bread. Taigen did the same. The cheese was an unfamiliar taste, the texture resembled hardened tofu if it were firmer and fattier but not spongy in the way that tofu was. The taste was salty, rich, and somewhat sour. The bread was stranger in both taste and texture. The outside was tough and sharp. Taigen cut the inside of his mouth as he bit into it. The inside was soft and dense and spongy but spongy in a different way than tofu. It’s taste resembled hardtack. He wondered if bread was fresh hardtack similar to fresh and dried fish. Ringo would have the perfect description of both bread and cheese.

“Do you eat this a lot in the Dutch republic?” Taigen asked.

“All throughout Europe. You’ll be eating plenty of bread and cheese when you get to London.” Johannes poured both himself and Taigen another shot of jenever.

“I guess I’ll have to get used to it,” Taigen sighed. He didn’t love the bread or cheese, but he didn’t hate them either. If nothing else, the long trip to London had slowed down the inevitable culture shock he and Mizu would experience once they arrived.

“You’ll travel and get used to the place you are visiting. But you will always be a foreigner. They you will be on your way home only to find out that everything changed, and your home is no longer and there is no place for you in the world,” the cook laughed bitterly.

“Oh,” Taigen thought back to his life in Japan that he had left behind. His whole life had revolved around the dojo before Mizu had crossed his path. He thought about his sister and the rest of his family he could try to reconnect with. He’d left them when he was 12, what was another two years, “I can’t think of anyone who misses me in Japan.” Beyond his ego and his need for closure, Taigen followed Mizu because he had nowhere else to go. He took a shot of jenever.

“Good thing Mizu likes you then. When I get back to Amsterdam, I’ll be stuck living under my brother-in-law’s roof doing his bidding as though he owns me. Truth be told, it’s the Dutch East India Company that owns us all,” he grimaced.

“I’m guessing your mission was more than stewing hardtack then.” Taigen thought back to Johannes’s conversation on the docks.

“The VOC wants a monopoly on trade to Japan. Whispers from England told them otherwise. They needed someone to investigate. Someone who would not attract unnecessary attention.” Taigen’s eyes widened at the revelation.

“You were a spy.”

“A corporate investigator. With Fowler’s coup there are no more non-Dutch westerners in Japan. Though they still have trading relations. Mizu is going to be very popular with the VOC once we reach the Dutch Republic.” Johannes took another shot. They had drunk their way through more than half of the bottle.

“She has no idea. I had no idea.” Taigen wanted to be angry, but the alcohol had made him numb. He took another shot.

“I do worry about her, that she’ll get so caught up in her quest she won’t recognise herself as a pawn in a larger game. I know what it is to be used, I don’t recommend the experience,” the cook confessed. Taigen hadn’t even considered the possibility of anyone other than Fowler using Mizu for their political ends. Looking back, Taigen was starting to think he might not have lasted very long if he and Akemi had ended up getting married. Lord Tokunobu would have used him the same way Johannes’s brother-in-law seemed to be using him.

“Mizu will do what she wants to do, she’ll look right through the VOC, but she won’t see them.” Taigen thought back to Heiji Shindo’s doomed tea party. The only thing between them and being arrow fodder was Ringo’s quick thinking.

“You know her well. It’s good for both of you to have someone to share the journey with.” The cook poured himself more jenever.

“Johannes, what are we doing?” Taigen took another swig of alcohol. He was, without question, having the most confusing year of his life.

“Getting drunk.” He was not wrong. The bottle was nearly empty. They’d done enough damage for the evening.

“I think we’re drunk enough. Let’s get back to the ship. Can you walk?” Standing up he was somewhat dizzy but was not as drunk as he could have been.

“Hopefully. With any luck I won’t fall into the ocean.” The cook stood up; he appeared to be steady on his feet.

“If you do, I’ll throw a fish at you,” Taigen thought back to the last time he got drunk in Batavia.

“I’ll try not to barf on you. Let’s get out of here.” They paid the tab and walked back to the ship.

Chapter 57: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks again for reading!

She’d watched the sunrise from the beach. Ever since the ship docked in Cape Town the day before, Mizu had stayed on dry land. The first thing Mizu did upon arrival was to wander the woods and take a bath in the river. It was a habit of hers from back in Japan, evaluating the terrain around a town or city before entering it. If she had to run, as she often did, at least she would know what she was up against on her way out. Cape Town was still a young colony. The climate was temperate rather than tropical as it had been in Mauritius and Batavia. The forest had fewer plants than those jungles, more ferns than anything else. There were far fewer birds and insects chattering in the trees, though this could be due to the fact that it was winter here at the bottom of the world. There was no snow in the forest, just on the peak of the large flat mountain whose silhouette loomed in the shadow of the town. One day that town would likely be a city, and Mizu feared it would be at the cost of the surrounding forests and wetlands.

After two months without one, it was a great luxury to take a proper bath. The water had been cold, and her hair had taken ages to dry, but it was good to be clean again. Unlike in Batavia, Mizu hadn’t come across any crocodiles in the river. From there, she dressed herself back up and found her way into town. She’d bound her chest and dressed as a man for the occasion. While she wore the same clothes she’s worn for months, the details of her posture, silhouette, and small details about her manner of dress made the difference between Mizu being relaxed on the ship and her presenting herself as a man in the world. Mizu hadn’t decided if she would keep up the facade once she got to London. She hadn’t lived as a woman in quite some time. Perhaps it would not be so bad to try again.

Mizu’d spent a bit of time in town. By the time she’d gotten back there it was late in the afternoon and had begun to rain again. She’d sat in the back of a tavern, ordering the local bush tea instead of alcohol and eating a sort of spiced stew with Western bread. Mizu had never had bread before. It was sturdy and practical, easy to store and carry for travel. The taste was dry but not unpleasant but most importantly it was filling, much more appetizing than the hardtack from the ship. Mizu supposed that this was a common meal in both Amsterdam and London. She would adjust.

It was not until the sun set that the rain decided to let up. By then the streets were full of drunken sailors. While Mizu had initially walked back to the docks, she’d seen Taigen and Johannes, both clearly inebriated, stumbling towards the ship and decided to give them their space. Instead, the beach had been calling her, and she’d fallen asleep watching the stars, her travelling cloak wrapped around her for warmth. Technically it had been Mikio’s cloak, but he didn’t exactly need it anymore. Mizu rarely thought of him when she wore it.

She’d slept until right before the sun had started rising. The dark blues of the night being replaced by reds and yellows and finally the clear light blue of the morning sky. Mizu walked back over to the docks. From a distance she watched Taigen empty his nets for the day. He’d had a modest catch. Mizu could tell that he was stiff from his night of drinking, still he looked comfortable collecting fish. His body remembered the life it had been raised for. Mizu doubted he would have been the same man if he’d never left Kohama. He would not be the same man if he ever went back.

Mizu stretched and joined him on the docks. The beach had been just as comfortable as her bunk on the ship. Taigen was pulling up the last of his nets out of the water.

“Mizu!” Taigen jumped; she must have startled him, “where did you come from.”

“I slept on the beach.”

“I can tell; you’re covered in sand.” He put down his nets to shake some of the sand out of her cloak. She would have to get the rest out of her clothes later.

“I’ll try not to get it on the fish.” She helped Taigen with the nets and carried the fish back to the ship. There were buckets of water waiting, a set of knives, and baskets to drying fish set up on the deck of the ship. Mizu took of her cloak and rolled up her sleeves.

“So, you’ve really never done this before?”

“No.” Mizu shook her head.

“It’s pretty simple, “Taigen explained, “you scrape the scales off,” he passed the knife along the skin of the fish, “then you have to cut it in half and scoop the guts out into a bucket,” he split the fish in half, his knife crunching against its head. He scooped the guts out into one of the empty buckets. “Once you do that, you have to soak the fish in salt water for a while before letting it dry. It’s not hard to do, just boring and repetitive.”

“I see,” Mizu picked up a knife. Following Taigen’s instructions, she began to scrape the scales off of the fish. The knife felt familiar in her hands. It wasn’t until she sliced that first fish open that she noticed the maker’s mark. “I made this knife.”

“They’re good knives,” Taigen admitted as he worked through the pile of fish. Mizu still had some catching up to do, “How many did Master Eiji have you make?”

“One thousand before he let me make a sword. But I made more and sold them.”

“Are there any knives in Japan not made by you?” Mizu shrugged. She imagined every knife she ever made collected in a pile. A mountain of knives. Perhaps her knives had helped to feed half as many people as had died by her sword.

“Who taught you how to dry fish?” Mizu asked, gutting a fish. It was more tedious than challenging.

“My mother. Before I was old enough to go fishing with my father and brothers, I dried fish with her and my sisters.”

“How many siblings do you have?” Other than briefly mentioning his sister, Taigen rarely spoke about his siblings.

“Four. Two older brothers, an older sister, and a younger sister.”

“It must have been crowded.” The houses in Kohama were not that large. Larger than the hut she shared with mama, but the town was cramped together, as though it was trying to hold itself afloat. It was a small town with no space for her.

“We just wanted to get away from dad. My brothers, Jun and Shouta, started drinking when they were young, by the time I left they were already married. I could see them turning into him. My older sister, Rina married young to a silk merchant from out of town. I went to Kyoto. Kaguya was left alone with mom. She’s still mad at me about it,” Taigen frowned. The arrogant swordsman Mizu had met back in Kyoto would not have shared this with her.

“What happened to your mother?” Mizu assumed the poor woman was long dead. As far as she knew, Mizu had never met Taigen’s mother as a child, just him and his bratty friends.

“She’s still in Kohama. Kaguya’s taking care of her. I went to see her on my way to look for you. She doesn’t talk anymore. She didn’t recognise me.” He scraped the scales off of yet another fish. They’d gotten into a rhythm with the fish preparation, “what about the woman who raised you? She wasn’t your mother but where did she come from?” Taigen asked, changing the subject.

Mizu thought back to mama. She knew mama had been her mother’s maid, supported herself through sex work, and lived for her opium pipe. Mama had kept her hidden and arranged her marriage to the husband who would end up killing her. She had taught her very little about the world. Mizu knew very little about the woman.

“Mama…the woman who raised me…I never even knew her name.” A harsh realization. Mama had never told her anything about herself and Mizu had never asked. Now it was likely that she would never know.

Chapter 58: Taigen

Notes:

There's animal death in this chapter so trigger warning I guess if that bugs you?

“Do you think they have seagulls in London?” Taigen fumbled with the nets he had put over the drying fish. Once again, a flock of seagulls circled the ship. From Kohama, to Mauritius, to Cape Town, anywhere there was fish there were scavenging sea birds. Taigen was running out of patience with them. The hangover he’d earned from yesterday’s bottle of jenever loomed over him like a vengeful ghost. He wanted to sit in the dark and close his eyes.

“I think so. Fowler told me a story of hunting and eating them during the famine in Ireland.” Mizu made her way up to the deck of the ship, carrying a gun and the means to fire it. He’d spent the morning showing her how to dry fish, now it was her turn to show him how to fire a gun. The first time Taigen had seen a gun was in Fowler’s castle. He’d thought of it a filthy foreign weapon. Now it was a filthy foreign weapon he needed to learn how to use.

“I’ve always hated them. The birds used to poop on my dad’s boat when he was fishing. My brothers always bullied me into cleaning up the mess.” Afterwards, he often took his frustration out on Mizu, throwing rocks at her with his friends. He did not need to remind her of that.

“Then shooting them shouldn’t be a problem.” Mizu shrugged, inspecting the little round balls and black powder to be used as ammunition. Months ago, when she was first learning to use a gun, it had bothered her to shoot a bird. Since then, she’d shot several. Taigen suspected that whatever gulls they managed to shoot would find their way into their evening meal.

“So, how do I shoot this thing?” Taigen looked down at the gun. He’d seen the damage Fowler’s guns had done in the shogun’s palace but up close it seemed like an inconvenient weapon. A sword was easier. No additional moving parts.

“Point the trigger, aim, and shoot. But you’ll need to load it each time you plan on using it,” Mizu explained.

“Like a bow and arrow.” Archery was not a skill they taught at the Shindo dojo. Most of Taigen’s experience with archery came from running from Heiji Shindo’s archers. He doubted that shooting a gun would come naturally to him.

“Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that. But it is similar.” Mizu blinked.

“Have you ever shot a bow and arrow Mizu?” Considering how little he still knew about Mizu’s life; it wouldn’t come as a surprise to Taigen if she’d taken up archery at some point.

“I haven’t, have you?”

“I never even thought about it.” Aside from Heiji Shindo’s archers, the only time Taigen had thought about archery was in listening to gossip about the shogun’s second son, now Akemi’s husband who was allegedly skilled with a bow. He would likely be a good shot. “So,” he looked down at the gun, “how do you load this thing?”

“Carefully.” Mizu poured a small amount of the black powder into the long end of the gun. “This is gunpowder, you put a small amount into the barrel of the gun.”

“That’s the long part?”

“It is. Once the gunpowder is in you add a lead ball and push it in with the ramrod.” Mizu placed the ball inside the gun, pushing it in with the long stick she called a ramrod. She held it in one hand with the other one wrapped around the barrel of the gun. She really did have such elegant fingers, though Taigen preferred to see them wrapped around other things. If he had any less of a hangover he might have suggested other activities for the evening.

“Is that it? Then you shoot?”

“Almost. Right at the top of the gun there’s a lever. You pour a bit of gunpowder in and close it again,” Mizu explained. Taigen heard the gun click as she closed it back up, “now you open the lever at the top, then point and shoot. Fowler told me not to load a gun until you know you’re going to shoot it.” Loading a gun had too many steps. Taigen hadn’t even fired the weapon, and he was already sick of it. He felt better with a sword in his hand. But London was a land of guns and if Mizu could learn her way around them then so could he.

“Are you sure he’s not just saying that to waste your time?” Taigen asked. It seemed as though it would be easier to have a gun ready before shooting it. Arrows had to be aimed into position, but a gun didn’t need the same amount of strength or dexterity as a bow and arrow.

“No. Gunpowder is too flammable. Fowler wants to make it to London as much as we do, if the boat catches fire and we can’t put it out we either burn or we drown.” It hadn’t occurred to Taigen that gunpowder was flammable. He hadn’t concerned himself with the idea of the ship catching fire, but it had become one more thing to keep him up at night.

“Good point.” Mizu handed Taigen the gun. He wasn’t quite ready to use it. “Can you show me?” Mizu nodded.

“I’ll shoot first, then you load, point and shoot,” she instructed him as she took the gun back.

“Alright.” Mizu aimed the gun, her eyes focused on the circling birds. Unable to get to the drying fish, the seagulls had done little more than lurk and poop. Once again Taigen would find himself cleaning the deck of a ship, though this time without the threat of his father’s rage. Cautiously, Mizu pulled back the top lever of the gun and took a deep breath. She was so beautiful when she focused, the world falling away around her as she was alone with whatever goal she was trying to achieve. Mizu probably barely noticed Taigen watching her. Finger on the trigger, she steadied her gun and shot a bird. The seagull let out one last squawk as it fell to the deck, feathers floating around it. Half of the birds flew off, but the others stayed behind, waiting for a chance to get to the drying fish. “Your turn.” Mizu placed the gun back in his hands.

“Gunpowder first, then the lead ball, right?” Taigen asked. It felt like a stupid question, but it was better to look like an idiot than to set himself on fire.

“Exactly,” Mizu nodded. Taigen followed her instructions exactly. He started by pouring gunpowder down the barrel, placed the lead ball, securing it with the ramrod. From there he clicked the lever, added his gunpowder and sealed it up again. The gun was ready to shoot. No more excuses. Taigen pointed the gun at a circling gull. His hands were in place. He was about to check his aim, but his finger slipped, pulling the trigger before he was ready for it. Taigen felt the force of the gun as he shot it, nearly losing his balance. The lead ball flew through the air, hitting the bird in the wing. The bird tried to fly away but fell right into the ocean. It gave one last splash before it was gone forever.

“I could use some practice.” Taigen admitted. There was no honour in shooting a gun, but honour was nothing to corpse and it was worth the trouble if learning to shoot well meant him and Mizu surviving London. Still, he would benefit by maintaining his sword skills. Perhaps Mizu could be talked into a friendly spar in a day or so once Taigen’s hangover subsided.

Chapter 59: Fowler

Notes:

I still can't believe I've been writing this fic for about a year. If you're still reading this, thanks for sticking with me. Extra thanks to those of you who comment. I aspire to finish this fic before season 2 comes out.

Fowler was starting to regret teaching Mizu how to shoot a gun. When he’d first brought up the concept early on in the voyage, the purpose had been to destabilize Mizu’s sense of self while reminding her of the weapon she was. If the woman who had devoted her life to swordsmanship had a gun in front of her, who was she once she held it in her hand? A killer, the weapon didn’t matter, just her ability to kill. Mizu was an excellent student, and Fowler had hedged his bets on her being overcome by despair. In her rage and sadness, Mizu was more malleable. It was her guilt that Fowler took advantage of to bring her on this journey in the first place. As a Catholic, Fowler was an expert on guilt. It was his church’s weapon of choice after all: make everyone feel as though they had done something wrong, and they’ll never question your authority. In that sense, he’d learned from the best.

Mizu mainly used sea birds for target practice. Based on the tough and mangy meat lumps he occasionally got in his stew, it was safe to say she was a decent shot if not better with all the practice she’s gotten. If they made it to London, Fowler hoped he might get to see her with a gun in hand, betraying her culture for her desire for revenge. Mizu had started off the trip a miserable woman who took no joy in anything, not even killing. Fowler wondered who her first kill had been. She’d killed old Violet, but he doubted that he was the first man she’d killed. Fowler doubted Mizu would ever tell him this. Oh well, it was good to have something to think about. Locked up in a box for months, Fowler had plenty of time to think.

The boat was docked again. No one would tell Fowler the specifics, but he assumed they were somewhere in Africa. Heiji Shindo had mumbled something about the Dutch setting up a colony in the Cape of Good Hope in the Southern tip of the continent. From his cage in the cargo hold, Fowler heard the sailors on the docks. Most of them were Dutch, some spoke African dialects he was unfamiliar with. Even if he could escape the ship, Fowler would be unable to communicate with anyone due to the language barrier. By finding a Dutch ship to stuff him into, Mizu had either been very clever or very lucky. Knowing what he did about Mizu, his guess would have been the latter. He doubted she knew anything about the Dutch East India Company or their business practices. If she had been aware of them, she would know that the cargo holds of their ship were fuller than this one and how unusual it was to have a crew that was fully Japanese. Fowler hadn’t met a single Dutch person aboard the ship, the closest he’d met was the cook who was an even more pitiful mongrel than Mizu.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.” Fowler grumbled as Mizu slid him a dinner tray. Yesterday he hadn’t gotten dinner, so it was a relief for that to not turn into a pattern.

“Guess I’m not that lucky,” Mizu shrugged, leaning nonchalantly against a crate as Fowler shoveled down his stew. It was mostly seagull with salt pork gravy. He chewed through the lumps of meat; they were tough and gristly, the taste resembling oily rancid fish. It appeared that Mizu’s marksmanship was improving. Earlier in the day he’d heard a lot of shooting from the deck of the ship, she’d been up there with the stowaway. Perhaps she had been teaching him to shoot. It was only sensible for Mizu to make a hunting dog out of her pet.

“Based on the quantity of seagull lumps in this gruel you’ll be a good shot by the time we get to London.” It was good to compliment Mizu from time to time. She didn’t take compliments well and the power to make her uncomfortable was one of the few things Fowler had going for him.

“I’m make do.” She watched him blankly as he ate. Today Mizu had gone back to presenting herself as a man. Fowler could see that she had bound her chest, tied her hair into a topknot, and wore a scarf around her neck. It was different this time. Mizu’s eyes were less angry and there was less tension in her shoulders than she’d had in Japan. Her desire for vengeance appeared to be watered down, smoothed over like a pebble that had been in a riverbed for too long. There was a serenity in her face that reminded Fowler of her mother.

“It was a clever thing you did, locking me up on a Dutch merchant ship rather than one of mine. Though I do suppose you’re taking a risk. You’re at the mercy of the Dutch East India Company rather than being at mine.” Fowler took one last gulp of the stew. It was wretched but it was food. He needed his strength if he was going to make it to London, especially since they would most likely end up taking a lengthy detour in the Dutch Republic.

“I’ve taken greater risks.” Perhaps to Mizu there was no difference between slicing through assassins and navigating complex economic institutions. Were this the case she was going to be in for a rude awakening once they reached Europe.

“I know love, I’ve seen it. The city of Edo burned for it.” Fowler took a gulp of his tea. Lunch was almost over. Almost. He’d come to one last realization to throw Mizu off-balance if she hadn’t had it first.

“I’m aware.”

“Are you now? Well then, I have a question you might not be able to answer.” Fowler smiled as though he were a cat about to pounce. Mizu stared blankly; he took the last swig of his tea. “If we’re on a Dutch merchant vessel, fresh out of the Dejima most likely headed to the VOC headquarters over in Amsterdam, then we are a trade ship are we not?”

“They were in a rush to leave; they feared the Japanese might close the border after your coup.” Mizu frowned and crossed her arms.

“This ship, and whatever happens to be on it might have been in a rush to leave Japan, but I do have to ask: if we’re on a Dutch merchant ship, where are all the Dutch merchants? I don’t think you have a single one onboard.” Mizu’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Unless, of course, this ship has another purpose. But you don’t know what that is do you?”

“It sounds like you have an idea.” Fowler had no idea why the merchants had stayed behind at the Dejima or what this ship had on it that needed to be rushed out of Japan. He knew as little as Mizu did, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, you think I would tell you?” Fowler slid his lunch tray out of the cage, “I could of course, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched Mizu bite her lip as she took the tray back up to the kitchen. Finally, he had some of his power back.

Notes:

I told my friend about it and she called it the "Lord of the Rings of boat rides" which is not entirely inaccurate. Whoops.

Chapter 60: Mizu

Notes:

Another week, another chapter! Special thanks to those of you who comment regularly, I don't say it enough but I look forward to seeing your names in my inbox. Hope you enjoy.

It had taken Mizu ages to get all the dust out of her father’s sword. She had picked it out with her fingernails and polished it with a cloth. The sword looked as good as it was going to look despite it being poorly forged and assembled. Mizu wondered if her father had killed anyone with it. If so, she doubted he enjoyed it, if Mizu’s desire for vengeance had been inherited, she had not inherited it from her father. The man had about as much bloodlust as Ringo.

Still, the sword would serve her purpose. Since the ship would be docked for another day, her and Taigen would finally get a chance to spar properly. Johannes had lent him one of the swords in the cargo hold that he had acquired at his brother-in-law’s request. The sword looked elegant but was clearly designed for decoration rather than any serious battle. It was only fair for them to both have mediocre swords to spar with. If they had decent steel in London, it might be worth her while to make them better ones.

“I think we’re far enough away from the docks.” Taigen stopped in his tracks and looked out at the beach. They could still see the boats in the distance as well as the town.

“It’s been a while since I fought on a beach.” Mizu felt the sand beneath her shoes. It was smooth rather than rocky as some parts of the shoreline were.

“Fowler’s assassins,” Taigen reminded her, “I was there.”

“You could have killed me.” Mizu thought back to her cliffside fight with the four fangs that brought her down to the beach back in the winter. Blood-soaked Chiaki’s broken blade had been melted down and forged into her own steel.

“I’m glad I didn’t, I’d rather us be here now.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. They held none of the malice they did after he’d chased her down for a rematch after their fight in Kyoto.

“Here’s as good a place as any.” Mizu stretched, unsheathing the sword. It still didn’t feel right to call the sword hers.

“Time to find out if we’ve gotten rusty being on that boat for so long,” Taigen unsheathed his own sword. It was not the sort of sword to have a soul in it, but it was, none the less, a sword.

“I guess so.” Mizu smirked. She wrapped her hands around the sword, waiting. Taigen would make the first move. He was predictable in that way.

He charged towards her; she blocked his sword. He tried to push her forwards, but she held her ground. So did he. From there on it was back and forth. Mizu looked around. There were no obstacles on the beach. It was all flat sand. In one direction was the bushes and the other the ocean. The terrain offered no obvious advantages. No trees to climb nor hills to tumble down. It had rained at night, but it had been clear all day and the sand was dry. Dry sand saw lighter than wet sand. A softer landing but she could not alter her footing as easily. Taigen learned to fight in a dojo and likely never thought about these things. This was her advantage.

Mizu took a step back. Taigen would swing his sword and expect her to block it. This time she ducked, sliding herself under and back up as he tripped over her feet. The sand would break his fall.

“You’re not rusty at all.” He fell into the sand, spitting out clumps of it from his mouth before getting back to his feet.

“You’re up quick,” Mizu noted, blocking Taigen’s sword from hitting her in the face. A heavier sword would fit better in his hand than the ornamental one. He needed something less flashy, honest, steady steel would suit him best.

“I am,” they traded several more blows, “you’re quiet today.”

“The sword speaks for itself.” It was not entirely true. Mizu found her father’s sword to have nothing to say. It was a tool and nothing more. But only a poor craftsman would blame his tools, and Mizu knew her way around a sword, regardless of its quality.

“You’re starting to sound like Master Eiji.” Taigen swung his sword at her from above, knocking her over. He’d finally recognised that he could use his size to his advantage. Falling into the sand, she could feel the rough texture cling to the sweat on her skin. She leapt back up to meet his blade. Shaking the sand from her clothes she regained her footing.

“Not blood-soaked Chiaki?” Her sword pushed into his. Taigen might have had size to his advantage, but Mizu had agility. She leaned over to catch the edge of his sword, catching him off balance. He caught himself before he tumbled back into the sand.

“Pretty sure he’s been defanged.” Taigen smiled. Mizu couldn’t help but laugh. It had been a long time since she’d laughed during a fight.

“He told me I was of weak stock.” Mizu thought back to his insults. In retrospect she recognised how stupid he must have looked as a grown man kicking around a 12-year-old he barely knew. Master Eiji had never liked the man.

“No one’s calling you that anymore.” Until the past few months Taigen and blood-soaked Chiaki had the same opinion of her.

“Not even you.”

“If I did, I’d be missing out.” The fight continued, back and forth as though it were a dance. They’d found their rhythm. Revenge had barely crossed Mizu’s mind. She’d always been so angry, she feared that without her anger she would have no ability to focus in a fight. So far, her instincts had been proven wrong. She didn’t need to focus on her rage. She only needed to focus on her sword. Mizu still had her quest, but it was not all she was. Master Eiji had been right all along.

And so, the fight went on, back and forth on the beach until Taigen lunged, knocking them both to the ground. Mizu took advantage of the situation, landing on top of him and knocking the sword out of his hand. She could smell his breath; it still stank of the dreadful seagull stew they had for lunch.

“My round,” she announced her victory. Mizu was initially proud of herself. At least she was until she looked into his eyes, she could tell Taigen had something on his mind, something unknown to her. She thought about kissing him. It hadn’t worked out well with Mikio and she hesitated to try it again. Now that Taigen had seen her as a woman, would he see her as a monster now that she had a sword back in her hand? A smile crossed his face.

“Guess I’ll have to find another way to disarm you.” He reached out to kiss her, his hands tearing at her clothes. Taigen was not Mikio. In between kisses Mizu breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter 61: Taigen

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

For all his suspicions that Mizu used masculinity as a barrier to protect herself from the world, Taigen had never actually watched her put herself together as a man before. Sure, they’d had sex before and he’d seen her in various states of dress and undress, but that was on the ship where she’d been more relaxed and further away from the world.

They’d fucked after sparring on the beach. In both cases Mizu had taken his full attention. He’d thought about her in this way since recovering in Master Eiji’s forge. Taigen had been cruel to her then, and it had taken her a while to warm up to him. He deserved that. Earning her trust had been worth the effort. They were both stronger for it.

Taigen had already put his clothes back on as he watched Mizu dress. She put her underclothes and pants back on, this he had seen before. Next, she bound her chest with bandages. She bit her lip as she pulled them tightly around her ribs. Despite not having a large bust, it took a fair bit of effort to flatten her chest completely. No wonder she slouched and made a point to wear baggy clothes in public.

“How do you fight like that? It looks painful,” Taigen asked as Mizu tied her belt over her yukata. Even without her weights, constricting her chest had to restrict her movements in some way or other.

“I’m used to it.” Mizu shrugged, not denying the pain. She tied a scarf around her neck. Taigen smiled, noticing that it was the scarf he’d gotten her in Batavia.

“Have you decided who you’re going to be in London?” Taigen wondered if Mizu would continue to live as a man in London, live as a woman, or some combination of both as it suited her needs.

“We’re not in London yet.” Mizu tied her hair up into a topknot. It had grown quite a bit over the past few months. By the time she pinned her bangs up she looked nearly identical to how she did back in Japan. Taigen knew the difference; he knew her now.

“We’re halfway there.” They’d been at sea for three and a half months. They had at least three more until they reached the Dutch Republic and eventually England. Mizu tied up her cloak and put on her sunhat. She sat back down to watch the waves lap onto the beach. Sitting by the ocean was one of the few things that seemed to bring her peace.

“I sparred with my husband once. It did not go well.” Mizu confessed, still looking out at the water. Taigen sat down beside her.

“If you gave him a bald spot I might take his side.” Taigen attempted to lighten the mood. He assumed that Mizu’s swordsmanship was better than her husband’s had been. She and Taigen were pretty evenly matched in a fight, and Taigen refused to believe that her husband was better with a sword than he was.

“No, I only ever did that to you,” she shook her head, “we only sparred once, and it was his idea.”

“You don’t talk much about your marriage.” Taigen knew very little about Mizu’s husband other than how poorly the marriage had ended.

“What’s there to say?”

“Plenty. Were you ever happy? How did you even meet?” He had so many questions. Mizu took a deep breath.

“The woman I thought was my mother arranged the marriage. Apparently, he, Mikio, was looking for a strong, young wife to help with the horses. He had money but couldn’t afford to be picky about my looks.” Mizu had never told him her husband’s name before.

“He’s the one who said you weren’t as hideous as he expected.”

“His first words to me. He didn’t force himself on me, I was grateful for that. I think he mostly wanted help with chores around the farm. He raised horses.” There was a sadness in her voice.

“Did he want a wife or just a servant he didn’t have to pay?” Taigen wondered if his own parents had ever liked each other.

“Is there a difference?” Mizu raised an eyebrow, “anyways, it took a while, but I got used to the farm. I liked the horses and Mikio and I got to know each other. I let him think he taught me how to throw knives. I think we were married about six months.”

“When did the spar happen?” Taigen pictured Mizu dressed as a woman with her blue sword and a smirk on her face as he often had in his dreams.

“Near the end of it.” Mizu frowned.

“Is that how you killed him?”

“No,” she blinked, holding back tears, Taigen put his arm around her, “we’d gotten close. He offered me my favourite of the horses we were training. We got…intimate. I opened up about my quest. He told me he wanted to see what I could do with a sword. I showed him. He called me a monster, sold all the horses and sent men to collect the bounty on my head. He strangled the woman I thought was my mother. I killed him with a knife.” Mizu stared blankly at the waves.

“After that, the quest was all you had,” Taigen realized. No wonder she had been so committed to her revenge. Mizu nodded silently, “good thing you met Ringo and Akemi. Most of all, I’m glad we crossed paths again. I think you saved me from myself.” Mizu smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. It had been tousled by the wind. Over the past few months Taigen had learned that he liked the feeling of the wind in his hair. Before Mizu had mangled it, he’d always worn his hair up but now that he was no longer able to, he’d gotten to feel the wind blow through it. Perhaps once his hair finally did grow out again, he would wear it down more often.

“I guess my life means something.”

“It means a lot to me, I hope it means something to – is that a donkey?” Taigen jumped up, hand on his sword. Mizu was not far behind him. They’d both thought they were alone until they heard the braying noises. He looked for the donkey and the whoever was with it, but there was no one. There was more braying, something else had to be making the noise.

“It’s the birds,” Mizu pointed to the little black and white birds waddling on the beach. They had webbed feet and shiny feathers and wings that looked more like flippers than what one would expect from a bird. Sure enough, one of them brayed. It was uncanny how similar they sounded to donkeys.

“Johannes told me about these birds. They’re called penguins. The live on the coast of the Cape of Good Hope and they swim rather than fly.” Taigen looked down at the birds. Had he not followed Mizu out of Japan he would never have known they existed, let alone seen them.

“The dodos from Mauritius can’t fly either. But they can’t swim. Can the penguins hunt?”

“Apparently they eat fish.” A few of the birds waddled into the water. While awkward on land, their flippers powered them through the waves.

“These birds, they can’t fly but they’re not doomed. They’ve adapted,” Mizu noted. She sat back down, happy to watch the birds.

“They don’t look like any bird I’ve ever seen, but they’re charming in their own way. They look like they’re doing alright.” Taigen couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at the penguins. They were unusual creatures but watching them leap in and out of the waves was the perfect way to spend their last afternoon before heading back out to sea.

Chapter 62: Akemi

Notes:

This one's a bit of a longer chapter and a bit of a different chapter.

Akemi knew how to be charming. As a girl, Seki had taught her to know how to listen, how to speak, and what to say in order to make other people listen. According to him, this was how she could get what she wanted in the world. He’d taught her strategy and let her discover poetry on her own terms. Her own father treated her as though she were a pig to fatten up and sell at auction. In some ways, Akemi supposed she had learned from this too. That she was valuable in the way a piece of jewellery was: a beautiful object to be worn only to display the wealth of its owner. This, Akemi could not control. What she did have was influence: her brother was young, her father was vulnerable, and her husband genuinely appeared to respect her opinion. What Seki could not teach her, Madam Kaji had, what even she could not teach her, Akemi made a point to teach herself.

Her charms had gotten her far in Edo. The right words in the right place at the right time were her weapon, she wielded them as a samurai might their katana. With some effort, she’d gotten most of the palace staff to like her. She’d bonded with the shogun, now her brother-in-law and his wife as well as many of the other noble women of the capital, helping them figure out how to rebuild their lives after the city had burned to rubble. Being new to the city, Akemi did not have the same connection to the place as her peers, giving her the objectivity to make decisions about its future.

Takayoshi needed some guidance of course, but mostly he’d just wanted someone to listen to him. His stutter made him unsteady, so he thought before he spoke. Akemi deduced that he genuinely wanted companionship and to be valued beyond being the spare son of the previous shogun. He was so different from Taigen, or at least the version of him she’d known a lifetime ago in Kyoto. Akemi couldn’t help but think of him at times. Politics would have made him miserable; he was not cut out for royalty whereas Akemi found both purpose and pleasure in intrigue and influence. By their last meeting he had realized this, and now Taigen was on a boat somewhere an ocean away. If nothing else, he’d achieved his goal of escaping his hometown.

Akemi’s mind had been wandering. She blamed the heat, just as she did for the recent bouts of nausea she’d been waking up to for the past few weeks. Neither she nor Takayoshi had been up to much poetry at night, neither of them could get a word in. The cicadas were so loud that it was impossible to get any sleep. Even with all the luxury of the capital it was still a brutal summer. Akemi rubbed her eyes, waiting for Riko the maid to bring her ginger tea before she did her makeup for the day.

She’d done her hair and dressed of course. Akemi had chosen a blue kimono in hopes that looking at the colour might cool her down. It was a colour she rarely wore, favouring pinks and reds and purples, but the embroidered birds were lovely, and it was a nice light silk. The colour made her think of a certain swordsman with angry blue eyes and a sword that had cut through hundreds of ruthless men. It was only a few months ago that Mizu had upended her entire life. Akemi thought only some special sort of demon was capable of such a thing but Mizu, Mizu was just angry. She’d rescued her and sent her back to her family before rescuing her from her father once and for all.

Mizu had always been an enigma to Akemi, at least until Ringo had read out her letter. Her letter. Mizu had presented herself as a man looking to kill her white father. She was not a man, and her father was not who she’d thought she was. The woman was adrift in every sense of the word, her quest and sense of identity ripped away as she sailed to London with one of the white men she was sworn to kill. Akemi was curious what would become of Mizu if she survived her quest.

The sound of the screen door of her room sliding open pulled Akemi out of her thoughts. She had hoped it was the maid. She liked Riko, the girl was a chatterbox, especially when it came to ceramics. She always gave Akemi an earful whenever she had the opportunity, Akemi did not even think it was possible to have so many opinions on teapot design and material as the maid had. Still, she was a sweet girl and made good tea, so it was impossible to be annoyed with her for too long. Akemi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, riding a wave of nausea and trying to let it pass. She did not smell tea. She had another guest. Her mother-in-law stood in the doorway, staring down at her.

Lady Itoh was probably the only person in the castle Akemi had not managed to endear herself to. No amount of flattery, favours, or thoughtful gifts could win her affection. The woman studied her with her cold black eyes. Akemi always felt as though she was being tested in her presence. Now she felt as though her space had been invaded, Akemi hadn’t even done her makeup yet. She felt vulnerable, her features bare, not yet painted in convention and courtesy.

“Good morning, lady Itoh,” Akemi smiled politely, trying to ignore her upset stomach.

“Good morning,” her face was as expressionless as ever. Akemi was grateful that Takayoshi had not inherited his personality from his mother, “you’ve been quiet these days. I thought I should see how you were doing.” Her suspicion was masked in politeness. Behind her were footsteps and the door slamming open.

“Tea? Oh, hello lady Itoh, I wasn’t expecting you. Would you like any? I can make more anytime” Riko smiled nervously as she set down the teapot, pouring Akemi a cup. Lady Itoh watched them silently until the servant practically ran out of the room. Akemi took a sip of her tea.

“Ginger tea, you must have an upset stomach,” she observed, Akemi nodded.

“Just for the past few weeks.” Akemi admitted

“You haven’t bled this month, have you?”

“Not yet,” Akemi took another sip of tea. The ghost of a smile crossed her mother-in-law’s face.

“I’ll have to send the court physician to take a look at you. Perhaps congratulations are in order if you are as fertile as your father boasted.” Akemi had always hated the way her father had tried to sell her off to potential suitors as though she were a broodmare. Could she be with child? Akemi had never thought of herself as a mother. Having children was something she knew would eventually be expected of her, but it was not something she either feared or hoped for.

“If I am to be a mother, I look forward to your wisdom on raising children. My own mother died when I was young, and I could benefit from your wisdom.” The closest thing Akemi knew to a mother was Seki. Perhaps her mother-in-law would love her grandchild enough to accept her.

“Hmmm,” lady Itoh adjusted some flowers in a vase, “the capital could benefit from some new life, especially after the fire.”

“You must miss your husband dearly,” there was grief in lady Itoh’s eyes, she tried to hide it, but Akemi was observant.

“He should never have let those white devils into the country,” she snapped the stem of the flower in her hand, “this coup is yet another insult.”

“Another insult?” Akemi asked. Had they tried to overthrow the shogun before?

“Just their presence in our land is an insult. If it were up to me, I would close up the Dejima. The Dutch take up too much space, but they at least have the decency not to pollute our land the way these foreigners do. My husband allowed four white devils to live on Japanese soil so long as they were out of sight. One of them even had the audacity to bring his wife. That witch even seduced one of the palace guards and gave birth to a demon.”

“A demon?” Something about lady Itoh’s story sounded familiar.

“A horrifying creature, I saw it once with my own eyes. It took the form of a baby girl, but it couldn’t hide its eyes, blue as an onryo.” Mizu, she was talking about Mizu.

“What happened to the child?”

“Don’t call it a child, that thing was never human. We tried to burn her as a baby, but she disappeared, since then whispers of a blue-eyed girl. A few years ago, we heard stories about an onryo in the mountains, but no one has seen her. Perhaps a demon truly can shed their skin like a snake.” Akemi took a sip of her tea. Mizu had been honest in her letter. After being so hated since she was born, it was no wonder Mizu was as angry as she was. “My son told me you met an onryo once.”

“Only briefly and only in passing. It was a truly terrifying creature with empty eyes capable of nothing but hatred and destruction,” Akemi frowned, “I never hope to see one again.” She was being unfair to Mizu, but what Mizu did not know would not kill her.

“No, no more foreigners in our lands, they cost my husband his life, my sons and grandchildren will not suffer the same fate,” Lady Itoh shook her head before leaving, “I will personally call on the physician to come look at you later today.” Akemi bowed politely as her mother-in-law left her to her own devices.

The tea was cold, and Akemi was alone again. She turned to put her makeup on. In the past she would have agreed with her mother-in-law’s assessment of Mizu but now it just seemed cruel. From what she’d met of Mizu, the woman was a menace, but a human. Akemi had judged her to be stubborn and selfish, but so often she had been described with the very same words. Painting on her eyebrows, she wondered if there was really that much of a difference between dressing up as a lady or dressing up as a swordsman. Both were costumes. Both required their own set of skills.

Through her travels, Akemi had become painfully aware that she was a product of the life she was born into whether she wanted it or not. She was no more or less worthy than anyone else, just privileged, just clever, just finding her way in the world. Perhaps Mizu’s trip to London would help her find her way in the world. Perhaps Taigen would find purpose in following her. Akemi hoped they would survive, though it might take some convincing if her mother-in-law would ever accept them back in the country. Other than a handful of sailors, no one left Japan. There was more to the world than she would ever know. Foreigners were locked out of Japan, while they were locked in.

Chapter 63: Mizu

Notes:

Aaaaand we're back at sea!

A week back at sea and Mizu had effortlessly settled back into her usual routine aboard the ship. Mornings were for training and cleaning up around the ship. Lunch was either spent being taunted by Fowler and improving her English or working on her marksmanship. She’d left a few guns and ammunition hidden on the deck of the ship, easy enough for her to reach but hidden enough to prevent any accidents. Afternoons consisted of laundry or mending sails and clothing. Dinners were spent with Taigen and the crew, and she spent her evenings helping Johannes with the dishes. Sometimes she would get a quiet moment with Taigen, sometimes Ryo would want to talk to her, and sometimes she would get some time to herself. This night had provided her with the latter. Mizu had taken the chance to sit up on the deck of the ship and watch the stars. The wind in the sails and the waves crashing against the boat were the only sounds between Mizu and her thoughts.

The last time Mizu had kept a steady routine was when she was married to Mikio, and before that at Swordfather’s forge. Her revenge quest had kept her moving. No routine. No rest. She could only go forward with her quest.

Mizu had always thought it best for herself to leave everything behind in order to achieve her revenge. Swordfather had always been regimented, content with his quiet life of making swords. Were she not so intent on avenging her existence, Mizu would have been content with such a life as well. She had been happy on Mikio’s farm until he had betrayed her and killed any lingering dreams she’d had of a normal life. Here on the ship was the closest thing she’d had to a normal life in years.

If the winds were good, they’d reach Goree in just under two months, then they would dock in Amsterdam before finally heading to London. Once they reached London Mizu’s peace would end and her quest for revenge would resume. Revenge. Revenge had once been Mizu’s only goal in life. The only purpose of her existence was to punish those responsible for cursing her with it. Now revenge itself felt like a curse. Were it not for the bounty on her head she would have stayed in Batavia to get to know her father better before catching another boat back to Japan. She tried not to think of home, whatever nebulous concept that might be for her. She always thought back to master Eiji.

“You know, it’s about time we had a clear night.” Mizu heard a voice behind her. She turned around to see Hideki and Daisuke walk up to the deck of the ship.

“Makes my job easier, that’s for sure,” Hideki laughed, “not that we’ve had much trouble with this trip. At least not since leaving Nagasaki.”

“I’m more worried about getting back into Japan. I guess we’ll find out if the new shogun changes his mind about the VOC, especially with our dear cook breaking the rules and sneaking into the country.” Daisuke frowned.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them, and I don’t think Johannes wants to go back to Japan anytime soon.”

“Emiko sure didn’t. I’m half surprised she even taught her kids the language. I don’t know about her girls, but Johannes doesn’t even have an accent.”

“Think we’ll see her when we get to Amsterdam?” Hideki wondered.

“We’ll have to. She won’t believe we actually found Kaito’s girl.” Daisuke looked around, almost jumping when he noticed she was also standing on the deck of the ship, “Mizu, we were just talking about you.” He waved at her to join their conversation.

“So, Johannes’s mother knew my dad?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“She did, they lived two streets apart growing up. He had a crush on her and she thought he was an idiot. She thought having an affair with a foreigner’s wife was terrible idea.” Hideki explained.

“I don’t think Emiko was wrong. No offense to your dad, but your parents put you in so much danger. They didn’t even think about it. I went to see them in the capital once, I saw you as a baby,” Daisuke looked up at her sadly.

“I wish I could remember.” Mizu’s earliest memories were of mama and their hut at the edge of the woods in Kohama.

“You would have been too young. You were a memorable baby.”

“Because of my eyes?” Even as a baby she hadn’t been able to hide herself completely from the world.

“Yes, that, but mostly because you were so quiet. You barely cried. Ryo was a crier, so was his sister Rin but you only cried once and that was when I got into an argument with your dad. You hated conflict even then,” Daisuke reminisced.

“I hated conflict?” Mizu blinked in disbelief. Other than Taigen and Fowler, no one else aboard this ship had seen her kill anyone. She’d easily killed hundred. Mizu thought back to boss Hamata’s thousand claw army that she had sliced through. In many ways she had lived up to her reputation as a demon swordsman. She’d fought more battles that she could remember, Ringo had once told her his whole life had been a battle. In many ways hers had been the same.

“You did, you were a peaceful and happy girl, at least what I saw of you. Maybe if your life had been easier, you’d have gotten to stay that way. Happy I mean, you’re still quiet, though you seem much happier than you were when we left Japan.”

“Trust me, Daisuke and I have seen our share of rowdy sailors and other questionable characters wherever our ships have docked. I’ve seen you train, and I heard you and Taigen sparred back when we were on land a week ago. You might be a skilled warrior but you’re not a bloodthirsty one. You don’t kill for fun. You’re not exactly the rat eating monster in the cargo hold.” Hideki patted her on the shoulder. Mizu supposed it was an attempt to be friendly.

“You have no idea what I’ve done to get here,” Mizu sighed. Would the crew hate her if they knew her history? At the very least they would not be able to see her in the same light.

“Maybe not, but you’re here now. I’ve been a captain to many, and I haven’t had any problems with you, at least not more than my own kids. Heck, my wife and I would have been happy to take you in if we’d been able to find you. That maid sure hid you well.”

“I guess she did. I could have lived to many lives.” Mizu rubbed her eyes. She’d considered the possibility of having grown up with her father in Batavia or with both of her parents somewhere else, but not the possibility of having been raised by Daisuke and his wife or another family friend.

“That’s true for everyone Mizu,” Hideki smiled both his hair and beard were thick and curly rather than straight. Mizu supposed this was the result of his Portuguese heritage, “and you’re so young. You have so much life ahead of you to figure yourself out.” He was starting to sound like Swordfather.

“I’m not used to it,” Mizu admitted, “thinking of a life beyond revenge.” Truthfully, it frightened her how comfortable she’d gotten on the boat. With Taigen, with the crew, with the new information about where she came from. It would be hard to leave it all behind once they got to London.

“Not yet, but one day you will be,” Daisuke suggested. Perhaps he had a point. Mizu was a patient woman in many ways, but she still needed to learn to be patient with herself. Her travels had changed her, and she would change again after they had ended. She had time to figure out who that would be.

Notes:

I have a big work trip coming up so writing might slow down for a while (am flying to America on a Boeing so wish me luck), thank you for your patience.

Chapter 64: Mizu

Notes:

I actually managed my time efficiently and had a chance to write a bit in between life craziness. No chapter next week though as I will be travelling. Thank you for reading.

Comparing a gun to a sword was a disservice to both weapons. It had taken Mizu months to realize this but once again, holding the gun in her hands, she now knew that expecting a gun be a sword would only lead to disappointment.

For most of Mizu’s life, she had trained herself to wield a sword. After years of effort, she had molded herself into an exceptional swordsman. Against most of the boastful self-proclaimed warriors she’d crossed paths with there was no contest. She was the one to go on and fight another day unlike many of her opponents. In close combat, she could hold her own. If she was outnumbered, she could assemble a naginata with her weights for an added advantage. With her sword Mizu, had been able to survive her marriage and pursue her quest for revenge.

That did not mean that her sword did not have its limitations. Even when assembled into a naginata, a sword still had limited range. In the past, it had never occurred to her that she might benefit from a weapon that could be used at a distance. Mizu always thought of archery as a weapon for palace guards. Archers were best evaded, and face to face they were no match for her sword. The closest she’d come to a ranged weapon was learning how to throw knives.

A gun had more in common with a bow and arrow than it did a sword. It was more efficient, more powerful, more deadly, but it served the same purpose. Mizu had initially considered it a barbarian’s weapon, but now she could not help but see the beauty in the brass and polished wood. With the gun she’d killed seabirds and a dodo and a pig to feed the crew. She could load the weapon, point and shoot. Unlike a sword however, the gun needed time to reload. Fowler had caught her off guard and shot her at close range in his tower, shattering her sword. Mizu knew better now, in close quarters she could use the loading time and bulk of the weapon to her advantage. She now knew how to make the most of her sword in such a situation. From further distances the gun served a valuable tool. She was no less of a swordsman by learning a new skill.

Mizu could use the gun, now she just needed to improve her aim while shooting at longer distances. She could see a flock of sea birds flying over the water. They were close enough to shoot but far enough away for it to be a challenge. She loaded her gun and aimed at the birds. While initially clumsy, she’d gotten faster at loading the weapon. This she had been practicing. Shooting animals required stealth, but more often than not she had time to reload the gun. Animals did not know what guns were. Things would be different if she ever shot a person, especially in Europe where guns were commonplace. Even the low-level flesh traders would be more skilled with a gun than the one whose fingers she chopped up in Ringo’s noodle shop. Mizu wondered if her flesh-trader uncle was as skilled with a gun as Fowler was.

Looking back to the birds, she aimed her gun and shot. She missed, grazing a few feathers from the tail of a bird. Shooting at a distance was challenging on the boat, the speed of the boat, speed and direction of the wind, and the speed, distance, and direction of her target all had an impact on whether Mizu hit her target or not. It would be easier to shoot at a distance in London, she would mostly be on solid ground once she arrived. Much of sword fighting came down instinct and reactions but here she had to plan ahead.

Mizu took a deep breath and aimed again. This time she hit the wing of a bird. She was aiming for the head. Close but not exact. She would need more practice. Mizu hadn’t become an exceptional swordsman overnight. Marksmanship was no different. She knew that she was capable of learning so long as she put in the effort. She reloaded the gun.

The birds were further away now, but they were flying against the wind, slowing them down. Mizu could hear the sailors as they adjusted the sails and steered the boat. It had rained in the morning and the deck was still wet. One more shot and Mizu would go back to her chores around the ship. It was almost time for lunch. Mizu’s finger found the trigger of the gun, she estimated where the bird was going. She fired the gun. This time, she hit her target.

“I guess we’re not eating that one.” Mizu jumped, hearing the voice at her side. She’d been so focused on the birds that she hadn’t noticed the people around her.

“No, no sea birds for lunch.” Mizu shook her head. Taigen smiled, of course he’d come to watch her practice with the gun.

“Good, those last seagulls we caught were so oily and rancid I think I’d rather just eat hardtack.”

“Now you really sound like a sailor.” Mizu hadn’t known what to expect from Taigen when he’d first stowed away aboard the ship. She’d strongly considered throwing him overboard when he’d first confronted her after leaving Japan. She certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.

“Is that so bad?” Taigen shrugged, looking stupidly handsome as he leaned against the edge of the ship. He’d truly become part of the ship’s crew, a version of himself he likely never imagined but one that appeared to bring him peace.

“No, not at all,” Mizu placed the gun on the deck of the ship before reaching over to kiss him. It was hard not to daydream about living her whole life like this.

“I knew it!” Nobu announced, pulling a rope to adjust the sails, “I knew they were together.”

“I should have listened to you, you win every bet we’ve made on this trip,” Ren lamented.

“And then you spend all your money buying us drinks to celebrate,” Tohru noted. Ryo opened up his notebook to look at the bets.

“Everyone made bets this time except Johannes, he must have known all along.” Ryo noted, flipping through the pages.

“Speaking of Johannes I think it’s time for lunch. Time to go off to the mess hall.” Tohru waved at the sailors, leaving the ropes as they headed down for their next meal. Mizu couldn’t help but smile. They were an odd bunch, but she’d grown protective of the crew. Much like Taigen, Mizu had become an integral part to life on the ship. She was happy to provide meat for them when they were docked, to join them for meals and do her part in maintaining the ship. The crew had never gotten the chance to see her as a warrior, but if it ever came down to it, she would use any gun or sword skills she needed to defend them.

Chapter 65: Taigen

Notes:

Aaaand I'm back. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

There were always more dishes to wash. They weren’t a huge ship but somehow eating three meals a day meant that three times a day someone had to clean the dishes afterwards. At least once a day Taigen found himself helping the cook. Johannes was good company, running around the ship’s small kitchen as he split his focus between cleaning up after the last meal and cooking the next one. It was a good opportunity to learn Dutch. At times Mizu would join them. She had begun to pick up on a few words of Dutch and sometimes they spoke a bit of English. Taigen had picked up some basic phrases in English as well. During the quiet hours Johannes would teach Mizu how to write in the language. Taigen himself was learning to write in Dutch.

Johannes seemed to have an endless supply of notebooks, paper, ink, and art supplies stored in an empty corner of the kitchen that he cleaned meticulously. When he wasn’t cooking or cleaning, he was taking notes about the voyage or sketching scenes from life on the ship. While Daisuke had his official captain’s log and Ryo managed logistics and accounting, Johannes seemed to be keeping some other sort of recording about their journey back to the Dutch republic. Ever since they left Cape Town, Taigen had started paying more attention to the cook’s activities outside the kitchen. The man’s brother-in-law was using him to get around the law preventing foreigners from entering Japan. Johannes’s brother-in-law Aelbert Van der Veer was a powerful merchant within the VOC, Taigen wondered if he would remind him of Heiji Shindo. If this was the case it would take everything he had not to stab the man, though based on the way Johannes talked about him Taigen wouldn’t be surprised if he would be willing to help him hide the body.

With the dishes done and the cook puttering around to put them away, Taigen took the chance to look into the Johannes’s journals. He felt bad, spying on the cook but not enough to stop him from doing so. He pulled a journal off the shelf, opening it to a page in the centre.

“Be careful Taigen, you might not like what you see,” the cook warned, and not without reason. He’d opened the book up to a sketch of Seki, posing in the nude. Taigen grimaced and handed back the journal.

“I still can’t believe you fucked Seki.”

“What’s not to believe, he was a cultured intellectual with good hygiene,” Johannes shrugged.

“These journals, are these all just sketches of naked men?” Taigen asked, afraid to learn the answer.

“No, there’s some nature drawings and cityscapes as well.” Johannes opened the journal to a sketch of Kyoto in the fall.

“Are these for your brother-in-law?”

“Some, most are for personal enjoyment,” The cook closed the journal, putting it back in its place, “though the look of horror in his eyes if he opens them to wrong page might rival your own. Perhaps I ought to make him squirm. Pop a hole in his ego. I’ve finally created something he has no desire to own.”

“I never met this guy, and I already hate him.”

“Just wait until you meet him, you’ll hate him a whole lot more. I do worry what the VOC’s plan for Mizu is. They’ll know exactly who she is and what she represents, “The cook lamented.

“How would they know her? She’s never left Japan before?” Taigen asked. Trust Mizu to get into trouble.

“Oh no, they’ve never met Mizu. However, her dear father who she so greatly resembles runs a very public bar in an important VOC trading city and is not shy about sharing the sob story of his dear blue-eyed daughter whose mother was the wife of an Englishman living in Japan. Word gets around. The Dutch East India Company know of her, her very existence is proof that Japanese have not been living up to their promise of the VOC having a monopoly on foreign trade,” Johannes explained.

“She has a bounty on her head. Someone’s wanted her dead her entire life.”

“Well yes, if the Japanese had managed to kill her, or at least prevent her from getting out of the country Kaito’s ghost story would remain just that, a ghost story. There would be no living, breathing proof of their dishonesty. Mizu’s mother’s husband wants to get rid of her as well from what I’ve heard. And rat man in the cargo hold, he’s even more undeniable evidence that the Japanese have not been entirely honest with the Dutch East India Company.” Taigen had never even considered this possibility.

“Does Mizu know?” Taigen asked.

“It’s unlikely, I suppose I’ll have to have a chat with her when we reach Goree, certainly before we get to Amsterdam. Poor girl has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. Not that she has anywhere else for her to go,” Johannes frowned, “I’ll have to go with the both of you to England. Keep you from getting yourself killed.”

“I thought you just wanted to get away from your brother-in-law.” Having the cook follow them to England was not the worst thing that could happen. It was better to know more people than less. Taigen still thought Mizu’s idea of travelling alone to London with no one but Fowler as company was a stupid idea. Almost as stupid as his own idea to stow away on their ship.

“A man can have multiple motivations, some more altruistic than others.”

“Huh,” Taigen’s head hurt. He had devoted his life to being a samurai, he knew his way around a sword. He’d learned how to fish and sail. It was becoming more and more obvious to Taigen that politics were not an area he had any talent in nor brought him any sense of joy and accomplishment. Once he got back to Japan, he just wanted to live a quiet life somewhere, hopefully with Mizu if they both survived her quest, “I guess not every battle can be fought with a sword.”

“Afraid not Taigen.” Johannes shook his head.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

“Trouble. Speaking of which there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.” The cook crossed his arms.

“About the VOC?”

“No. Not that. When you were at the dojo I’m assuming you were surrounded by men and did not learn about much more than fighting. Did they teach you other things about life?” Johannes’s tone reminded him of his older brothers.

“Yes?” Taigen had no idea what the cook was trying to say.

“So, you know where children come from. How they are born and how it can be dangerous for women to have them outside of marriage.” Now he definitely reminded Taigen of his older brothers when they were lecturing him.

“I’m not an idiot Johannes.”

“Perhaps not, but you might be a fool. You and Mizu are a lovely couple and what you do in your free time is none of my business. But you’re both on a dangerous journey in a land that is foreign to you. If you get her pregnant, especially out of wedlock that would be a precarious situation for everyone involved.” Shit. Taigen hadn’t even thought of it, but the cook was not wrong.

“I’m not sure she’ll want to get married again, not after her last husband.” This he had thought about.

“Have you asked her about it?”

“No.”

“Well then, either you should do so soon or find…other ways to enjoy your time together until you figure things out,” Johannes suggested. Taigen took a deep breath before going up to the deck of the ship to get some air. If he ever did survive the journey, Taigen wanted nothing more than to live a quiet life in the countryside and never think of politics again.

Chapter 66: Mizu

Notes:

It's been a week, have a chapter.

Mizu was no stranger to training at night. As a child, it was when Master Eiji allowed her to practice her sword skills. In that sense he was permissive, but even in her youth, Mizu knew that deep down Swordfather had hoped she would abandon her quest for revenge. He’d wanted her to create things and not destroy them. For most of her life, Mizu had thought herself too wretched a demon to create anything. Destruction was all she had. Revenge was all she had. The only thing she had power over were her own skills.

Using a sword at night was not all that different from using a sword in the day. The motions were the same. If one’s opponent were close enough to be in stabbing range, the battle would come down to skill and instinct. Mizu had trained nearly every night at the forge. Whether it was hot or cold, whether there was rain or snow, whether the sky was clear or there was fog. She trained, and trained, and trained. Mizu doubted she had any natural talents, with a sword or in any other area of her life. All she had was her focus and all she could do was work. And work she had. She’d done everything in her power to become an exceptional swordsman.

Shooting a gun at night was different to shooting a gun in the day. Sure, the mechanics were the same, but it was slower to load the gun, she had to go by feel unless they had a clear night. Mizu’s reflexes weren’t as good with a gun as they were with a sword yet, nor was her aim. She was a decent shot in daylight. Night was more of a challenge. Mizu really had to watch the shadows in order to have a chance to hit her target. This time she’d only hit one of the five sea birds she’d aimed at. She was getting nowhere. It was time to put the gun away for the night and get some rest. Save some ammunition for another day. They could restock once they got to Goree.

“Please tell me you’re storing that gunpowder properly. Flammable stuff, shoot it by accident and there’s a good chance the ship will catch flames,” Mizu could hear Johannes as he lectured her, coming up from the kitchen with tea.

“Fowler told me the same thing.” Mizu sealed up her container of gunpowder, carefully storing the gun, gunpowder, lead balls, and ramrod in a box on the deck of the ship. She slipped it under the wood, hidden from view.

“Makes sense, rat man’s a scumbag but even he doesn’t want to be burned to a crisp over the open ocean,” the cook shrugged, handing her a cup of tea.

“He values his life.” Mizu thought back to Edo and Fowler’s attempted coup to overthrow the shogun. He’d crushed her ribs and taunted her with stories of London. She’d burned the city to the ground. Mizu took a sip of the tea. It was unusual to Johannes to come to her.

“He thinks he’s going to make it back to London,” the cook laughed, there was almost a bitterness in its tone, “as though the VOC is going to let him go.”

“The Dutch East India Company know who Fowler is?” Mizu raised an eyebrow. She knew very little about the VOC except that they were a powerful trading company and Johannes’s brother-in-law worked with them as a merchant.

“They knew the shogun was not being entirely transparent with them about having a monopoly of foreign trade at the Dejima. Fowler’s proof of it. More importantly, they know who you are.” The cook explained. He grimaced. The revelation was a knife to the gut. The cook had certainly been holding it behind his back as though it were a knife. And here she thought Johannes had been her friend. Mizu briefly considered tossing him overboard.

“You always knew how I was? How did you know?” Mizu bit her lip.

“Since I was young. My mother grew up in the Nagasaki in the same neighbourhood as your father. My father and Daisuke are friends, they exchange gossip in port whenever they cross paths. I heard the story of Kaito’s ghost girl. Your father told your story to anybody who would listen, including the VOC. Of course, I never expected you to be alive until I met you in the flesh. But now that it’s known that you’re alive, you look too much like your father not to be recognised,” the cook confessed.

“They’ll know I’m a woman.” Mizu took a sip of her now lukewarm tea.

“The English won’t, but the Dutch will. At least anyone familiar with your father and his stories. The sailors won’t care, no one on this ship is bothered by you nor has expectations aside from you pitching in with the chores of the ship. The merchants might see you as weapon, if not a pet they’d like to keep in their collection.”

“So, this is what’s waiting for me in Amsterdam.” Mizu had originally planned to keep living as a man once she got to Europe. The past few months had complicated everything. The past few minutes complicated them even more.

“I was planning on telling you once we got to Goree. I should have told you ages ago. You’ll have to be careful, these men, they want to own everything and everyone,” he warned.

“Sounds like Fowler,” if they treated her like Fowler had, Amsterdam might have a few more fires to worry about.

“More than they would care to admit. You’re a skilled warrior, but you’re also a vulnerable young widow. You have to be careful.” Widow. Mizu rarely thought of herself as a widow. Her marriage to Mikio felt as though it had occurred in another lifetime.

“And I have to get to Amsterdam before I get to London,” Mizu grumbled. She had not gotten on a boat to travel halfway around the world just so she could be stored as a specimen in the mansion of some Dutch merchant.

“If you want the VOC and their resources on your side then yes. Your doom is not inevitable.”

“I always thought I was born doomed.” Mizu thought back to her childhood, being in the hut at the edge of Kohama village. She remembered seeing the other children play, knowing that there was a whole world outside her door that she could never be a part of. But she was part of the world. Whether it wanted her or not.

“If I were born in Japan with a bounty on my head I might have thought the same thing.”

“All I had was the ability to avenge the monsters that created me, but my parents weren’t monsters. The men I sought to kill, they won’t leave me in peace. I want my life,” Mizu sighed, the words felt new and unfamiliar on her tongue as though they were a language she’d only started to learn, “I want to live.”

“Good. I hope for you that by the end of this quest your life is truly yours, and you’re not stabbed in a gutter or shitting yourself to death from eating rotten food.” Mizu wondered if Johannes lectured his sisters as much as he did her.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Oh, and try not to have a child out of wedlock. I know you and Taigen are fooling around and I’m not going to tell you what to do. But do be careful,” the cook warned, heading back for the kitchen. Mizu had never imagined herself as a mother but that did not mean her body was incapable of it. Much like shooting a gun at night, she was going to have to think about her decisions before she made them. If all went well she would have a life she was able to plan for, with plans that extended beyond revenge.

Chapter 67: Taigen

Notes:

And the voyage continues.

It was raining again.

For the past two days they’d been sailing in and out of storms. They hadn’t seen this much rain since they left Cape Town three weeks ago, but after months at sea it was inevitable that they’d hit some sort of bad weather. Taigen’s father had taken his boat out to sea rain or shine. He remembered his father stumbling around in a drunken stupor, hardly aware of the weather. More than once, Taigen had thought of throwing him overboard, leaving him to drown. He’d never worked up the nerve. Instead, he’d wandered the streets of Kohama, taking his frustration out on the stray dogs or Mizu if he could find her. His father had never escaped his drunken stupor. Taigen hoped he’d learned from his mistakes.

Cleaning up the kitchen had kept him out of the rain. Along with the usual dishes, Johannes had talked Taigen into helping him clean out the stove, sweep the floors, and dust the shelves. Taigen’s arms ached from scrubbing stubborn grease out and other forms of gunk and dirt out of the stove. How much of it had gotten into their meals was not a question Taigen had any desire to learn the answer to, but he suspected that tomorrow’s breakfast would taste a little better coming from a cleaner kitchen.

“If there’s one good thing I did learn in Japan, it was how to make tea properly,” Johannes mulled over a pot of boiling water, about to add the tea leaves.

“Let me guess, you learned from Seki.”

“He was a man of many skills,” the cook dropped the leaves into the pot, “of course a large batch of tea is never quite as good as a pot, but with this weather the pot is best for everyone.”

“Seki hated me.”

“He told you so?”

“He didn’t have to.” Taigen thought back to the few times he and Seki had crossed paths. His disapproving glances were worth a thousand words.

“I suppose you can thank me for that.” At the time Taigen thought Seki disapproved of him because of his background, when in reality it what he disapproved of was Taigen’s character.

“He didn’t want Akemi to marry an asshole,” Taigen confessed as Johannes strained the tea. If Taigen ever had a daughter of his own, he wouldn’t want her near a man like the one he’d been in Kyoto.

“Well, you’ve come a long way,” the cook handed him a cup. He placed it down on the counter before taking a sip. No need to burn his hands or mouth because he couldn’t wait a moment. Once the tea had cooled down slightly he took a sip. It was worth the wait. Taigen couldn’t help but think of Ringo, if anyone had tea-making secrets it would be him. A few sips in and he could hear footsteps down the hall, Daisuke and Hideki had joined them in the kitchen.

“Tea?” the cook offered.

“Please, the rain is awful out there, I can feel it in my bones. I hate getting old,” the captain frowned.

“Can’t argue with that, my joints aren’t what they used to be. That and my hair used to be black, look at me. Even my eyebrows are going white,” Hideki lamented, taking a sip of tea.

“At least you still have hair Hideki, I have about six of those left. My head will blind the crew if I don’t wear a hat in the sun. And I’ve gotten a pot belly,” Daisuke looked down at his stomach and sighed.

“My dad always said he was lucky to be ugly because good looks were one less thing to lose as he got old,” Johannes argued. Taigen wondered whether or not the cook looked like his father.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Of all my childhood friends, only Kaito still looks decent. Drinking himself half to death should have ruined his looks but he looks the same. Mizu looks like him, she’ll probably age well,” Daisuke observed. Taigen had imagined Mizu as an old woman on several occasions hunched over a forge like Master Eiji, still stubbornly puttering about. He’d never imagined himself as an old man. Taigen had imagined himself being middle aged and wealthy with children and a beautiful wife. He’d also had nightmares of himself becoming his father. His father had never reached old age, and Taigen had never thought that far ahead.

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t get herself killed before then. Revenge quests do sound dangerous. Taigen, since you knew her in Japan, did Mizu end up in a lot of dangerous situations?” Hideki asked.

“You have no idea,” Taigen took a sip of his tea. Mizu’s time on the ship was probably the longest she’d gone without stabbing anyone in a very long time. It was best for everyone that he did not go into the details of her quest. He looked at the two old men who had been friends for years. They’d seen the world together. Hideki had a rolled-up sheet of paper under his arm. Taigen assumed it was a map, “Where are we?”

“Well, we’re over the open ocean so it’s hard to determine our exact position,” Hideki unrolled the map on a clear spot on the counter, “I’d say we’re about here.” He pointed to a spot on the map, but it was in Dutch and Taigen still hadn’t learned how to read it yet.

“Angola, that’s a Portuguese colony.” Daisuke pointed to the name on the map.

“We’ll be passing by plenty of those,” Johannes noted, “it’s only a matter of time before the VOC ends up in a full-on trade war with Portugal,” he looked to Hideki, “sorry about that.”

“I’ve never even been to Portugal. My father told me stories about the place, but he loved Japan so much he married the daughter of a ceramics maker and never left. I’m glad he died before the kicked the Portuguese out, he loved it there and made it his home,” Hideki reminisced.

“Your brother-in-law made those,” Daisuke pointed to the lacquered tankards sitting on a shelf.

“They’re popular in the West. Western metals made into art with a Japanese technique and sold to a European market,” Hideki explained.

“We don’t make much in the way of lacquer in the Dutch Republic, or anywhere in Europe for that matter.” Johannes poured another cup of tea. Looking around Taigen could see Mizu had come back to the kitchen after cleaning the mess hall. Her sleaves were still rolled up from mopping and she rubbed her eyes before taking the tea.

“Japan didn’t used to be so isolated,” Hideki sighed, “but at least we get to see some of the world.” Taigen looked down at the map before looking around the room. The tankards he’d dusted that evening would not have existed without influence from both Japan and the West. But there they sat. In his youth, Mizu was the only mixed-race person Taigen had ever seen but now she wasn’t even the only one in the room. Like Mizu, both Johannes and Hideki were part Japanese and part European. All three of them looked different and had led very different lives. There were probably others out there, people of mixed heritage, more than Taigen would ever know and could ever imagine. In many ways, Mizu was not unique. Still, she was special, or at the very least she was special to him.

Notes:

I both do and don't feel like I'm hitting a writing slump. I may slow down writing a bit depending on work and personal stuff but we'll see how it goes. I'm doing my best here so thank you for your patience.

Chapter 68: Fowler

Notes:

I think we've been overdue for a Fowler chapter...

Of all the things Fowler learned at sea, the one that surprised him the most was that Mizu had her mother’s smile. She never smiled at him of course. Every time Mizu came for an English lesson or to give Fowler his meals she’d stare at him blankly, her face a mask of indifference. Still, he caught glimpses of her through the bars in his cage. She was affectionate with her pet samurai of course, but more surprising to Fowler were the friendly smiles and conversation she seemed to exchange with the crew. Mizu had not initially struck him as the type to make friends. He’d thought the same thing about Eliza Skeffington. In both instances, he’d been proven wrong.

Unlike her daughter, Eliza Skeffington had never been an angry woman. Any time Fowler had looked at her; he’d noticed that her eyes were a thousand miles away. Eliza’s mind had been a castle, one with walls more impenetrable than the one Fowler had been holed up in back in Japan. Violet, Routley, Skeffington, even Heiji Shindo had been open books, their desires worn like gold for all to see. Fowler could respect an honest man; in many ways he was one. His desires spoke for themselves. Something he and Mizu had in common, though getting her to see it was proving to be a challenge. But Eliza, she’d kept her thoughts and feelings hidden away as she escaped to the corner of her mind. At least until she came to Japan.

Like Mizu, Eliza had fallen in love with an idiot who had worked his way up in the world by being good with a sword. Both were forgettable men Fowler thought very little of. Mizu’s pet samurai hadn’t even been fun to torture. Eliza had been quiet about her feelings, but in the few times they’d crossed path Fowler could tell that something had changed. Her face looked as though it had seen light for the first time, she was gentle, almost playful in moments, as though she was making up for a miserable childhood. It disgusted Fowler. Whenever he saw a light in someone, he made it his mission to snuff it out. Not that he’d had the chance with Eliza, her husband had that privilege. Mizu had a long pretty neck; Fowler couldn’t help but wonder if it would snap as easily as her mother’s had.

Fowler suspected that if Mizu had escaped with her parents somewhere she’d be a very different person than the one watching him dip hardtack into seagull stew. A gentle naïve girl rather than the vengeful swordsman he’d met in Japan and whoever the fuck she was in the process of becoming. Day after day, he would taunt her, and she would stare at him as though she was watching paint dry. Fowler was bored out of his mind.

“You can’t trust the Dutch,” he warned. On this he was telling the truth. He would not have willingly gotten on a ship flying the colours of the Dutch republic and the VOC logo, details he’d gotten out of the sailors.

“And I can trust the English?” Mizu raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“They don’t know where to find Routley, or Skeffington.” Fowler bit into a chunk of seagull meat. It was rancid and gristly yet somehow still better than most of the tavern stew he’d had in London. As much as he disliked the ship’s cook, he did deserve some credit for not poisoning him.

“Do you? After all this time?” She taunted him.

“Routley’s in his brothels. Skeffington is in his castle. I know these men love; men like them don’t change.”

“Then I’ll feel better about killing them.” There she was, the vengeful swordsman, someone Fowler was happy to see again.

“You’ll need my help to find them, especially Skeffington, he does his business in London, but his castle is quite…remote.” Fowler had only been to Skeffington’s mouldy old castle once. He’d had no desire to return, but it was not a bad way to gain Mizu’s trust before handing her off to Routley to keep as a curiosity. If Skeffington’s descent into madness was as severe as Catherine Skeffington indicated in her letters, then he was doing the man a favour by sending Mizu to put him out of his misery. Fowler wondered how exactly Catherine would react to Mizu. Her pride would certainly be wounded by the fact that the foreign mongrel was the only daughter her mother actually wanted. Based on her letters, Fowler could tell that Catherine Skeffington was a calculating woman but could be unpredictable when she was angry. Mizu would make her angry.

“I’ll find a way in. I found a way into yours.” Mizu shrugged. Skeffington hall was much easier to infiltrate than his castle in Japan, but Fowler thought to keep this fact to himself. Last Fowler checked; the castle had minimal security. If Mizu hunted down Skeffington at his home, she was at greater risk of ruining her lungs breathing in the mold in the walls of being crushed by the castle’s crumbling roof.

“I’m sure you could, but why make things so hard on yourself? Trust me, you have no idea what you’re walking into.” Another truth. Mizu had spent her entire life believing herself to be an only child, she’d never had so much as an argument with her sisters. Fowler’s sister had been fond of arguing, it was when she had stopped talking back to him that he’d known she was truly dying.

“And you’ll make things easier?” Mizu leaned against a crate, crossing her arms. She glared at him for a moment, her eyes drifting to stare out the window of the boat. She froze. Fowler turned; through the bars of his cage, he could see through the glass. It was getting dark but even he could see a light in the distance. Another boat.

“Looks like we have company,” Fowler looked back out. The boat was too far away to see a flag, it could be from anywhere. Still, the light was getting closer. Mizu rummaged through the crates of cargo, grabbing a gun and one of the decorative swords. She ran up the stairs towards the deck of the ship leaving Fowler alone in his cage. Whatever was going to happen that evening, at least he wasn’t going to be fucking bored.

Chapter 69: Taigen

Notes:

And we're back!

Taigen hadn’t thought much about the boat on the horizon. Sure, they’d rarely seen other ships outside of port cities but even he knew that there were dozens, if not hundreds of trading ships all over the world. Hideki had finally shown him a map of the world the night before, translating the Dutch name of countries they’d passed and those they’d yet to visit. For the first time Taigen had seen where the British Isles were and how far they were from Japan. The world was bigger than he’d ever imagined, and he was but a passenger sailing from one group of islands to another half a world away.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the ship on the horizon. Tohru had first spotted it late in the afternoon. It was coming their way, and the sailors were growing uneasy. As the ship approached, the captain had mentioned something about the ship looking worse for wear and flying no colours. According to Ryo, it was a merchant ship by design, most likely Dutch, but had either been battered in a storm or battle, or else had been taken over for nefarious purposes. Taigen had no idea what to expect. He waited. Until the sun went down. Until the ship arrived.

“Who are they?” He whispered to Ryo, who was walking up onto the deck of the ship. Mizu was nowhere to be seen; it had been her turn to bring Fowler his dinner and she was most likely still in the cargo hold.

“I don’t know, they don’t seem like VOC employees to me.” The ship had gotten close enough that Taigen could see the crew. They seemed like a rag-tag group of men. Some looked as though they were from Europe, others from Africa, others from places Taigen could not quite put his finger on.

“If they’re pirates, they’re going to be fucking disappointed once they get into the cargo hold. All we’ve got is some artwork, Johannes’s journals, and the cannibal,” Ren grumbled. Taigen supressed a laugh, imagining the reaction of treasure-seeking pirates looking for gold and jewels and instead being met with Abijah Fowler in his stinking cell.

“We barely have any weapons,” Nobu noted, “we’ve got a few guns, some ammunitions, and a handful of swords. Not that anyone other than you and Mizu have any sword skills.”

“Speaking of swords,” Ryo pulled out the sword from Mizu’s bunk. The one her father gave her, “I have Mizu’s, she’ll be fine with the ones in storage next to Fowler. I hope we don’t need it but just in case, take it for now.” Ryo handed Taigen the sword. He nodded. Taigen did not have Mizu’s eye when it came to sword quality, but even he knew it wasn’t the best sword ever made. Still, it would do the job if he needed to defend the crew.

“Too bad we don’t have any guns up here; Ren’s a pretty good shot.” Nobu looked around nervously.

“We do. Mizu keeps one up here. It’s hidden somewhere” Taigen scratched his head, trying to remember what box Mizu kept the gun in.

“I guess that’s the trouble about hiding things. It makes them hard to find.” Ryo helped Taigen as they rummaged through the boxes.

“If you’re looking for the gun, it’s in the box to the left under a pile of rope.”

“Mizu!” Ryo jumped. Mizu tiptoed up the stairs to the deck of the ship. She was carrying both a sword and a gun.

“Is that gun loaded?” Ren asked.

“No, there’s gunpowder and lead balls in boxes under the gun. Johannes keeps lecturing me and how flammable the boat is, so I keep it all stored in separate boxes.”

“It is made of wood,” Ren shrugged, “we’re not much use to the VOC if their ship gets charred and the cargo sinks to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Our boat is made of wood, but so is theirs,” Nobu pointed to the approaching ship, “and they’ve got piles of gunpowder everywhere.”

“Think they’re unfriendly or are they just slobs?” Taigen squinted; the boat was getting close enough to see that the deck of their ship was in disarray. His time at the dojo might not have made him a good man, but at least it had brought a sense or order to his life. By the looks of the approaching ship, order was on short supply on deck.

“Unfriendly slobs,” Ren loaded both guns, “this is not a navy ship. No cannons or discipline. Probably no hygiene either.”

“So, who are they?” Taigen wondered. His childhood as a fisherman’s son had not prepared him for international travel nor the politics involved.

“Pirates or privateers. Not that it makes a difference. Either way they’ll want to kill us and loot the ship,” Ren explained grimly.

“That’s not going to happen.” Mizu frowned, scanning the deck of the ship. Daisuke, Tohru, and Hideki were talking at the other end of the ship, likely discussing what to do about the approaching ship, “do any of you know how to use a gun?” Ren nodded.

“I’m not a good shot but I can load a gun quickly, my small fingers are good for something,” added Ryo. He was easily the shortest person on the ship, though his father was a close second.

“All I’ve got is a knife to cut rope.” Nobu shrugged. Between them they had two swords, two guns and ammunition to load them, and one knife. They all looked at each other for a moment in silence.

“I think I have a plan,” Ren studied the weapons in front of them, “if Daisuke can reason with them, we won’t need to use it, but if they board the ship, we’ll all be in danger. What we need to do is keep them from overwhelming the ship. If the guns are loaded, I can pick them off as they try to board the ship.”

“Guns take a moment to load,” Mizu warned.

“I know, that’s why I’ll shoot, and Ryo can load. If I need to shoot the gunpowder on deck to set their ship on fire I will. Mizu, Taigen, you both have swords, take care of any pirates that board the ship.”

“What about me?”

“You, Nobu, are going to cut through the ropes they use to board the ship, get as much distance between us and them as you can,” Ren explained, taking a deep breath. They sat in silence, waiting. All they could do was wait.

“Mizu, I have your father’s sword. Do you want it back?” Taigen whispered, offering her the sword back.

“It fits well in your hand. Keep it for now,” she smiled softly, not looking away from the approaching ship. It had been a while since either of them had seen a real battle. Taigen hoped they both remembered how to fight.

Chapter 70: Mizu

Notes:

I realize leaving off on a cliffhanger is a cruel thing.

Trigger warning for gore and violence.

The ship approached until it sailed into theirs, attaching itself to them like a leech. Nobu had mentioned that with the winds being as they were, they would not have been able to evade it.

The sailors were silent, the only chatter came from the ship as it tied itself to theirs. They spoke a language Mizu didn’t recognise. Judging by the disarray on board the ship, she assumed they were most likely pirates. There was a massive pile of gunpowder on the deck leaving black smears on the wood. If it were as flammable as Johannes had warned, Ren would have no trouble setting their ship alight. Nobu looked up at the ropes used to tie the ship to theirs. If Daisuke couldn’t reason with the pirates and they attacked the ship, Nobu’s job was to cut through the ropes tying them together. Her job was to slice through anyone who tried to keep him from doing so.

The leader of their crew was a short, scrawny man with a feathered hat. On each side of him, big burly men who reminded Mizu of Heiji Shindo’s giant. They commanded Daisuke, or at least they tried to. Daisuke tried to talk to them in Japanese, then Dutch, until Hideki took over the conversation in their language. They must have been Portuguese or at least from one of the colonies. The conversation grew more tense, Mizu looked around at the pirates on their ship. They had a mishmash of weapons: swords both thin and curved, axes, spears, and a few guns between them. Mizu could tell by their posture and the way they held their weapons that these were not trained warriors. This did not reassure her in the slightest. If it was her life or theirs, there was little difference between facing off against a skilled swordsman or an angry desperate one.

She wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword and took a deep breath. Hideki was in a shouting match with the pirate leader. Daisuke tried to intervene. One of the burly men hit him in the head with his gun, knocking him out.

“Dad!!” Ryo screamed. He tried to run towards his father, Taigen held him back.

“Focus Ryo, I need you here. Keep the guns loaded. We’ll make it through if you do that.” Ren tapped him on the shoulder before picking up his gun to shoot a man with a heavy-looking axe trying to board the ship. Mizu heard a splash and a yelp as he fell into the water. Ryo loaded the gun. His hands were shaking. He mumbled the steps of the process to himself as he did his best to stay focused.

Mizu turned around to the sound of thump behind her. A burly man with heavy boots and a hook for a hand charged her with cutlass. She met his blade with hers. His breath smelled of alcohol and salt pork. He yelled something at her. It must have been funny in Portuguese as it made the pirates laugh. He smiled smugly, looking away for her to cut off his hook, then his arm, then kick him overboard.

She noticed a scrawny man in embroidered vest in front of her loading a gun. He was aiming at Taigen who had sliced through one of the burly pirates and was sparring with a tall man with an eyepatch and a long skinny sword. Loading a gun took time, Mizu’s sword was faster. She sliced her sword through his neck. The blood spewed out, wet and sticky on her face. She tried not to swallow, spitting out as much of it as she could. Still, her mouth tasted of iron.

Taigen had stabbed the man with the eye patch in the shoulder, he tumbled down onto the deck of the ship. Now he was fighting the other large burly man. Mizu heard footsteps behind her, she turned around. Slicing through two more pirates as she went.

“How thick is this fucking rope???” Nobu sliced desperately through yet another of the ropes the pirates had used to board the ship with.

“Thicker between the line between life and death if these pirates take the ship,” Ren warned. He picked off the sniper hiding in the crow’s nest of their ship. His bones cracking like twigs as he hit the deck of the ship. Ryo loaded the gun again. His hands were still shaking and the tears rolled down his face. Mizu looked over at the captain, Tohru seemed to be treating his wounds. Hideki was bashing the pirate leader’s head in with a plank of wood and yelled at the man who had managed to rip out a chunk of his beard. Mizu didn’t even need to know a word of Portuguese to know that Hideki was likely cursing that man’s entire family for several generations.

Taigen stood over them, having cut through the other burly man, as well as another pirate with a spear. Mizu had little fondness for her father’s sword but in Taigen’s hand it had a sense of purpose. He was steady on his feet, covering Tohru’s back so he and Hideki could take the captain back down from the deck of the ship and prevent the pirates from looting it. There was a pile of bodies building up, mostly pirates, but a few crew members Mizu had talked to in passing. She bit her tongue. She’d been about to turn over until she felt something hit her in the back, knocking her down amidst the bodies on deck.

Mizu caught herself with her hands. She could feel the splinters digging into her palms. She grabbed her sword, and she pushed herself up, catching the spear of the enormous man who knocked her over. He grunted. She glared at him. He charged her, she dodged him, getting back up as he slid across the deck of the ship. Looking around, Mizu could see Nobu had cut through most of the ropes and Ren had picked off most of the pirates left on the ship.

Any relief Mizu felt had been cut short. The enormous man had gotten up and decided to charge her with his spear. She dodged quickly enough to avoid any major damage, but his spear ripped through her clothes, narrowly avoiding her ribs. He tried to charge her again, but this time she was faster, stepping out of harm’s way herself while digging a knife into his gut. It took all of strength to drag her sword through his belly, but she managed. The man’s intestines slid out of his gut like rings of sausage. He yelped in horror and then he said nothing. His blood dripped into the wood.

“Did you get the ropes Nobu?” Ren’s voice cut through the commotion. They still had a plan.

“For now. Take the shot Ren!” Nobu begged, he’d been jumped by the pirate leader, somehow still alive after Hideki had smashed his face in. Mizu jumped in to decapitate him from behind. Nobu stared at her blankly, now drenched in blood. She dragged the pirate leader’s body to the edge of the deck and pushing it into the ocean. She kicked his head overboard, and then his bloodstained hat. Mizu heard a splash as the head hit the water. Then she heard a boom. The pirate ship was on fire.

Nobu and some of the remaining sailors rushed back to their stations to navigate the ship away from flames. None of the pirates were still standing. Their plan had worked.

“I think we’re actually going to make it,” Taigen sighed with relief. It was a sigh of relief too soon. The pirate with the eyepatch reached out to grab his sword, stabbing him in the gut.

“Taigen,” Mizu gasped. She froze for a moment before shoving her sword through the pirate’s eyepatch into his skull. Taigen looking down at the blood that was seeping out of the wound, staining his clothes. He blinked for a moment, and then he collapsed.

Chapter 71: Mizu

Notes:

After two rough cliffhangers this one has a normal ending I promise.

“Fucking pirates,” Mizu wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Tohru swear before. Turning around, she could see the ship’s first mate come back to the deck of the ship. Him and the cook were carrying medical supplies to assess the damage.

If there ever was a time to curse, it was now. There must have been at least a dozen corpses littering the deck of the ship. Most were pirates, though there were a few casualties among the crew. Mizu recognised two of the men, Kenji and Matsu. She had done laundry with them two nights ago. Kenji was the most tone-deaf man Mizu had heard in her life but had always insisted on singing as they did laundry while Matsu was a 16-year-old cabin boy desperate to escape home and the volatility of his opium-addicted father. Kenji’s throat had been slit while Matsu had been shot in the head. There were a few other men who had died in the attack, but she did not know them as well. A few other sailors had lesser injuries: a broken arm, a crushed foot, a broken nose, but nothing life-threatening. Except for Taigen.

She’d caught him before he’d fallen over, laying him down to prevent him from hurting himself further. She then ripped off his yukata, using it to put pressure on the wound. It was certainly bleeding but not to the extent she’d originally thought. Most likely Taigen had collapsed from the shock of being stabbed. He was still warm and seemed to be coming to. While dangerous, the wound did not seem to be immediately lethal.

“Tohru, you’re going to want some help with this one,” Johannes waved over the first mate before vomiting over the side of the ship, “I’m not good with blood.”

“I can help,” Ryo offered, “how’s dad?” his hands were still shaking.

“Probably going to have a black eye and need some rest. He’d likely be alright in a few days,” reported Tohru. Ryo sighed in relief, carrying over the bucket of water and fresh bandages as well as other cleaning supplies Johannes had left by the stairs.

“He’s been stabbed,” Mizu looked down at Taigen, his eyes had opened, and he was looking around.

“Ow,” Taigen grimaced.

“I can see that. You did the right thing Mizu, putting pressure on the wound. Give me a moment, I need to look at it and we’ll see what we can do,” Tohru sat down beside her and studied the wound. From what Mizu could tell it was a long slash across the gut though not an especially deep one.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” He asked, not looking up from the wound.

“Good. Good news.” Taigen answered.

“Alright Taigen, the good news is that you weren’t stabbed deeply enough to hit any organs. From what I’ve read, being stabbed in the stomach is one of the most painful ways to die. You don’t need to worry about that. The bad news is that the wound is deep enough to stab into the muscle, meaning you’re going to have a painful few months assuming we manage to avoid the wounds getting infected and you dying of fever as a result,” Tohru explained.

“Can you treat the wound?” Mizu looked down at Taigen, if her hands weren’t so bloodied she would have held his.

“I think so. The most important thing is to clean the wound, after that it can be stitched and dressed.” He brought the supplies closer and took a deep breath.

“I can do that; I’ve sewn myself up.” Mizu argued. She had the scars to prove it.

“Best not Mizu, you’d need a clear head. With loved ones that’s difficult to do. I wouldn’t want to sew up my own wife if it could be helped, nor would I ask Ryo to sew up his father.”

“I’ll help; I can sew. I’ve helped you clean wounds when some of the crew got hurt on past trips,” Ryo offered. His hands were no longer shaking.

“You did, you’re good,” Tohru nodded, and they went to work on Taigen’s wounds. Mizu took the chance to clean her hands and look around. She picked up the thin sword from the dead pirate. It was different from any sword she had ever made but it was well made from good steel. The handle and scabbard of the sword were decorated in an ornate manner. This was not a pirate sword, if anything it was one of those fancy western swords Fowler had mentioned that were used for decoration. The pirates must have pilfered it from a wealthy merchant ship. It would do no harm to keep the sword for herself and learn how to wield it. If she could learn to use a gun, it should be no trouble to wield a foreign sword. In the right hands, this sword could be a deadly weapon, though Mizu was grateful that it had not been.

She looked over at Taigen. He stared at her, looking away from Tohru and Ryo. They had cleaned out the wounds and began to stitch him up. He didn’t talk but instead whimpered as Ryo stuck the needle into his flesh. His breaths were shallow and his eyes wide open in pain. Mizu sat down beside him. His hair was soaked with sweat, and she brushed it out of his face. Comforting people was far outside Mizu’s area of expertise. She’d brought many people death and few people comfort in her life. She did not know what to say. She sat with Taigen instead. His breaths grew steadier as he watched her. She played with his hair. It seemed to distract him.

Mizu hadn’t known what to expect from her trip to England but being attacked by pirates was not a possibility that had crossed her mind. She had accepted the fact that her quest would most likely lead to her getting hurt or killed. She hadn’t wanted it to hurt anyone else. Now it had.

“How’s the wound?” she asked.

“Hurts,” Taigen grimaced.

“So far, it’s clean. We’ll keep an eye on it for now. Sorry Taigen but you’re not going to be able to do much for at least the next month. No ship labour or training or any other activity that could prevent healing, after that you should be able to do a few small chores for two months after that. You’re going to have a very boring life, at least until we get to Amsterdam. If you do this, you should live,” Tohru explained. He really did sound like a doctor. At some point Mizu would have to ask him about his past. After one last check to the bandages, Tohru and Ryo left to check on the remaining sailors and their injuries.

Taigen looked up at her, Mizu could tell he was still afraid and still in pain. She lay down beside him, looking up at the stars. The boat rocked gently amidst the waves. Mizu reached her hand out to his. It was warm. She could feel his fingers wrap around her own.

“I love you.” She’d never said those words before; they rolled off her tongue as though she were meant to say them for a lifetime.

Chapter 72: Taigen

Notes:

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy the chapter!

Getting stabbed was Taigen’s least favourite parts of being a samurai. No matter how many injuries he’d gotten over the years, he never got used to the feeling of a blade slicing through his skin and into his flesh. Still, it never stopped him from fighting. If anything, it motivated him to win. The worst injuries Taigen had ever sustained were not the result of a battle, rather they came from being tortured in Fowler’s castle. The only thing worse that being stabbed in a fight was being tortured in a castle, something Taigen hoped he would never experience again in his life. He still felt a twinge of pain in his fingertips whenever he passed Fowler’s cage in the cargo hold.

It had been a week since being attacked by pirates. A week since a man with an eyepatch had sliced through his abdomen with a sword. A week since Tohru had sewn him back together and a week since Mizu had told him she loved him. Since then, Taigen had been prescribed a week of bedrest. He’d had no shortage of time to think.

Johannes had set him up a cot in the kitchen. It was cramped, but still more comfortable than his usual bunk. The cook was good company, and Taigen didn’t mind not having to do dishes and clean the kitchen for a while. He was too tired and in too much pain. Tohru checked on his wounds on a daily basis. They appeared to be healing well. Johannes ran out of the kitchen whenever he did. The cook was a man of many skills, but he did not have the stomach to be a medic.

Mizu came and went. She snuck around in the shadows like a stray cat, checking on him out of the corner of her eye. She’d been busy cleaning up the ship after the attack. Still, Mizu always made time for him. Yesterday she’d done laundry while today she was mending clothes in the corner of the kitchen. Her thoughtful fingers pulled a needle and thread through the ripped fabric of her yukata. She sat there in her pants and juban. White was a lovely colour on her, she must have made a beautiful bride.

He loved this side of her, the quiet presence puttering about. In the short time Taigen convalesced in Master Eiji’s forge he’d noticed the old swordsmith had similar mannerisms. Mizu must have picked up on them in her time there. In all but blood, he truly was a father to her.

“You’ll have your clothes back soon.” Mizu tied a knot in her thread, she pulled on her yukata to test the strength of stitches before putting it on.

“I’m glad the sailors had some extras.” He’d been wearing borrowed clothes since his own had been sliced through and soaked with blood.

“Next time you stow away on ship traveling halfway around the world Taigen, at least think about packing some spare underwear,” Johannes lectured. Mizu laughed quietly, as she started sewing up his clothes. She had a sweet laugh. Taigen had gotten to hear it more often since leaving Japan, he hoped they both survived her quest, and he could continue to hear it once they got back.

“Once I get back to Japan, I’m staying put.” Not that Taigen had any idea what to do with himself once he returned. If he returned. He’d have to rebuild his entire life. The how didn’t bother him, he had time to think about it. So long as Mizu was there, he’d figure something out.

“You’re not the only one, I think I’m ready to retire after this trip,” Hideki admitted as Daisuke and him walked into the kitchen. Daisuke had a black eye from his run in with the pirates, but it was the ship’s navigator that Taigen hardly recognised.

“Hideki, what happened to you beard?” Taigen asked.

“Well, the pirates ripped out about a third of it. Couldn’t really salvage the rest so it had to go,” he sighed.

“You look-”

“Portuguese? I know, why do you think I grew it in the first place?”

“I was going to say younger than I thought.” Taigen had always assumed Hideki was ancient, in large part due to his long white beard. Though not a young man, the beard had preserved his skin, it was paler and less weathered than the rest of his face. A face that looked far more similar to the Portuguese pirates than anyone in Japan. His only noticeably Japanese feature was his eyes.

“Your wife will be happy,” Daisuke argued, “Sakura always says she can tell what you ate six months ago at sea based on the smell of your beard.”

“Yeah, might as well spend some time with her while I still can. Though it will have to wait a little longer. Mizu, if you were in a rush to get to London, you’re going to have to wait,” Hideki explained.

“I see,” Mizu nodded, less bothered by the revelation than she would have been at the start of the voyage, ‘I’m guessing the ship was damaged in the attack.”

“We’ll limp into Goree, but it’ll take us an extra month so we’re looking at another two months at sea. They should be able to fix the ship there, but we’ll be in port about a month.” Hideki unraveled the map, tracing the ship’s path with his fingers.

“So, we should still make it to Amsterdam for Christmas.”

“We should Johannes, unless we hit a storm or get attacked again. We’ll be in Goree just before the beginning of autumn.”

“Good thing you don’t want that duel anymore,” Mizu smirked. By the time the second of autumn rolled around, they’d be in Goree. Even if they were on dry land, Taigen would still not be healed enough to fight.

“Duel?” Daisuke raised an eyebrow, “what happened between the two of you?”

“Back in Japan, Mizu came to my dojo as part of her revenge quest. I was out drinking, celebrating my engagement at the time. I came back to fight her and lost so I hunted her down for a rematch. It was supposed to be the second of autumn. Mizu thought she would have completed her quest by then.” Johannes, Daisuke, and Hideki burst out in laughter at his story.

“Mizu, you truly are your father’s daughter. You didn’t think anything through.” Daisuke shook his head.

“I guess so,” she answered, not looking up from her sewing. Her cheeks had grown just the slightest bit red, “I was wrong about everything. You wanted my life, Taigen; you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

“Maybe not Mizu, but maybe I still want your life.” Taigen had an idea. It was either the best idea of his life, or else it was one of the worst.

“You’re stuck with me until we get to Amsterdam, maybe London, maybe longer,” she bit her lip, clearly confused at what he was trying to tell her.

“I like being stuck with you. I hope it’s for longer. We could still have a contract for the second of autumn if you want. You could marry me.” The words rolled off his tongue far easier than they ought to have. He meant every one of them.

“Have you been drinking?” Mizu had dropped her sewing; she looked at him with a type of fear in her eyes he hadn’t seen before.

“No. I just had a lot of time to think. If I die on this trip I might as well die a happy young man.”

“But what if you don’t die. What if you’re stuck with me?” Taigen could see the tears welling up in her eyes as she walked over to sit with him.

“Then I’ll die a happy old man. And hopefully you’ll die a happy old woman.” He reached over to kiss her forehead. Mizu laughed, breaking the tension in the room.

“Just don’t send assassins after me if I beat you in a fight,” she smirked.

“Don’t you remember Mizu? No one gets to kill you but me.”

“I’ll ruin your hair again if you try,” she threatened, she almost looked intimidating for a moment before she started laughing again.

“As a ship’s captain I can officiate marriages. I’m sure we can figure something out if you wish.” The captain offered.

“The two of you already argue like an old married couple,” Johannes rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t inflict either of you on anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Taigen reached out to kiss his wife-to-be. Hopefully this engagement wouldn’t be broken by a rogue swordsman on a revenge quest.

Chapter 73: Mizu

Notes:

Hey everyone, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy the chapter!

What had she gotten herself into?

If Mizu had asked herself a year ago where she thought she would be in the present time, it would be back in Japan finishing off her quest for revenge. Her life was much simpler when it revolved around killing the men she thought were her father. Back then it was only her and her quest. No friends or family who could get hurt because they got too close to her, not that she had thought herself worthy of having people close to her. She was a demon, after all. In some way the certainty of seeing herself as such was comforting. It set her apart.

Mizu had no idea where she would be in a year. In the past she would have assumed to have completed her revenge quest, thus completed her life’s purpose and having no reason to live on. Mizu been so certain about who she was and what she was meant to do: kill her father and die alone. But she’d been wrong about everything. Her father wasn’t a demon and neither was she. Seeing the world beyond Japan had proved that to her. If all went well, she’d have a chance to reconnect with her remaining family. Beyond family, Mizu had made friends: first Ringo in Japan, and then much of the crew aboard the ship. She was even getting married again. Mizu had not expected herself to fall in love with anyone, nor be loved in return, certainly not with Taigen of all people. Had she not lived it, none of it would have made sense to her.

Her first husband had been a stranger. He’d betrayed her the moment he caught a glimpse of what she was capable of. Taigen knew exactly who she was. He knew where she came from, learning her true parentage at the same time as she did. Mikio had resented her in an instant. If Taigen grew to resent her it would be gradual, the way many men grew to resent their wives. After so many years of living as a man, Mizu was no stranger to their ways. The way many couples were worn down by the grind of daily life. Would she grow resentful over time? Would he grow tired of her? Would she die young? Would he? What if they never made it back to Japan? What if they did? Who would they be in middle age? What about when they got old?

Mizu never expected to live long enough for life to wear her down. Now there was a chance that it could. Fear crept into her, the way the winter chill crept through a crack in the wall. She knew fear. She knew hatred. She knew vengeance. With her sword she had been able to cut through any enemy that stood in her way. She could fight assassins, she could fight soldiers, she could not fight time and everything it would one day take away from her. Mizu sighed. She sat on her bunk absentmindedly brushing the knots out of her hair as she stared into space. She could use some sleep. It had been an eventful day.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” Ryo noted as he shaved his own head in front of the small mirror in their bunk as he did every other week.

“Huh, I guess so,” Mizu looked down at her own hair which had been steadily growing out. By the time they got to Amsterdam it would be at least as long as it was when they left Japan. She still had a few big knots to get out of it. Somehow her hair tangled even more easily at sea than it did back in Japan. Mizu supposed that she could wear it long in England before cutting it off for the trip home to make her life easier.

“I used to have long hair.”

Do you miss it?” Mizu wondered if Ryo had shaved his head to look more like a man the same way mama had shaved her head as a child.

“Not enough to grow it back. I used to really like it, but when we had the rat infestation on our last trip to Japan, I noticed I had a short patch that looked chewed. I thought it was stress until I woke up in the middle of the night to a bunch of rats chewing my hair. I followed them, turns out they were using it to build their nest. I still have nightmares about it but hey, the rats can’t chew my hair if I don’t have any. Damn rats ate most of my clothes too. I’m not sure I could handle another infestation,” Ryo shuddered at the memory as he shaved the last bits of hair from the nape of his neck. He had the roundest head that Mizu had ever seen.

“Where was the nest?”

“Actually, it was right under your bunk,” Ryo pointed to Mizu’s bunk, “Huge nest, if you look under the bunk, you can see the wood is more than slightly chewed. Nothing to worry about though, the ship was cleaned before you got here.”

“I see.” Mizu got up to look under her bunk. It had never occurred to her to look for animal nests. Sure enough, there was no shortage of tooth and claw marks etched into the wood, “glad I wasn’t there.”

“No, you didn’t have to experience the rats. Just the pirates. You know Mizu, I’ve heard so many stories about you and Taigen as swordsmen, but I’ve never actually seen you fight before,” Ryo said. Mizu froze, realizing that now the whole crew of the ship had seen her for what she truly was. Mikio had seen her as a monster the first time he’d seen her with a sword in her hand. Would the crew feel the same?

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“Wait,” Ryo raised an eyebrow, looking at Mizu as though she’d grown a second head, “Are you apologising? For saving our lives? Why would anyone be mad at you for that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mizu sighed. No one on the ship had seen her as a demon, but that did not erase her memories of being known as nothing else, especially with a sword in her hand.

“Hey, I’d never see you that way,” Ryo rushed over to give her a hug, he was surprisingly forceful despite his small stature, “that’s not what friends do. You have friends here. And a fiancé, congrats about that.”

“Thanks.” Mizu was unsure how to respond, she awkwardly patted Ryo’s shoulder as though he were a large dog, “maybe this time I’ll figure out how to be a good wife.”

“Maybe this time you’ll have a better husband, I don’t know much about your first husband, but I haven’t heard anything good about him. Not that I know anything, I’ve never been married. Don’t want to either,” Ryo admitted, “you should talk to dad. He and mom are still happy with each other. I know a lot of couples who start to hate each other but not them, that’s what you’re scared of isn’t it?”

“I have something to lose,” Mizu admitted, both to Ryo and to herself.

“Hmmm, I might not know much about love, but I am an expert on gambling. And I know one thing, if you never bet you never lose, but you also never win,” Ryo explained. Risk. For any woman marriage was a risk. Not getting married was also a risk. Mizu was taking a risk. She was risking a future she never thought she had. One she now desperately wanted.

Chapter 74: Taigen

Notes:

As always I'm a world-class procrastinator so here comes another chapter!

Taigen was getting restless. Ten days after getting stabbed and he’d had enough of bedrest. Tohru had told him he needed another week of bedrest before slowly easing into small tasks. The first mate had warned that medical supplies on the ship were limited, and he was still at risk for the wound getting infected. Taigen had not stowed away on a ship going halfway around the world just to die from an infected stab wound. It would be an embarrassing way to die. If he was going to be stabbed to death, Taigen would prefer it be by a great warrior in a legendary battle rather than an unskilled pirate in the middle of the ocean. Even Tohru had noted the jagged shallow wound was a last act of desperation with no thought or skill behind it.

If nothing else, his days were starting to form a routine. He would wake up to the cook puttering about in the kitchen, followed by breakfast. After eating, Tohru would clean and check his wound before changing the bandages and forcing him to nap until lunch, which Johannes gleefully enforced. Lunch lead into language lessons with the cook and eventually dinner. The evenings were the highlight of his day because Mizu would come to visit him.

Tonight was no different, not long after Johannes had finished with the dishes, Mizu came up to the kitchen from her bunk. The cook offered them tea. Mizu accepted, bringing it over for them to drink. Being stuck on the ship had forced Taigen to appreciate the quiet moments when they had them. Before crossing paths with Mizu at the dojo, he’d chased the prestige and glory of being a great warrior and making his way up in the world. He thought of Lord Tokunobu and Heiji Shindo and Abijah Fowler. They’d chased prestige, fortune, power, and it had turned them into petty and miserable men. Taigen knew he was skilled with a sword, he knew Mizu was a great warrior. He didn’t want either of them to die in battle, but he followed her, nonetheless.

“How’s the wound?” She asked.

“Painful, but it’s healing. Tohru thinks it probably won’t get infected. Still hate that I can’t do anything, we’re not even married yet and I’m already a useless husband,” Taigen lamented. At this, Mizu burst into laughter. To think, if he had killed her to get his honour back, he’d have missed out on the warmth in her smile and the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

“You make it sound like you’re an old man swatting flies,” Mizu teased.

“I’d rather be that than an old man who drinks all day and terrorizes his family.” Taigen thought of his father. He had been the sort of man who thought the world owed him things and took his resentment out on those around him. Taigen had nearly fallen down that path. Crossing swords with Mizu at the dojo had likely saved him from becoming such a man.

“If you do that, you won’t live to become an old man,” Mizu’s eyes narrowed, she took a sip of her tea.

“My father didn’t. Took us a day to realize he was dead, we all thought he was passed out drunk again until the flies started swarming around him and Kaguya finally checked. He still smelled of alcohol.” Taigen remembered his sister poking his father’s unresponsive corpse with a chopstick. They’d both screamed when he fell over, unresponsive. Their mother had seemed unbothered by the fact; she’d gone right back to making dinner.

“Don’t do that to me,” she looked at him sadly.

“I won’t, it’s a miserable life. I have no idea how to be a good husband but if I become that…honestly just shoot me and put me out of my misery,” becoming his father was the worst thing that could happen to him, worse than dying, worse than being tortured.

“I’ll remember that, not that I was any good at being a wife.” Mizu picked at her fingernails.

“Who am I to judge?” Taigen shrugged, “I’ve never been married before. Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve already seen the worst of each other.”

“You’ve never tasted my cooking.”

“Ringo can teach us both,” Taigen suggested. Dojo chores had left him with the basic ability to feed himself, but he was by no means a good cook, “think Ringo will get married while we’re in England?”

“Someone will see greatness in him. I don’t know who or when.”

“You sound like Master Eiji.”

“He did raise me; I owe him so much.” Mizu stretched her arms; she was still seated next to the head of his cot. With a sword in her hand, she was a deadly warrior. Otherwise, she was quiet, and more awkward than anything with her long limbs and lack of experience around people. It was hard to believe both versions of her existed at the same time in the same body. Taigen loved both.

“He wants you to live,” Taigen brushed her grown-out bangs behind her ear, “also I think he hates me.”

“He says you’re trouble,” she teased.

“I didn’t exactly leave a great impression at the forge.” Taigen cringed at the memory. He’d been so cruel to Mizu and so confused by his own feelings about her back then. He was certain that Master Eiji had picked up on everything.

“You did not. It won’t be easy for you to change his mind about you, he’s stubborn that way.” Mizu took a final sip of her tea. He’d forgotten about his, it was probably cold by now.

“Well, guess I have my work cut out for me when we get back to Japan. He’ll warm up to me, eventually. Maybe you can put in a good word for me?” He kissed Mizu’s forehead and smiled watching the redness creep into her cheeks.

“I’ll think about it. Say, Taigen, what do you want when all of this is over, if we survive-”

“We will survive, we’re both too stubborn to die.” Taigen could hear Johannes laughing from the other side of the kitchen.

“But then what? If we make it back to Japan. If they let us back in the country. What do you want?” Mizu studied him, he could see a hint of fear behind her eyes.

“I don’t know, I haven’t figured out the details. I know what I don’t want: I don’t want to be a sailor, I don’t want to be a fisherman, I don’t want to be a drunk. The only thing I know I want in my life is you, Mizu. I’ve known that for a while, might as well make it official.” In truth, that was why he’d asked her to marry him, it was the easiest way for them to have a life together. Mizu smiled and kissed him, a moment that felt like forever until the cook came over to lecture him about being on bedrest.

Chapter 75: Ringo

Notes:

We're officially at the 75 chapter and 100,000 word milestones for this fic! Holy crap!!! I can't believe it. If you've made it this far thank you so much for reading, if you have any words of wisdom feel free to share them. Also I feel it was time for a Ringo chapter as I've never written anything from his point of view. Hope you enjoy!

Master Eiji needed to get out more. As much as the old swordsmith was a master of his craft, he was a stubborn old man who took just good enough care of himself so that he could continue working. If Ringo didn’t talk to him, the man could go days without uttering a single word. ‘I’m a swordsmith, not a wordsmith,’ he’d argued. Master Eiji insisted on at least one hour of working in silence per day. No chatting, no singing, no humming, just silence. Ringo hated silence. Growing up, silence meant someone was mad at him and was still figuring out how to punish him for what he did wrong.

Ringo took it upon himself to do most of the cooking and cleaning around the forge. He wanted to be useful, yes, but Master Eiji had such low standards for everything outside of his work. He had more than enough money for new clothes but would repair the same set of dingy grey clothes until they were threadbare, washing them only when they had a client or the smell became unbearable.

He was no cook either. One morning, Master Eiji had treated Ringo to his favourite congee. It was chewy, burned, and gelatinous all at once. The man clearly hadn’t starved but along with being blind, Ringo wondered if he was also missing a sense of taste. When he’d first met Mizu, he’d assumed her terrible habits were a product of her dedication to her revenge quest. In truth, most of them were a product of being Master Eiji’s apprentice.

Despite this, Ringo enjoyed working for Master Eiji. It was like working with Mizu but with less stabbing. Both were better than home. While Master Eiji would give him a correcting bonk on the head with his tongs at times, he never hit him when he was in a bad mood. Not once did the old swordsmith call him ‘stumpy’ or ‘noodle-brain’ or ‘a pathetic excuse for a son’ the way his own father had. He just focused on the task at hand, guiding Ringo where he could. Ringo figured it was what being Mizu’s apprentice would have been like if she were less angry and stopped hating herself.

Like Mizu, Master Eiji didn’t go out of his way to interact with people. He rarely left the forge. If he had more than a handful of grains stuck to the bottom of his sack of rice or millet, then he would not go into town to buy a new one. In the past few months, Ringo had gone into town a few times. Taigen had talked about Kohama like it was the worst place in Japan while Mizu said nearly nothing, grimacing the few times it got brought up. The first time Ringo had walked through Kohama he’d half-expected it to be a horrific place filled with demons. The demons were Mizu’s and Taigen’s. The town was just a town. A small, run-down village by the coast, nothing more and nothing less. If Ringo had been seeking adventure in Kohama he would have been disappointed.

“We should go into town,” Ringo had suggested.

“Is it truly necessary? We still have half a bag of millet.” Master Eiji pointed to the kitchen.

“I know, but we’re low on flour and I was hoping to make noodles. Momo gave me some vegetables from her garden, and I think they’d go best in a soup!” Ringo had visited the town midwife the other day. Despite living alone in the woods, her house was the closest place to the forge and like Ringo, she was a chatterbox. Along with her medical garden, she raised chickens and grew vegetables and was happy to share eggs and vegetables with anyone who dropped by. Other than patients, Ringo suspected she didn’t get a lot of visitors as half the town thought she was a witch.

“Did she now?”

“She did! My first friend in Kohama, well, not really in town because we’re both far away from everything but close enough. Unless you count Mizu, but Mizu isn’t actually from Kohama, she just grew up here. Taigen’s from Kohama so I guess he’s my first friend from Kohama, but I didn’t meet him in Kohama, so I guess Momo really is my first friend I met in Kohama,” Ringo argued, mostly to himself.

“You’ve made your share of friends,” Master Eiji noted, leaning on his walking stick.

“Yeah, but Mizu went to London and Taigen followed her. I hope they’re doing okay and haven’t killed each other. If you leave them along for too long, they start fighting and they’re stuck on a boat together,” Ringo hoped they were managing to get along. From Mizu’s letter it sounded like she was happy Taigen was with her. Maybe they’d found a fragile peace between them.

“That boy is trouble,” Master Eiji shook his head.

“I don’t think he’ll hurt her; Mizu can take just about anyone in a fight. Not that it’s a good idea to have a swordfight on a wooden ship. They might sink to the bottom of the ocean and drown if they make too many holes in the boat,” Mizu might not have brought a sword with her on board the ship, but Ringo had seen her make do with everything from chopsticks to kitchen knives. If she needed a weapon, she could find one easily.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” the old swordsmith frowned.

“Oh?” Ringo raised an eyebrow, unsure what he was alluding to.

“I’m scared he’ll break her heart,” Master Eiji confessed, sounding more like a father than anything else.

“Huh, I never thought about that,” Ringo blinked, “I guess you know Mizu better than I do. That makes sense, you knew her for years. She’s so much like you. Focused and brilliant and never gives up but also needs to be reminded to eat and wash her underwear-” Ringo paused, he’d gone to far. He froze, expecting him to hit him as his father often did. Instead, Master Eiji burst into laughter.

“Is she now?”

“Oh yes, you can’t see it because you’re blind, but she makes a lot of the same facial expressions as you too. She needs to be reminded to take breaks, just like you, which is why we should go into town more often. Get some fresh air and see some new faces! It’ll be fun!” Ringo offered. Master Eiji paused for a moment.

“It’s a bit late for today, the sun will set soon, but perhaps tomorrow it might be nice to go for a walk into town. A quiet walk,” he suggested.

“You won’t regret it Master Eiji, we can finally try those fish dumplings Taigen says is the only good thing about Kohama.” A small victory, but one Ringo was grateful for. Looking out the window the sun was getting low in the sky. Master Eiji had a point about waiting for tomorrow to walk into town.

“It means nothing to me, but I have always wondered, is Mizu truly as ugly as she claims?” At this Ringo took a moment to think. He’d never thought of her in that way. To Ringo, Mizu had first been a fearsome warrior, reluctant mentor, and eventually a trusted confidante. For all her flaws, Mizu had been the first person he’d met who didn’t look down on him for his lack of hands or lack of wits. Ringo had never thought less of her for her eyes. The sailors on the boat she left Japan on had no problem with them either. He wondered if she’d find acceptance outside of the country. And if she did whether she’d ever come back.

“Not ugly, just different. People don’t like different. I know that from trying new soba recipes at my dad’s restaurant. Lots of people threw soup at me even if the noodles were better than the usual ones.” Ringo still had nightmares of peeling noodles off the walls.

“I see,” Master Eiji nodded, as though Ringo had confirmed a long-held suspicion of his. He went back to puttering around the forge as Ringo got started in dinner,

“Master Eiji,” Ringo asked, “do you think we’ll ever see Mizu again?” He thought back to her letter. She’d used her words sparingly, as Ringo had come to expect, coldly cataloging the events of her life and the revelation of who she truly was. Even if Mizu made it to England, it would be months if not a year before any letter she sent would arrive. From the sound of it she’d lost her desire for revenge and just wanted to come home but had to face her family in order to have a chance at peace. The Mizu he’d waved goodbye to on the docks of Nagasaki had not believed a peaceful life was in her future, the Mizu who’d wrote to them from Batavia appeared to want nothing else.

“Her soul is stubborn, but the journey is long. If she returns to us, it will not be unchanged. But perhaps,” he sighed, staring sadly at the floor, “perhaps my apprentice will find peace.”

Chapter 76: Fowler

Notes:

And it's time for another Fowler chapter, thank you for reading!

It was far too easy to lose track of time. Locked in his cage, day in, day out, if Fowler hadn’t been marking the days on the inside of his cell, he would not have been able to keep track of how long they had been on the ship. It had been months since they left Japan and likely months until they reached the Dutch Republic. How Mizu planned to get them from there to London was a mystery as well. If the Dutch East India Company decided to keep Fowler as a prisoner, there wasn’t much that Mizu could do about it. Even Fowler knew better than to make enemies of the powerful merchants of the Dutch Republic. For all they knew, the Dutch and English had gone back to fighting each other in the time since they’d left Japan. European politics were going to be a rude awakening for Mizu. Watching her flounder through them would be enjoyable enough to watch once they got to Europe. Knowing her, at some point she’d stab enough people to piss off someone important and have to deal with the consequences of her bloodlust.

Whatever entertainment would come from watching Mizu experience culture shock in Europe was still months away. For now, Fowler had to settle for riling up whoever brought him his meal tray. None of the sailors liked him, though some were more afraid of him than others. Fowler loved the sound of hesitant footsteps, deep anxious breaths as well of the sight of fear hiding behind their eyes when they came to feed him and clean out the lone bucket he’d been given to piss and shit in. At times he got fresh sheets and once a week a basin of water and some soap to keep him from stinking too much. He’d grown a beard in captivity, no one trusted him with a razor. Still, he’d survive. Once Fowler got back to London and handed Mizu off to her uncle to keep as a curiosity, he could have all the baths his heart desired. Perhaps he’d even pay her a visit in one of Routley’s brothels.

No one had given Fowler the full story about what had happened with the ship in the night he’d seen the boat arrive from off in the distance. They’d been boarded by what Fowler presumed were pirates. There’d been a fight above his head, and the pirate were dealt with before they’d had a chance to reach the cargo hold of the ship. Fowler had heard screaming and gunshots. He almost felt sorry for the pirates, wherever they were from. The poor men were looking for a quick payout from a Dutch merchant vessel and had the misfortune to come across the one vessel in the entire ocean that happened to have a swordsman as fearsome as Mizu as a passenger. Fowler wished he could have watched her maul the pirates as a break from his monotony. Alas, he was alone with his imagination.

Fowler’s day was dull as ever, at least until Mizu came down into the cargo hold to bring him dinner.

“I see you’re trying your western side on for size,” he noted, watching Mizu. Whoever the pirates had been, they must have been wearing European clothes. Mizu had pilfered an outfit; she had on a shirt, vest, and breaches as opposed to her usual Japanese clothing. Fowler suspected it was her first time wearing them. She also had a sword at her belt, a western sword.

“It fits well enough, might as well get used to it,” Mizu frowned grimly.

“You really do have your father’s build Mizu. Same long, thin bones that look as though they could so easily snap, but like you, he was stronger than he looked,” Fowler studied Mizu in her western clothes. They were tighter than her regular ones and did little to hide her tall, slim frame. She had just enough curves that she would need baggier clothes to pass as a man. Her body must have been a sore spot for her, something Fowler always kept in mind.

Fowler hadn’t thought much of Mizu’s father, nor had anyone else. He’d been yet another palace guards whose name Fowler couldn’t be assed to remember. Mizu’s father had been a tall, gangly man. Like Mizu he had unusual eyes though his had been amber rather than blue. Fowler suspected he was also a mongrel, but his features were inoffensive enough for both them and him to be ignored. No one had thought twice about him, though perhaps that came with the profession of being a guard. Fowler couldn’t remember the names of any of his own staff, both protectors and captors from his life in Japan.

“Do I now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you certainly don’t have your mother’s, she was soft, in both body and spirit. Truly a lovely woman, though I did get tired of listening to her scream after a while,” at this, Mizu grasped the hilt of her sword, “I see, you’re growing comfortable with western weapons. First a gun, now this. Your thirst for revenge by any means has grown stronger than that foolish Japanese sense of honour your people have. Sometimes I wish you were mine.” Fowler sighed. It was good to see Mizu angry again.

“They’re different, western swords,” Mizu pulled the sword out of its sheath. It was a long, thin sword that suited her well. Judging by the ornate handle and quality of the metal, Fowler suspected had once hung as a decoration in the hall of some rich pompous idiot before being pilfered by pirates and now coming into Mizu’s hands.

“In name perhaps, this one’s called a rapier, but not in function. Swords are an awful lot like people you see, they might look a little different, but they all serve the same purpose. Stabbing is universal. It’s not your pretty blue sword but stab a man with this one and he’ll bleed out all the same,” Fowler took a last sip of his tea, “how does it feel Mizu, wearing western clothes with a western sword in your hands. Do you feel as though you’re wearing a monster’s skin?” he taunted.

“A tool is a tool, you said it yourself, my thirst for revenge is stronger than any sense of honour I might have had,” she replied flatly, holding her hand out to take back his empty tray.

“You’re learning well, perhaps you might survive in London longer than I thought love.” Fowler slid the tray back through the slit in his cage. Even after months at sea, Mizu continued to be full of surprised. Likely there was more to come. A curiosity indeed, her uncle would have no trouble finding a use for her. Fowler looked forward to finding out exactly what that would be. It would make his time in a cage worth the trouble.

Chapter 77: Mizu

Notes:

New week, new chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

Surprisingly, western clothing did not make Mizu feel as though she was wearing a demon’s skin. When she first left Japan, Fowler had taunted her with the notion that once they got to London, she would have to make herself look as English as possible or risk attracting unwanted attention. He was right of course, but at the time the idea had made Mizu squirm. She’d spent her entire life hiding the demonic, western aspects of her appearance, especially her eyes, but in London these would be the only parts of her anyone would accept. She would wear demon clothes, and masquerade as one of them, as though she was anything more than an unwanted impure demon with no place in the world and no task beyond ending the lives of those who had brought her into the world.

Seeing the world had changed her perception of it. Mizu had only conceived of two kinds of people in her mind: the Japanese and white devils. Batavia had been a shock. People came in many different shapes and sizes, their skin could be many different colours, and their features varied depending on where they were from in the world. A much larger world than she had ever thought possible. Mizu had walked around Batavia without her glasses, the only person to look twice at her eyes had been her father. Another surprise that city had held for her.

From there, all assumptions she had held about the world had shattered completely. The quality of a man’s character had little to do with where they were from. Londoners were not monsters as a result of their being from London; her mother had not been one. Touching English soil would not immediately turn Mizu one either. Wearing western clothing was not, in fact, wearing the skin of a demon. It was, however, unfamiliar.

The crew had kept the clothes and valuables collected from the dead pirates. From there, Mizu picked up the clothes she was wearing. There wasn’t much, mainly weapons including the long, thin sword she had kept for herself. Fowler had called it a rapier. Mizu would have to learn more about western swords when they got to London. Still, the sword was light, well crafted, and fit comfortably in her hand. The steel that contained her soul remained a lump in Swordfather’s forge, but this would meet her needs until she was worthy of Master Eiji’s artistry to restore it. Sword or no, as far as Mizu was concerned, she was already being reforged by the journey. Who she would be by the time she made it back to Japan was a question that only time could answer.

Walking back into the kitchen after feeding Fowler his dinner, she took a moment to look at herself in large mirror hanging on the wall. Mizu put the tray down and took a good look at her reflection. The pirate she’d taken the clothes off of had been both smaller and slighter than her, but they fit well enough to wear on the ship. The shirt was white, or at least it had been at the start of the day with long sleeves and a loose ruffled collar. The vest and short pants, or sleeveless doublet and breeches as Johannes had called them, were a light brown with brass buttons. They didn’t impede her movement in any meaningful way. The clothes did not make Mizu feel like a monster, but they did not succeed in making her look like a man. The vest was tight enough on her to emphasise the few curves she did have. Between that and her calves being bare she felt exposed. Still, she did not mind how they looked on her.

“So, do you feel like a pirate?” Johannes teased as he’d done in the morning when she’d first put the clothes on.

“No, just a foreigner. It’s not as bad as I expected but I guess I’ll have to get used to it.” Mizu shook her head.

“If you want to pretend to be a man in the West, then yes,” the cook explained, taking Fowler’s tray to wash with the last of the dishes.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll pass as one in London.” She knew what the Japanese would expect a man to look like but despite seeing Westerners in the colonies, Mizu had no idea what the English would see when they looked at her.

“Londoners will see you as a foreigner before they see anything else. But you’re right, you’ll need looser clothes to pass as a man. Those won’t be hard to find. Plus, London’s cold and wet, you’ll need a coat, hat, and a good pair of boots either way. If you wish to live as a man all or part of the time, it won’t be hard to make it work,” Johannes smirked, “my sister and brother-in-law are a dressmaker and tailor respectively, they’ll have fun getting you clothes.” Other than mama who had picked out the clothes she found least offensive on her and Swordfather who was blind, Mizu could not remember anyone making or picking out clothes for her. The closest was Taigen buying her a scarf in Batavia. It was her favourite scarf.

“My hair’s alright?” Mizu had tied it up in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, her grown-out bangs tucked behind her ears. She’d seen western men wear a variety of lengths and styles when it came to their hair but most who had long hair wore theirs down. She untied her hair and shook it out.

“I don’t see why not, most men would wear their down if they wear it long, but for you I’d advise against it. You look quite elegant with your hair down, but it’ll be harder to pass as a man in your case,” the cook advised. Looking back into the mirror, Mizu didn’t mind the reflection staring back at her, however it was undoubtably a woman’s reflection rather than a man’s regardless of the clothes she was wearing.

“Can I be both?” she asked. There were times where living as a man was certainly useful, but after her time on the ship, Mizu was unsure if she wanted to live as one all the time in London. She’d lived as a man for much of her life only lived briefly as a woman when it was convenient for mama but never both at the same time.

“Both what?” Johannes raised an eyebrow.

“A man in some places, a woman in others?” Mizu pictured herself in woman’s clothes based on what she’d seen in the colonies. She felt silly doing so, and yet, at least once she wanted to try them out.

“Hmmmm,” he paused for a moment, “I don’t see why not. You’ll just need extra clothes is all. Cornelia has more dresses than she’ll even need, it would not be hard for her to alter a few of them to fit you. I’m sure she’d be happy to share her old servant clothes she no longer has a need for. Most women have their hair pinned up under a cap so you can do with it what you will, and most people won’t look too hard at you anyways. I should warn you now, my sisters will want to dress you up when we get to Amsterdam. Agata and Cornelia can get a little frightening once they set their mind to something.”

“I guess it will be good practice for when I meet my own sisters.” Right. She had three half-sisters who may or may not know of her existence.

“Perhaps, but every family is different. Best not to have expectations.” Johannes put away the last of the dishes.

“I was wrong about who my parents were, whatever I think about my sisters I’ll probably be wrong as well. Do you think they hate me? Because I exist? For taking their mother away?”

“You didn’t take anything Mizu,” Johannes crossed his arms, “whatever they might feel about you has nothing to do with who you are.”

“I guess I’ll find out when I get to London,” Mizu sighed. Man, woman, whoever she chose to present herself as, it changed nothing about confrontations that awaited her once she arrived.

Chapter 78: Mizu

Notes:

I'm lying in my bed like a sickly Victorian maiden making the best of a difficult week but writing is a good distraction so hope you enjoy the chapter.

For some reason, Ryo was insistent on sewing Mizu a wedding kimono. Despite never wanting to get married himself, her bunkmate had a fondness for weddings. Growing up in Nagasaki, he’d attended his share of weddings while the only one Mizu had attended was her own and she’d only put up with it for mama’s sake. Mizu hadn’t thought much about the wedding. She’d weighed the benefits and detriments of the marriage itself and decided it was worth the risk but was indifferent about the ceremony itself. If both she and Taigen did manage to survive their trip to London and built a life for themselves back in Japan, she doubted either of them would spend much of their time thinking back to the actual wedding.

Getting married again, it would mark the third occasion in her life where Mizu had worn a wedding kimono, though she hoped it would not end up as drenched in blood as her last one had on Mikio’s farm. She’d waited for the blood to dry before peeling it off of her and burning it, sobbing the entire time. Mizu remembered washing off the blood and makeup as though she were washing off her womanhood forever.

Mizu pushed the memories to the back of her mind and took a deep breath as Ryo adjusted his stool. The ship’s kitchen was well-lit by the windows and had both a mirror and stools for Ryo to stand on. According to Ryo it was important to get her measurements right, so the kimono fit her properly. Mizu had never had a kimono that fit her well, they were always second-hand and not constructed with her height in mind.

“Johannes, I need you help,” Ryo pleaded as the cook stirred a pot of stew, “I need to get Mizu’s measurements and I’m too short to measure her.” He jumped up and down for dramatic effect.

“Measurements? Why are we measuring her?” the cook asked. Taigen looked on from his cot. His wounds were healing steadily but he was still largely confined to the kitchen. It surprised Mizu how much she missed his presence around the ship. Marrying him really was the best excuse she had to keep him around.

“For a wedding kimono, Mizu should have one and I’ve made them before. I just need to get her measurements so I can make something that fits her,” Ryo explained, “I can make it out of old sheets from the storage room. It’s not exactly silk but it’s something.” Mizu could feel her cheeks redden; she bit her lip. Taigen coughed nervously.

“I’ve been in and out of the old storage room moving ropes around. Everything in there is covered in dust, anything you take out of there needs a wash or we’ll spend the whole wedding coughing.” Taigen grimaced. Neither of them wanted to admit to the rest of the crew that they’d had sex in there.

“Oh, there’s likely more than just dust in there,” Johannes ran back to give the stew another stir before helping Ryo set up his measuring tape, “for all we know there’s weevils and mold. It’s never smelled good in there. Washing the fabric in there is a good plan, I’m no expert on marriage but I can’t imagine starting one off with a strange rash and insect bites good for anyone.”

“Maybe I should wash the fabric before sewing anything, last thing I need is a weird rash and insect bites,” Ryo took the measuring tape out, him and Johannes taking her measurements, with Ryo making notes of her proportions, “did you have a wedding kimono for your first marriage?” he asked.

“I did,” she bit her lip, “the woman who raised me must have found one somewhere. I wore it twice,” the old wound still bled, Mizu supposed it would not hurt to share the story. She took a deep breath, “once for the wedding, once when I offended my husband and wanted to prove I could be a proper wife.”

“Judging by the fact you’re no longer married to him I’m assuming it did not go as planned,” the cook frowned.

“He found out there was a bounty on my head and sent for men to come and kill me,” Mizu sighed. The sight of Mikio on his horse looking at her for a moment before riding away still haunted a corner of her soul. Ryo gasped at the revelation.

“Well, I think that is a bit of an overreaction.” Johannes went back to the stew, this time adding a dried fish into the pot.

“Seriously Mizu? He did that?” Taigen looked up in horror. She hadn’t told him this part of the story before, “I’ve seen you kill bounty hunters, if your husband thought whatever men were looking for you stood a chance he must not have known you at all. You ripped through the Shindo dojo like a typhoon,” he added, an odd sense of pride in his voice.

“It would have been a peaceful visit were anyone willing to give me the answers that I sought.” Mizu felt no guilt over her actions at the dojo. She hadn’t stared any fights, just walked into a room of overconfident men who thought the swords in their hands made them heroes.

“Speaking of the Shindo dojo, is there any chance I could borrow clothes from someone for the wedding? Crossing swords at the dojo brought Mizu and I together, but I’d rather get married in anything else.” Mizu couldn’t help but laugh softly at his request. He’d been running around in his dojo clothes since their duel in the winter.

“I actually do have a set of nice Japanese clothes that would likely fit you, a gift from Kyoto. You can borrow them for the wedding,” Johannes offered. Mizu stretched her arms out as Ryo and the cook measured her arm span before moving on to measure her height.

“Let me guess, Seki gave you those.”

“Akemi’s tutor?” Mizu had briefly met the man when she rescued Akemi from her father’s men, “I wonder what he’d think about us getting married?” At some point Akemi would find out. Mizu hoped she’d take it well; it was not as though she hadn’t had a chance to run away on her own terms.

“I became acquainted with the princess’s tutor while in Kyoto. He was a fine man and wanted the best for his princess, sorry Taigen but that was never going to be you,” Johannes explained, “he would be happy to see you marry someone else on the other side of the world.” With that, everyone in the room broke into laughter. Including Taigen. Ryo took a few final notes.

“Alright!” Ryo closed his notebook. Mizu, I have your proportions, I can draft out a pattern, cut out the fabric, and sew it all together. Hopefully I’ll get this done, I have just over a month, but it is a lot of sewing to do on my own.”

“I can help with the sewing,” Taigen offered, “I have nowhere to go, and I can’t really do anything else right now except learn Dutch.” At this, Mizu’s eyes widened.

“You would do that for me?”

“We learned basic sewing at the dojo. And Mizu, I’m going insane, all I do is lie in this cot and watch weevils crawl in and out of hardtack boxes. This is a great distraction.” As if on cue, a swarm of bugs scuttled out of a hardtack crate, “Last night I had a dream the damn weevils ate my fingernails.” Taigen checked his hands. Mizu felt a twinge of guilt.

“Heiji Shindo did a number on you.”

“Yeah, another reason I’m tired of wearing his family’s logo. But do you know what the worst part was?” Taigen asked.

“I don’t,” Mizu admitted.

“He didn’t even torture me himself. He got his goons to do it while he just sat there, drinking and watching like a fucking coward,” he glowered. Taigen had been in terrible shape when Mizu had pulled him out of Fowler’s dungeon.

“He sounds like Mizu’s husband, wanting to kill her but not wanting to do it himself,” Ryo suggested.

“There’s no shortage of men like that, who do harm but refuse to personally get their hands dirty. VOC management often that way, you’ll meet plenty of them in London as well,” Johannes warned. Mizu had no respect for such men, men who profited off the suffering of others from afar, who viewed the lives of others as though they were nothing. She thought about Fowler’s bastards, their skeletons littering the passage into his castle. For all of Taigen’s flaws he was an honest man, if he wanted to kill her, he would do it himself. He did not want to kill her anymore; he lost the desire once he got to know her. They’d seen each other at their worst. Unlike with Mizu’s first marriage, this time she knew what she was in for.

Chapter 79: Taigen

Notes:

I realize we are way overdue for a Taigen chapter.

The steps leading out to the deck of the ship had always creaked. The old wood bore the repetitive steps of sailors running up and down for many years. Taigen knew this, and yet it surprised him how loud they actually were. Unsteady on his feet, after weeks of being confined to the kitchen, he made his way up to the deck of the ship.

Tohru had checked his wounds regularly and now, after several weeks of limited movement, he was cleared to move freely around the ship and was healed enough for certain light activities. Along with sewing and learning Dutch, Taigen could add eating meals with the crew and helping Johannes clean dishes to his day. According to the ship’s first mate, Taigen could slowly ease back into daily life but was still banned from any straining physical activity for the next few months. No training, no sparring, and he and Mizu would have to get creative when it came to sex if they had any at all. He’d made peace with the fact that his wedding night was probably going to be dull.

One step at a time, Taigen made his way up to the deck of the ship. The stars were still out and the was only the faintest glow of light on the horizon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air was salty and clean but most importantly fresh. He’d not had the luxury of fresh air in weeks, just the stale kitchen air with the smell of tea, salt pork, and boiled hardtack. He was tired of the kitchen. When Johannes admitted that he didn’t actually like cooking very much Taigen understood completely.

“Looks like the sun’s about to rise.” Mizu was sitting on the deck, staring towards the East. Last night Taigen had suggested they watch the sunrise together, now that he was allowed to leave the kitchen. She’d made it up to the deck of the ship before him.

“Never thought I’d miss them smell of salt.” Taigen sat down beside her.

“Next thing you know, you’ll miss the smell of fish guts,” Mizu smirked.

“Anything’s better than salt pork, I’m just glad to be up here. I haven’t been up here since I got stabbed.”

“The crew’s missed you.” Taigen had gotten a fair number of visitors in the kitchen over the past few weeks. He wondered from time to time if anyone still thought of him back at the dojo.

“I can’t wait to eat with everyone again. It’s nice, being with people. Are you used to sharing meals with them?” He would miss the crew once he got to London, Taigen hoped he’d at least get to see them again on the trip home.

“I am, I’ve never felt safe enough to let my guard down this way.” Mizu stretched out her long legs. With the glow of light at the horizon, Taigen could see her better. Back in Japan he hadn’t ever considered her to be the sort of person capable of being relaxed and comfortable the way she was this morning. Whatever home they built together, Taigen would do his best to ensure it was one where she had a space to be herself.

“I’m glad you do,” Taigen wrapped his arm around her, “I feel like I always have so much more to learn; about you, about everything. Did you know there was a shrine on the ship? If Daisuke never brought it up, I don’t think I would have found out,” Taigen admitted. The captain had suggested the small shrine near the bottom of the ship as a place to hold the wedding ceremony. All these years of trying to escape being a fisherman’s son and he would end up getting married on a boat.

“I go there every so often to pray for Swordfather’s health,” Mizu explained, “I’ll have to write him and Ringo to tell them about the marriage once we get to Amsterdam.” She leaned into him and played with his hair.

“Think you’ll want to take over the forge when we get back to Japan?” Taigen asked.

“I don’t know, we’ll see what happens in London. Assuming we’re allowed back into Japan I’d have to think about it. Otherwise, I guess we’ll go to Batavia.” Right. There was a chance the Japanese authorities might not let them back in the country.

“We’ll make things work. My Dutch is getting good, I’m sure I could get a job somewhere in Batavia, or at the Dejima if we do get back into Japan. Anything’s fine, well, almost anything. I know I’ll never be a samurai again, and I don’t want to be a sailor or a fisherman. If Ringo opens a noodle shop and I spend my days washing dishes in the back of it then I can live with that.” In truth, Taigen hadn’t put much thought into what sort of work he could get once they got to London and beyond. He’d stowed away on Mizu’s ship and hoped for the best.

“We’ll eat well, if that happens.” Mizu smiled.

“No more hardtack,” they both laughed at the thought, “your wedding kimono is coming along. Ryo’s sewn most of it. I’ve made a sleeve and a half.” To think, the wedding was only a few weeks away.

“We’re almost in Goree. If you want to have an engagement party where you get drunk and lose a fight to a rogue swordsman, you’ll have a chance to do it there,” she teased. He really had made an ass of himself back in Kyoto.

“I already did that last time. What I am looking forward to is a bath.” He’d kept the wounds clean but having a proper bath was a luxury for dry land.

“I could use one too,” Mizu noted. Taigen hoped she would find a bathhouse rather than wander into the jungle for a pond for once but knew better than to get his hopes up.

“At least we’ll have clean clothes for the wedding. I think I want to keep my hair like this too. I don’t think I’m ready to grow it out properly and according to Johannes it’ll be fine in Europe.”

“It’s nice.” Mizu brushed the hair out of his eyes. The hardest part of cutting his hair was accepting that he’d never be a samurai again, dishonoured or otherwise. Physically, Taigen had found it awkward at first, but over the past few months, his hair had grown out enough to look good and he’d made peace with himself.

“I used to think I only had two paths in the world, become my father, or take the path of a samurai and die trying to get out,” Taigen confessed. Looking to the East he could see the golden glow of the sun coming up over the horizon.

“Where’s your path now?” Mizu asked.

“To London, with you.” Taigen pulled her in, kissing her cheek and enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face.

Chapter 80: Taigen

Notes:

This chapter lives up to the M-rating of the fic.

They would reach Goree within the week. After nearly three months at sea, reaching land would be a welcome respite from the open ocean. According to Johannes, the small island off the coast of Senegal was an important trading outpost for the Dutch. Taigen assumed it was similar to Cape Town, but he could learn more about the place in the month they’d be stuck there while the ship was being repaired. Taigen hated not being healed enough to work on it, but he’d have to keep himself busy with cleaning the kitchen and learning Dutch. His sewing project was complete. Ryo was putting the final touches on Mizu’s wedding kimono, and he looked forward to seeing her wear it.

Were they in Japan, the first chill would be in the air during the morning and evening, a whisper of cooler temperatures to come. The first leaves at the edges of the trees would begin to fade into their fall colours and the harvest would approach. Taigen wondered if there would be fall in England. Most of the tropics did not seem to have four seasons, they had two: wet and dry. Cape Town had four seasons, but being at the bottom of the world, they were at opposite times of the year as the seasons in Japan.

Part of Taigen wished they could have gotten married in Japan. Knowing Mizu, she’d want a quiet ceremony somewhere in the countryside. Taigen imagined a small shrine in the woods in the mountains or by the sea. He’d always enjoyed the fall, even as a kid in Kohama. His father was often too busy preparing for winter that he’d forget to beat him when he got home from drinking. Autumn was beautiful in Kyoto as well. Taigen wondered if he would ever be able to show his face in that city again. By the time they would get back to Japan it would be several years and he suspected everyone would have forgotten about him. Mizu had hated Kyoto; it would be nice to take her back there and try to sell her on the city’s charms.

For now, Taigen was content. He doubted marriage would change much about their relationship, but he liked the idea of making things official. They were so far from home. Being married would connect him and Mizu in the foreign land they were heading towards and once they got back to Japan, she’d be the only person he’d have shared this journey with. Taigen couldn’t think of anyone else he loved enough to build a life with. He aspired to be a better husband to Mizu than her first one, though not selling his wife out to bounty hunters seemed a ridiculously low bar. No, he was confident they would find a way to be happy together.

Still sleeping on a cot in the kitchen, healing was slow but steady. Johannes had no problem putting him to work with light chores in the kitchen. He had planned to help the cook with his dinner dishes. Johannes, exhausted as he was from his months of managing the kitchen had left a pot of stew on the stove all afternoon and forgotten about it. Johannes rarely forgot anything, but he’d found a massive dead spider in one of the hardtack boxes and with Taigen, had to check every single box of hardtack in the kitchen. The stew had boiled down to burnt, sticky lumps at the bottom of the pot. The cook had left the ghost of a stew in the pot to start dinner over but now dinner had ended, and it was time to confront the beast at the bottom of the pot. Johannes had grumbled about needing some air and had gone to scrub out the mess on the deck of the ship. Taigen suspected he would not see the cook for a while.

Thus, when Mizu had come for her nightly visit, it was just the two of them alone in the kitchen. She’d taken her shoes off and let her hair down before sitting next to him on his cot.

“Is Johannes okay? He’s up on deck scrubbing a pot like it owes him money.” Mizu grimaced.

“He’ll be fine, we found a big spider with the hardtack and had to check all the boxes, so he forgot about the stew, and it boiled into the pot,” Taigen explained.

“Find anything else in the boxes.” Mizu pointed up to the hardtack.

“Couple of cockroaches, a mouse, a few more spiders, and more weevils than we could count.” It had been an unpleasant afternoon.

“You should have saved them for Fowler’s dinner. He’s been in a mood this week,” Mizu sighed.

“Probably safer if he’s in a bad mood, if he’s in a good mood that probably means he’s planning something.” Taigen thought back to when he’d watched Fowler suck the blood out of a rat. It was the happiest he’d ever seen the man.

“Good point,” Mizu nodded, “three months at sea is taking its toll on all of us. I do look forward to seeing land, if we were in Japan, it would almost be fall.”

“We’ll be married soon.” Taigen tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

“Bet you never thought that would happen when you left Japan.” Mizu smiled.

“No, but I did have dreams about you, even then,” he admitted.

“Probably about killing me.” She rolled her eyes.

“At first, they were, but then…they turned into other things. I couldn’t tell if I’ve spent too much time in brothels or not enough. Not that you’d know anything of brothels.” He stroked her elegant fingers; beautiful, precise, and deceptively strong. Her hands were covered in calluses from her years as a sword maker’s apprentice which somehow made them all the more appealing.

“Not as a client, but I’ve been in my share of them. I know what men do and how to find them,” Mizu said, plainly as if she were discussing the weather, “nothing surprises me, I’ve seen it all.” She stroked the knot on his pants.

“My dreams about you, they started well before I knew you were a woman,” Taigen confessed. Mizu smirked, “Johannes’s going to be scrubbing that pot for a while, I don’t think anyone’s coming in here for a while. We have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Hmmm…” he could feel her fingers stroke his thigh through his clothes. He felt his cock stir and bit his lip, “you’re still healing, you’ll have to sit still and stay quiet,” She stood up and stretched, rolling up her sleeves, “can you do that?” she asked, not waiting for an answer as she untied his pants, pulling him down.

“I can do that.” Taigen’s eyes widened as Mizu wrapped her fingers around his erect cock. He could feel her fingers trace up and down almost studiously, as though it were a sword she’d forged. Her other hand wrapped around his balls, cradling them gently, then with more force, then gently again. She opened her mouth teeth grazing the shaft as she sucked his cock. She could have bitten down, but she chose not to. She had all the power in this moment, over him. Whatever Mizu wanted she could take it, and Taigen wouldn’t have it any other way.

He felt his cock thrust as he came inside her mouth. He wanted to scream but he kept his mouth shut. Mizu had told him to be quiet and still; her wish was his command. She gave his shaft one last lick and stroked it again before putting his clothes back on. They were both panting. They’d been careful. Taigen did not feel his wounds reopen and when Johannes came back to the kitchen after an hour of scrubbing Mizu had left and he was none the wiser.

Later that night, Taigen remembered Mizu mentioning that she had only had sex with her geriatric husband once near the end of their marriage before he had sent men to kill her. It was little wonder she’d been so desperate for satisfaction on her quest. Taigen could not promise his wife-to-be that things would go well once she finally found the rest of her family in London, but he made a point to himself that he would make sure to satisfy her on other ways.

Notes:

I haven't written one of those scenes in a while now have I? It always feels awkward.

Chapter 81: Mizu

Mizu’s fingers shook as she tied the belt on her wedding kimono. She’d killed hundreds of men without hesitation, but it was the reality of getting married again that gnawed at her nerves. The mangled ship had limped into Goree’s port and the second of autumn had arrived. She hadn’t spent much time on land other than going for a bath, trying a bowl of the local stew, and going for a brief walk on the beach to clear her head. There was something ominous about the island port, but Mizu could worry about what that was over the course of the next few weeks. It would take up to a month to repair the ship after being damaged in the attack.

Today, she had a wedding to worry about. Finally tying the kimono, she smoothed the front and resigned herself to sitting on her bunk as Ryo brushed out her hair. He was chattering on about his sister’s wedding, but Mizu was too preoccupied to pay attention to his words. She thought of mama back when she’d dressed her up for her first wedding, lecturing her in graphic details about how to please a man. She’d slept with her sword that night.

“You’re so much calmer than my sister was when she got married, she spent the whole morning before the wedding bossing me around. You haven’t yelled at me once!” Ryo reminisced as he sectioned out her hair, figuring out how best to pin it up.

“Am I supposed to yell at you?” Mizu raised an eyebrow, if she had yelled at mama before her previous wedding, mama would have smacked her upside the head.

“No, Rin just yells a lot. She wanted everything to be perfect,” Ryo explained, “I made her wedding kimono too. Hers was nicer though; I had better fabric than old sheets from the storage room.”

“It’s beautiful.” Despite being made from old sheets, the wedding kimono was well-made and fit her nicely. Mizu hoped she would be able to keep it as a memento of her time on the ship. She wondered how Taigen felt about the wedding, whether he was excited or nervous or filled with regret. Mikio had treated the wedding itself as a chore. Mizu had been nervous then, putting on a brave face for mama and despite dreading every aspect of the marriage that followed. With Taigen she knew what to expect. Marriage was a risk, but one she was willing to take. One more risk, same as every other aspect of her journey to London. Her mind drifted off with worry, barely noticing Ryo putting pins in her hair.

“Alright, your hair is done, and it looks really pretty. Do you want help with your makeup?” Ryo asked, showing Mizu his handiwork in the small mirror they had in their bunk.

“I’ll manage,” Mizu smiled weakly as she sorted through Johannes’s art supplies for the white powder. This time, painting up her face felt more like a chore than a desperate attempt to prove her womanhood as it had been with Mikio. She did not feel as though she was painting over the face of a monster. Still, Mizu hated the feeling of makeup on her skin. The stiff chalky feeling of the powder made it feel as though her skin was itching from the inside out. It was a bearable discomfort but one she had no intention of making a habit of.

It was hard not to think back to her final confrontation with Mikio. She remembered the hot tears that had run down her face and how her wedding kimono ended up drenched in blood. None of it was her own but all of it was her fault. He would have let her die without a second thought. Taigen was a flawed man in many ways: proud, impulsive, irrational, but he would not leave her for dead. If Taigen were going to betray her, he would have done it to escape torture in Fowler’s castle. It was an odd thing to find comforting, but it comforted her nonetheless.

Her hands were unsteady, but somehow Mizu had put herself together. She took a deep breath and stood up, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. To her surprise, she looked like a proper bride. The wedding was real, not some dream her mind had come up with as a distraction as she bled out in a gutter somewhere. Once again, she would be a married woman, with all its connotations. Mizu took another breath and steadied herself. It was time to go.

“Don’t you look lovely,” Hideki smiled at her as he and Ryo lead her down to the shrine. Ren and Nobu followed them, with the rest of the sailors close behind. They walked into the belly of the ship, past Fowler and the cargo hold, down the winding corridor towards the shrine. Mizu could smell the incense as she walked in as well as the musty wood of the ship.

The shrine was lit with candles, bell ready to ring and sake ready to be poured. Mizu hadn’t drunk sake since her last wedding. Daisuke was waiting, along with Johannes, and of course Taigen. For a moment as she walked down to the shrine, Mizu wondered if he would get cold feet. Instead, Taigen grinned, his eyes lighting up as she walked in the room.

“You’re so beautiful,” he stroked her hair gently, careful not to muss it.

“Thanks, you look nice too.” It felt odd to see Taigen outside of his usual clothes, but the ones he’d borrowed from Johannes were quite nice, same green and black as his dojo clothes but of nicer fabric and no crests indicating his former occupation. Unlike Mikio, he’d had a bath before the wedding, desperate to scrub off the smells of the kitchen which he’d been complaining about for weeks. His hair had been washed and trimmed as well. Looking down at his hands, she could see him picking at his nails. He was as nervous as she was. Despite their history, Mizu supposed on some level they were just a young couple trying to figure out their lives together.

Once everyone was settled, they both kneeled in front of the shrine. The sake was poured. Taigen grumbled something about weevils and sure enough there were a few weevils in the bottom of their cups. Still, the ceremony went on as planned. Daisuke rang the bell and both she and Taigen had their three sips of sake. With that they were married.

Mizu thought back to everything that had brought them to this point. They were enemies, then allies, then friends, then lovers and now their lives were bound together, or perhaps they always were.

“Looks like I was willing to waste a moment on ceremony after all,” Mizu noted. She’d changed so much since she’d left Japan.

“I’m glad you did,” Taigen answered, reaching over to kiss her. It was their first kiss as husband and wife.

Notes:

And the moment we've all (or maybe just I've) been waiting for.

Chapter 82: Taigen

Notes:

New chapter, happy reading!!

There was something nice about sleeping in an actual bed. No kitchen cot, no weevils or wafts of salt pork, and not being woken up by Johannes’s puttering about the kitchen before the sun came up were all benefits of this. He’d been so tired after the wedding that by the time Taigen woke up it was the middle of the day.

As a wedding gift, the crew had put Taigen and Mizu up in an inn for two nights. Johannes joked that the gift was for the crew to have two days off from their antics. The cook had forced them to stand for an hour in order to get a sketch of them that he would later turn into a wedding portrait. There were several drawings of both him and Mizu in Johannes’s sketchbook. To his knowledge, neither he nor Mizu had any art made in their likeness before the trip. Mizu was indifferent but Taigen liked the idea of a wedding portrait, their existence recording by the ink on the page. He looked forward to having it, something to show any future children and grandchildren as proof they were once young and attractive.

Mizu was still sleeping by the time he got up and dressed. Johannes had wanted his clothes back, so Taigen was once again in his dojo clothing. He’d have to find something else to wear once he got to Europe. One more thing to get used to. If the trip so far had taught Taigen anything, it was that he was able to get used to almost anything. Food, clothes, climate, architecture, Taigen thought he’d known a lot about the world, but it had become apparent to him that he’d only known about a fraction of it. Travelling had humbled him. Aside from the Dutch and the crew every place they’d stopped had its own people and its own culture. Who was to say the English would be any different? Sure, the country had produced the vile men Mizu was hunting down, but Japan was not exactly short of vile men either. Taigen had no power over these men, all he could do is prevent himself from becoming one of them.

As the midday sun shone through the windows of the inn, Taigen realized how hungry he actually was. Mizu continued to sleep. Taigen smiled and brushed back the one curly lock of hair out of her face. They’d had sex before, but this was the first time Taigen had actually gotten the chance to spend the night with her. Mizu mumbled in her sleep at times as she had at odd moments throughout the night. At first this had frightened Taigen, but she didn’t seem otherwise upset. Right now, she was as peaceful as a cat in a sunbeam, curled up in a ball with her long limbs wrapped up in the sheets. Taigen had watched Mizu sleep back in Japan both on her way to search for Fowler and while recovering at master Eiji’s. She’d carried such tension in her muscles even as she’d slept back then. Here, she appeared truly restful. With any luck she’d sleep half as well in London as she was now.

Leaving Mizu to rest, Taigen walked around the hall and down the stairs to get to the kitchen. He was starving and was sure that Mizu would be too when she woke up. The innkeeper’s wife was there, singing to herself in a language Taigen didn’t understand as she stirred a large pot of rice. Johannes explained that most of the locals spoke Wolof and Arabic though there were easily hundreds of languages spoken throughout the continent of Africa. Taigen did not speak any of those languages, so he tried Dutch which thankfully the woman, Fatima, she introduced herself as, spoke.

Today, Fatima was making fattened rice and bissap juice. The rice was in the large pot, cooking with spices and a variety of local vegetables and dried fish while the bissap juice was a red tea made from flower petals. Taigen’s mouth watered at the smell, he missed rice. They’d run out of both rice and dried fish over a month ago, with their diets consisting of little more than weevil-ridden hardtack, salt pork, and tea. Fatima asked him if he’d tried the local food yet, to which he said no but that his wife liked dried fish so he would be happy. His wife. He could say that now. It felt natural, referring to Mizu in such a way.

Fatima was curious about Japan. She’d only met a handful of sailors from there but knew little about the culture and did not speak the language. It took Taigen a moment to figure out where to begin, he hadn’t talked to many people beyond the sailors. It never occurred to him that people might be curious about his home.

Taigen shared stories about Kohama, and as it turned out, Fatima was also from a small fishing village on the mainland. He shared stories about his life at the Shindo dojo in Kyoto, what a samurai was, and how Japan was closed off from the West with very few exceptions. A more awkward question she asked was how he met his wife; Taigen told the truth which Fatima found hilarious. She’d met her husband at the market selling fish. She loaded up a tray with rice, extra dried fish, and a pitcher of bissap juice and wished the newlyweds a long and happy marriage.

Heavy tray in hand, Taigen made his way up the stairs back to their room, nearly dropping the tray when it was time to open the door. Mizu was awake, sitting in her juban and brushing out her hair. She’d washed her makeup off before sleeping but had left her hair up, not wanting to contend with the mass of pins Ryo had put it up with. Taigen must have been gone longer than he realized, as Mizu had pulled the last of the pins out and into a small box.

“There’s enough pins in here to forge a kitchen knife with.” Mizu shook the box, which rattled and looked heavy in her hand.”

“I’m sure you could make a nice one with those.” Taigen placed the tray on the small table near the window, “think you’ll go back to sword smithing one day?”

“If master Eiji takes me back when we get back to Japan I would like to go back to the forge,” she admitted, pouring tea for the both of them, “is it supposed to be red?”

“Yeah, they make tea from flower petals here. I don’t really know what to expect from it. The rice with dried fish smelled good in the kitchen.” Taigen stuck his hand into the rice and started eating. The warm, spiced rice easily the best thing he’d tasted in months.

“They don’t have chopsticks here,” Mizu noted. This did not stop her from helping herself to the rice.

“You’re taking all the dried fish!” Taigen said, rice flying out of his mouth, snatching a piece of dried fish before Mizu could get to it.

“It’s rude to talk with your mouth open. Did they not teach you manners at the dojo?” Mizu took a sip of the red tea.

“This rice is too good for manners, how’s the tea?” He grabbed another handful of rice.

“Different but nice,” Mizu poured herself another cup. Taigen took a sip of the tea, it had a tart, floral flavour. Looking down there was not a single bug in the pitcher.

“You know the best part of this meal?”

“No?” Mizu raised an eyebrow.

“Not a single weevil,” Taigen noted. Mizu laughed, almost choking on her tea. There were worse ways to start a marriage than a nice lunch and a good night’s sleep.

Notes:

Some notes: Goree is off the coast of what would become modern day Senegal. Also bissap is another word for hibiscus, I actually had hibiscus tea as I wrote the last third of this chapter.

Season 2 of Blue Eye Samurai will be released in 2026 and I aspire to finish this fic before season 2 gets out. I also want to get the characters to Europe before the end of summer when I have a business trip there.

Chapter 83: Fowler

Notes:

Another week, another chapter. Happy reading!

Abijah Fowler was no geographer. The only thing he needed to learn about a place was how best to conquer it. The last time he’d looked at a map was while he planned his failed coup. Now that the ship had finally docked after three months at sea, Fowler could only guess where in the world they were. Judging by the heat and the voices of the sailors on the dock, he would have to guess they were still somewhere in Africa. The last time they’d docked had been in. the Cape of Good Hope. By process of elimination Fowler had to assume they were in some Dutch colony off the West Coast of Africa. Goree, Arguin, or whatever part of the Gold Coast that didn’t belong to the Portuguese. It made no difference to him. He was still a prisoner.

Yesterday was the second of autumn. Fowler wouldn’t have given a shit about this fact, but Mizu had muttered something about it under her breath and there appears to have been a party last night. Not that anyone had told him anything about it. All Fowler had gotten out of it was a bowl of African stew and a small bottle of sake. The stew was a welcome change from the regular hardtack gruel they’d been feeding him and the sake, though filled with weevils, was the first drink of alcohol Fowler had drunk since Mizu first took him prisoner. Once he got to London he could drink as much whisky as he pleased.

This morning, however, was different. Every day, Mizu came to her English lessons like clockwork, but for the second day in a row she had not arrived. Instead, someone else arrived with his lunch. Yesterday it was one of the older sailors, and today it was the cook. The man’s expressionless green eyes stared right through him as he shoved the tray into Fowler’s cell.

“Eat up rat-man,” the cook frowned. Looking up at his tray, Fowler saw the same reheated stew and a larger bottle of sake than the night before. Fowler picked up the bottle and sniffed it. It smelled off, likely from being in the barrel too long and being flavoured by all sorts of pests. Still, bad sake was still alcohol and Fowler chugged it down as though it were the last thing he’d ever drink.

“I’m not going to miss that,” Fowler grimaced at the sake.

“For once I believe we are on the same page, I never liked sake. Beer, jenever, even wine has its place.” The cook leaned against a crate, watching him. Fowler could tell by his posture that the man was biding his time. He was waiting for something. Fowler needed to keep him talking to figure out exactly what.

“You Dutch need strong alcohol to make up for the shitty slop you consider food.” Fowler stirred the stew, like the sake it smelled a bit off. Still, he had a sturdy Irish gut, if he could survive the famine he could survive another subpar stew.

“You’re still eating it.” He shrugged.

“I’ve eaten worse.”

“Yes, I know. Mizu told me about the cannibalism.” The cook continued to stare blankly.

“And where is our dear Mizu?” Fowler asked. His head was starting to hurt.

“In town most likely.” An unsatisfying answer.

“Probably off fucking her little pet samurai if you ask me.” He was Fowler’s least favourite person on the ship, especially as Mizu had gone soft in his presence.

“Nobody asked you,” The cook sighed.

“A man has a right to his opinions.” Fowler grabbed the bars of the cage, his hands were sweating, and he felt lightheaded.

“We all know your opinions rat-man.” He took a step back. Fowler was angry. He wanted to threaten the cook but could not find the words. Everything around him grew dim. His grip weakened and he fell to the floor of the ship. After that the world went black around him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The first thing Fowler noticed when he opened his eyes was the smell. More specifically, the lack of it. As the months has gone on, his cell had started smelling worse and worse, even with his piss and shit bucket being replaced on a regular basis as well as not keeping food around as he’d returned his meal tray to whoever was feeding him after eating. Looking around, Fowler could see that someone had cleaned his cage. There were no more moldy spots, blood patches, or dried urine on the walls. No more rodent bones or dead bugs either. His trophies had been taken away from him.

It took a few minutes to gather his bearings, but Fowler eventually managed to sit up on his cot. His bedding had been washed and changed, and he’d been moved to his cot. He’d been moved against his will. If he hadn’t as though he had been treated like an animal for the entire trip, he certainly did now.

Fowler looked down at his clothes, which, like his bedding, had been in the process of rotting away. His clothes were gone. The clothes he was wearing were unfamiliar to him. They were clean and so was he. Not only had his cell been cleaned but he had been bathed and changed. Fowler wondered where they’d gotten the clothes they’d put him in. Rather than the Japanese clothing he’d worn for years, they’d put him in a shirt and breeches. Western clothing. Where the fuck had this motley crew of sailors gotten their hands on Western clothes? Fowler saw only two possible answers: either they’d pilfered the clothes off the pirates who had attacked them or bought them in one of the colonies. Given the fact he'd seen Mizu dressed up in Western clothes she’d pick off a dead pirate he suspected the former.

Annoyed as he was, there was at least some relief in no longer smelling like a rotten corpse. He rubbed his face, noticing the absence of the beard he’d grown in his cage. This he did not miss. He would never admit it to his captors, but it felt good to have a clean face after many long months. Fowler’s head still felt lighter than usual. He ran his fingers through his hair, or rather, what was left of it. His once long hair had been cut down to about an inch and it had been washed along with the rest of him. Perhaps it was a good thing he had no mirror in his cell as he was not certain he’d recognise his reflection.

“You’re awake.” A voice called out to him from outside his cell.

“You fucking drugged me,” Fowler yelled, dragging himself towards the door.

“You needed a wash, can’t have you spreading disease to the crew. They’ve been through enough,” the cook said flatly.

“You took my clothes!”

“They were rotting off of you,” he explained, as though he were talking to a child.

“You cut my hair!”

“I would not have had to if it hadn’t been so matted. That’s entirely your fault. You had a comb and no shortage of time to take care of it.”

“I will not be lectured by a pathetic Dutch mongrel such as yourself,” Fowler hissed through the bars of his cage.

“I’m going to be the least of your problems when we get to Amsterdam. Not even Mizu can save you from the VOC,” he threatened, his green eyes cold and empty as he stared right though him.

“Fuck you and fuck the Dutch East India Company.” He growled. Fowler hated the way he’d been made to feel, as though he were an animal after all.

“No thanks, and good luck with that.” The cook shrugged and walked away. Fowler wanted to scream but bit his tongue. He needed to rethink his plans. Forget leading Mizu to Skeffington, Fowler had to do one thing and one thing only: escape from the ship as soon as possible once they reached Amsterdam.

Chapter 84: Mizu

Notes:

It's been a while but here we are, new chapter.

A week into being docked in Goree and they had stumbled into a routine. The crew, as well as some local workers were repairing the ship. Every day work was being done on the ship as Daisuke and Johannes figured out how to communicate the perils of their journey to the VOC, Johannes grumbling about his unreasonable brother-in-law. Taigen, still not healed enough to do most manual labour was his assistant in the kitchen. Mizu spent most of her time doing laundry or helping Ryo figure out inventory. She had also taken up most of the burden of managing Fowler, still irritable but smelling far better after being bathed and having his cell cleaned.

So far, being married had changed very little about Mizu’s life. After two days at the inn, she and Taigen went back to their bunks on the ship. They had some time together between their chores, Taigen often stared longingly at her as she trained, since he was still unable to spar. Neither Mizu nor her husband owned anything of value, they had neither land nor significant positions in society. They were both foreigners travelling halfway across the world. In many ways this freed them up from social expectations and made their lives easier. Mizu wondered what this would mold them into in England, and then eventually once they got back to Japan. She hoped that by the time her quest was over, they could live a quiet life somewhere.

To have any hope of a peaceful live together, they had to survive. To survive, they had to adapt. She’d taught Taigen a few words of English, he’d taught her a few words of Dutch. Every stop they’d made on the way to London was different than the last, Mizu suspected that Amsterdam would be different to all of them and London different from Amsterdam. According to Johannes, it was a cold, wet, and filthy city but not one without charms. His description of the city reminded Mizu of her last trip to Kyoto.

After a week in town, Mizu decided to take a proper walk around the island. She could see the shore of the mainland on the horizon; Hideki had told her that they were two miles away from the territory known as Senegambia which the Dutch had conquered from the Portuguese.

No one looked twice at Mizu as she wandered the island city. She was back in men’s clothes and wore her wide-brimmed hat to protect herself from the sun. To the locals she was just another foreigner passing though on her way to somewhere else. Like all the Dutch colonies Mizu had found herself in, Goree was run by the VOC. Some of its inhabitants were Dutch, some local Africans, and some mixed race from the aforementioned groups. Regardless of their background, most of the people she saw were trying to find shade or shelter in order to avoid the strength of the midday sun.

Goree had several churches and a mosque. According to the manager at the inn she and Taigen had stayed at, some of the locals quietly clung to their own ancient spiritual traditions. No one in Goree knew the sutras. There were no Shinto shrines or temples except for the one on the ship. Here, Mizu’s own beliefs were a foreign fairytale. Johannes had warned Mizu that his mother, a pious Calvinist ever since she left Japan, would try to convince her to convert to Christianity and that she would likely have to keep her faith to herself. Mizu was no stranger to keeping secrets. She would continue to light incense and pray for Swordfather’s health. No one else needed to know.

The more time Mizu spent on the island, the more she noticed there was something ominous about it. The harbour was the largest she’d been to since Batavia, but Batavia had felt like a bustling city while Goree carried over it a sense of dread and grief. Walking back towards the harbour, Mizu saw Johannes sitting out with his paints and canvas, he was painting a scene of the harbour and nearby barracks which Mizu assumed housed VOC personnel.

“I hate this place,” he frowned, dipping a brush into a smudge of blue paint.

“More than you hate Japan?” Mizu raised an eyebrow; she knew the cook’s trip to Japan had been miserable but had yet to hear anything about why he hated this island in particular.

“Obviously, yes. I hate Japan because it hates me, I hate Goree because it’s the worst of the empire.”

“I thought it was just a trading post.” Mizu hadn’t assumed much of the island, other than it being a Dutch port where they had a chance to restock supplies and repair the ship.

“It’s a warehouse, mostly for the West India Company which operates in the Caribbean. Much of their labour force is brought through here, almost entirely against their will,” Johannes grimaced.

“West India Company?” Mizu had assumed the East India Company was the only one.

“You see, the Dutch Republic has so many economic interests that it needs two companies to manage them. We’re going to London, but there’s a whole other ocean with many more places the other side. Of course, we Dutch have our own interests there as well,” he explained.

“I see,” Mizu vaguely remembered the large map her father had hanging on his wall, marking trade routes across the world, she would have to ask Hideki for details.

“You see those barracks over there?” Johannes pointed in their direction, “Inside those buildings are men, women, and children taken by slavers from the African continent. Separated of course, can’t keep families together now, can we?” he grimaced, “They’re packed in the barracks like fish in a barrel, chained up, and shipped abroad like any other product.”

“Where do they go?” Mizu’s eyes widened, she’d seen her share of flesh traders and other deplorables who made their business in the bodies they could buy or sell. It had never occurred to her that people themselves could be exchanged as merchandise on such a grand scale.

“Well, first they go through that door,” he pointed in the direction of a door at the edge of the barracks, “the door of no return where they get a final glimpse of their homeland before being stuffed on a ship, most likely to the island of Curacao.”

“Curacao?” Mizu had never heard of the island before.

“An island in the West Indes. Slaves go there, colonists from all over come to buy or sell a workforce for the plantations that finance the empire, which in turn means they need more labour, thus more slaves.” Johannes painted a bit of green into the water on the canvas, emulating the turquoise of the sea, “these are the people we’re dealing with Mizu. Fowler’s a mad dog with delusions of grandeur but the Dutch empire is much more powerful than any of us. You can get your revenge, build a life for yourself, but you can’t do anything about this. Kill one slaver, another will take his place.” Johannes shrugged, a grim expression on his face, “do you know what the worst part of this is for you?”

“The men I’ve vowed to kill are as evil as the those who trade in flesh and despair?” This fact Mizu had made peace with; she had not sworn revenge on innocent children or simple peasants trying to feed their families.

“Mizu, in order to get to London and to your family, you will have to go through Amsterdam. To do that you are at the mercy of the VOC and Dutch imperial interests. The men who profit from selling lives are most likely the very men you’ll have to work with. There is no escape.” His words closed in on her as though they were sealing her in a tomb.

“I understand now,” she took a breath, “why Japan has closed its borders.”

“Those borders will be opened eventually, whether Japan wishes it or not.” Another grim truth Mizu wished she didn’t know. Her life was much simpler when her only purpose had been to find and kill her father, an ignorant fantasy she could never go back to having.

Notes:

Not gonna lie, this chapter was a heavy one and a challenge to write.

Chapter 85: Mizu

Notes:

Life is stressful, have a chapter!

Two weeks on the island of Goree and Mizu was still unsure how to feel about the place. Ship repairs were coming along as expected and Mizu was on good terms with the dock workers who were helping the sailors fix the damaged boat. She went into town at times, trying to learn at least a few more words of Dutch before they reached Amsterdam. More than once, she and Taigen went back to the inn for a meal. Fatima, the innkeeper’s wife was twice as talkative as Ringo and nearly as good a cook. Three days ago, they’d gone, eating rice and fish and red tea almost forgetting that they were half a world away from Japan in a slaver’s port owned by the VOC.

Even with the repairs, the ship was a familiar place. Mizu still had her bunk and her bunkmate, the kitchen still smelled of salt pork, and Fowler was still caged up in the cargo hold. Johannes and the crew had somehow managed to clean up both Fowler and his dwellings, the cargo hold no longer smelling of the unwashed Irishman. Despite being docked, Mizu continued with her English lessons. Every day she brought him lunch and sat with him, learning more of the language. Johannes was teaching her how to read and write in English which Fowler refused to do. Mizu kept this detail to herself.

“Tell me love, are we on the Gold Coast or docked in Goree?” Fowler asked, not breaking eye contact as he chewed a lump of dried fish in the stew. The local dried fish was different than the dried fish they had back in Japan, but both were better than the aging salt pork sitting in the kitchen covered in flies.

“Goree. Is there a difference?” Mizu disclosed, figuring it couldn’t hurt to tell Fowler where they were. If he knew anything about Goree he’d know they were on an island controlled by the Dutch. His options for escape were limited unless he also wanted to end up on a slave ship destined for Curacao.

“Not really, I’m afraid, a slaver’s port is a slaver’s port. You do know the purpose of this place by now, don’t you? We’ve been here long enough.” Fowler shrugged, unbothered by the cruelty of the world around him.

“I’m aware,” she answered, her face devoid of emotion. Fowler still loved getting a reaction out of her when he was able to. Mizu did not take this personally, according to Ryo he did this with everyone, as though he were a cat torturing a mouse before eating it. With his rotten clothes and wild beard, Fowler had resembled a wild beast. After being bathed, Fowler had been given new, clean clothes, his beard had been shaved, and his hair cut short. He’d lost a lot of weight during his time in captivity as well. He no longer looked fearsome; he looked like little more than a harmless old man. Still, Mizu refused to let her guard down in his presence.

“The English buy slaves from the Dutch. Not in London of course, mainly in the colonies. Sugar, cotton, all sorts of other crops take a lot of work to grow and it’s much cheaper to buy slaves than pay servants. We even have our own East India Company,” Fowler laughed.

“The colonies, those are in the New World?” Johannes had explained slave routes to Mizu using Hideki’s maps, but she was curious what Fowler would tell her about them.

“Perhaps they are,” Fowler laughed, “most of your small-minded people don’t even know the New World exist. Never even seen a map outside of Japan.”

“I’ve seen maps.” Mizu frowned as Fowler dipped his hardtack in tea. They were eating though the last box of old hardtack before starting on the new boxes they’d restocked from the island. Not only did this box of hardtack have an abnormally high weevil population but it was also full of nails. The piece Fowler was trying to soften had at least four of them baked into the cracker.

“I’d expect nothing less of you, little miss,” he smiled, looking at her more like proud uncle than a prison warden, “your father has dealings all over the world.”

“Is he a slaver?” Mizu raised an eyebrow, not giving away that she knew Thomas Routley was her uncle and not her father. Either way he would die by her hands.

“In a way, but Routley always had an open mind. He caters to all tastes in his brothels. He’s got whores in from everywhere,” Fowler described the unlucky prostitutes in her uncle’s brothel as though they were items on a menu.

“Madam Kaji would call them particularities.” Mizu thought back to the brothel madam she’d crossed paths with in Mihonoseki. She hoped her new life in Edo was treating her kindly, especially now that she no longer had to provide services to Fowler and his ilk.

“So, she was the one to give you the plans to my big old fortress in Japan,” Fowler laughed, “she sent you up there to die.”

“I didn’t die.” Mizu thought back to the bones of the women and children that lined the entryway into his castle.

“Anyone else would have, just not you. You even got to save your pet samurai. He’s still following you around like a stupid dog,” Fowler taunted her. Mizu bit her tongue to avoid rolling her eyes. It was almost funny, how little Fowler knew about her and Taigen’s relationship. She made a point not to call him her husband around Fowler.

“My father, does he still have business in Japan?” Mizu changed the subject. Fowler stared into her eyes for a moment; she could almost see him calculating in his mind how best to answer her question. He took a last sip of his tea. He wanted to make her squirm. She would not squirm for him.

“Your father has business everywhere. The English…some of them have varied tastes, wanting specimens from exotic places. At times that might include Japan. Every so often, I’ll throw him a bone if I see a pretty girl to send his way.” He explained. Mizu would have to talk to Johannes in case Henry had any knowledge of her uncle’s business. Fowler slipped his empty tray through the door.

“I see.” Mizu picked up the tray, noticing even the nails from the hardtack were gone. She hadn’t seen him eat them, but they were most likely softer than the hardtack they came in. Mizu would not put it past him to keep the nails as a snack, “and how many of these pretty girls did you send his way?”

“A story for another day love. Come back tomorrow, I’ll tell you more.” Fowler offered, most likely needing time to come up with whatever lies he planned on telling her. Mizu nodded as she left. Even if Fowler no longer stank, he was poor company. He would be a lucky man if he made it London with them, but it was best to keep Fowler alive until they got to Amsterdam. Perhaps he would a bargaining chip in her inevitable dealings with the VOC.

Chapter 86: Taigen

“You know Johannes, I’m starting to think you might not want to go home.” Taigen could feel the cook’s restless as he scrubbed pots after dinner. Three weeks in Goree and the cook had become increasingly antsy. Johannes was constantly pacing back and forth around the ship’s small kitchen, more than once he’d hit his head on a shelf or hanging piece of salt pork, cursing in Dutch with words Taigen only half-understood.

“Home? What home?” Johannes laughed bitterly, “there is no home, only where my brother-in-law decides we all should live.” He crumpled up yet another piece of paper and threw it at the wall, accidentally hitting Taigen in the head.

“Ow!” Taigen rubbed his head where the ball of paper had hit it. He picked up the paper and smoothed it out. On it were the beginnings of a letter in English. Taigen could not read the English but saw that the letters were the same as Dutch. Unlike Japanese, both English and Dutch were read left to right. He could not recognise most of the words, but he did recognise the name of the person the letter was addressed to, “Henry,” he read the name out.

“I’m drafting a letter to Mizu’s cousin. Rather, I’m attempting to and failing miserably,” he sighed, “I don’t even know if the man remembers me. I never forgot him. I think of him often” Johannes slumped into the stool he was sitting on.

“How did you and Henry even meet?” How Johannes had met the cousin of one of the men on Mizu’s revenge list was something Taigen had wondered for months.

“Bit of an embarrassing story actually,” Johannes admitted.

“Worse than how I met my wife by tormenting her as a child in our shitty hometown?”

“No, your relationship with Mizu is a unique one to say the least. My relationship with Henry started out as a professional one. You see, I had gone to London on behalf of my brother-in-law to do business for the VOC. I knew no one so I stayed at an inn, it seemed alright at first, I had a room and ate in the pub downstairs, but I had not chosen my accommodations particularly wisely and found myself with lice, worms, and bedbugs all at the same time. I needed medical attention so heard there was a Dr. James Routley with an office not far away. His son was in-between semesters of his own medical training in Padua and happened to be in town. That’s how I met Henry, he was a handsome English medical student, and I was a wretched Dutch mongrel covered in pests.”

“Is all of London that filthy?” Taigen scratched his head; he’d gotten lice a few times in life and bedbugs only once at the dojo. The idea of experiencing them at the same time and shitting worms made his skin crawl.

“No, I apparently have poor taste in accommodations. London is quite dirty, yes, I just happened to choose one of the dirtiest parts of it to stay in,” the cook recalled.

“Did you go somewhere else or stay with the bedbugs?”

“Henry found me better lodgings, once my health improved. Shaving my head and boiling my clothes got rid of the lice and bugs, the worms were stubborn, but he cured me from those as well. We got on well until he had to finish his medical training and I got a chance to sail to Japan. I’ve thought of him often but haven’t seen him since,” Johannes took a deep breath, staring at his notebook as he started a new letter, “I’m still trying to figure out what to write.”

“I guess you could ask him if he has ideas of places to stay and wants to meet his cousin,” Taigen shrugged. Whatever happened, it would be an awkward meeting.

“Dearest Henry, remember your former patient and summer fling from several years back? Well, I’ve missed you and would like to see you since I’m headed back to London. If you’ve left the beautiful city of Padua for the dank and dingy London streets I would love to reconnect. Please help me find somewhere to stay where I won’t contract lice, worms, and bedbugs at the same time. Your cousin from Japan has come to visit with her husband. She’s here to kill your uncle and likely leave a trail of destruction in her wake. I can bring her along when we go to the pub. Best, Johannes,” he joked as he drafted the actual letter he was writing. Taigen could hear laughter as Mizu walked into the kitchen with Fowler’s tray.

“A trail of destruction.” Mizu shook her head, still laughing.

“It’s pretty accurate. Based on what you did at the Shindo dojo, I would use the word typhoon,” Taigen teased, giving his wife a quick kiss as she slid the tray in with the unwashed pots, “how was Fowler.”

“Foul,” Mizu frowned.

“The rat man lives up to his name,” Johannes added as he continued to write.

“You’re writing a letter,” Mizu looked around at the discarded papers throughout the kitchen.

“I’m attempting to write a letter. Eventually I’ll succeed in writing a decent one,” Johannes said, more to himself than to Mizu.

“Do you think my cousin will like me?” She asked.

“So long as you don’t stab him right away, I think there’s a chance you might get along.” Mizu nodded.

“Henry hates his uncle. And if you get stabbed as often as Taigen claims you do, it’s your best interests to be on good terms with at least one doctor,” Johannes argued. How Mizu had survived on her quest before meeting Ringo was a mystery to Taigen, and it was only a matter of time before she got herself into trouble and needed medical attention.

“Thank you, Johannes, for sharing your connections with us. You’re a better guide than Fowler.”

“Mizu, the lampreys in the Thames would be better guides than Fowler.”

“Lampreys?” Johannes had mentioned them once before, but Taigen forgot what they were.

“Eels, they have round mouths lined with sharp teeth. The English bake them into pies. You can tell the good taverns from the poor ones by how many teeth you find in the pie.” Taigen wanted to retch. He hoped Mizu’s cousin would be able to find them food in London that wasn’t full of teeth and likely to give them worms.

“I see,” Mizu grimaced, “since you know my cousin, do you know if he knows my sisters?” Johannes took a moment to think, adding another sentence to his letter.

“Henry did mention having cousins, he spoke fondly of a woman named Jane if that means anything to you.”

“I have a sister named Jane, Jane Skeffington,” she added, “I might have a chance to meet her.” Mizu took a deep breath; Taigen could tell she was nervous. While he’d grown up with four siblings, Mizu had been alone with Master Eiji.

“I suppose you will Mizu, just let me finish this letter,” the cook advised as he wrote. They could send the letter to London once they arrived in Amsterdam. One more thing that could go wrong. One more thing that could save their lives.

Notes:

August is a crazy month this year so I make no promises about my writing schedule (not that I have one). I might write more or less than usual depending on how stressed I am and how strongly I feel the need to procrastinate.

Chapter 87: Mizu

Notes:

Thanks for waiting and thanks for reading! Things are incredibly hectic for me these days.

If Mizu had gotten on the ship worrying about losing her strength from spending months at sea than her anxiety had been in vain. Maintaining the ship was a thankless task, even while they were docked. Supplies needed to be stocked, bedding and clothes washed, sails and rope mended, not including the repairs to the ship. A month in Goree and Mizu was as busy as she had been at sea.

Much of her time was spent repairing sails and doing laundry but today she was cleaning the deck. They were to leave for Amsterdam at dawn, and the much-neglected deck was practically speckled in bird poop from their month docked in Goree. Most of the crew were finishing up with repairs. Since she had not been involved with the repairing of the ship, Mizu offered to mop the deck. Getting sick from the filthy environment they were stuck in for one last month was not something she wanted, either for herself or anyone else on the boat.

Dipping her mop in her bucket of water, Mizu got started cleaning up a particularly dirty section near the mast of the ship right under where the seagulls loved to perch. Looking down, she could tell it would take several buckets of water to properly clean the ship’s deck. The endless chores of the ship reminded Mizu of her time both at Swordfather’s forge and on Mikio’s farm. Both places that offered her peace and purpose with the daily grind of meaningful work. Interludes in her quest for revenge. She missed Swordfather but not Mikio. Swordfather cared for her as an apprentice, Mikio was fond of the idea of the wife he thought he could mould her in to.

Mizu heard another splat just as she’d cleaned a patch of wood under the mast. Turning around, she expected to see more poop splattered against the wood. Instead, Ryo was the unlucky victim of the seagull’s excrement.

“They just don’t stop shitting,” Ryo grimaced, looking down at the fresh white stain of seagull poop on his shoulder, “the damn seagulls, they’re not even large birds. They’re just always here and they’re always pooping.” He pulled a cloth out of his haori and rubbed at the stain.

“Are there seagulls in Amsterdam?” Mizu asked.

“There are seagulls in every port and weevils in every slab of hardtack. That is the beauty of life at sea,” Johannes had said something similar once, with much less enthusiasm in his voice.

“You find joy in being a sailor.” Mizu dunked her mop back into the bucket, the water inside turning increasingly grey.

“What can I say Mizu, my whole life I’ve wanted nothing more than to be a man at sea,” Ryo confessed, he’d brought up a second mop and bucket.

“Thank you,” Mizu nodded.

“For what?” Ryo looked up, confused.

“Helping me clean.”

“I spend as much time on the deck as you do, and I might be even more tired in stepping in seagull shit. Besides, I’ve spent the past few days updating the ship’s log and expense sheets. My eyes hurt.” He rubbed his eyes momentarily before going back to mopping. Ryo started humming. Looking around, Mizu could see the other ships in the harbour. A new one had just come into port from the West Indies. A slaver ship. More than once, Mizu had watched people be loaded onto the ships as though they were cargo. She couldn’t help them.

“I can imagine.” Ryo spent much of his time managing inventory, expenses, and making notes about all sorts of happenings at sea. And gambling of course. Ryo was the one managing the betting pool, “do you want to be a sailor forever?” Mizu wondered if Ryo had plans for his future. Planning for the future was something Mizu had just started to figure out how to do.

“Obviously, I want to be a sailor until I’m older than dad. I can’t really think of anything else I’d rather do. I love the ship, and the sea air, and being in the middle of the ocean with nothing but the sea and the sky around me. I love travelling and seeing the world. No other job would give the chance to leave Japan without leaving forever,” he explained. Ryo loved sailing the same way Swordfather loved swords.

“There’s an art to sailing isn’t there?”

“As much as there’s an art to anything. You can never truly know the ocean, just how to navigate it. That’s what dad always says. It’s something I need to keep in mind if I’m going to be a captain someday,” Of course, Ryo wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, “yeah, our routes are decided by the Dutch but once we’re at sea, the ship is ours.”

“How do you live with it?” Mizu asked.

“With what?

“Working for the East India trading company?”

“Huh,” Ryo blinked, taking a deep breath, “I guess I don’t really think about it. Most of the sailors are decent guys even if the people we work for aren’t always the best. It’s kind of true everywhere though, I just try to take care of the crew,” he shrugged.

“I see,” Mizu wondered how she’d fare once they actually got to Amsterdam. It was a good thing she wasn’t going alone, “what can I expect once I reach the Dutch republic?”

“I mean, we’re only really going to Amsterdam before we go to London. I can’t wait to go to London even if it is dirty. I’ve never been and just because Johannes doesn’t like the city doesn’t mean it’s a bad place. Amsterdam’s not bad, it has Dutch people and canals like Batavia only it’s a lot colder. It’ll be fall when we get there, they have four seasons in Europe just like we do back in Japan,” Ryo explained. Mizu tried to picture Amsterdam in her head, but nothing came to mind.

“I still don’t know what I should expect.” Mizu went back to scrubbing the deck. Between the two of them they were making significant progress on the deck. It would be clean by nightfall.

“An adventure Mizu,” Ryo smiled, “all you can expect is an adventure.”

Chapter 88: Taigen

Notes:

Another week, another chapter! Hope you enjoy it.

It was fall in the Dutch Republic, just as it was in Japan. Warm drinks, crisp nights, and the impending threat of winter seemed to be a common theme between the Dutch and Japanese when it came to that time of year, or so Johannes had led Taigen to believe. They’d been back at sea for a week, with three weeks on the ocean still ahead of them. By the time the ship finally did dock in Amsterdam, it would be the end of season. The sky would be gray with the threat of snow, the winds would be cold, and the plants lying in wait, bracing themselves for winter. Christmas would come, not that Taigen had any idea what Christmas was, only that it was Johannes’s favourite holiday and the puritans in England had some sort of grudge against its celebration.

According to the cook, Amsterdam was an ugly city compared to Kyoto and a beautiful one compared to London though they all had their charms. Fowler had referred to London as a “shitbucket city”, or so Mizu had told him, rolling her eyes at his description. Johannes had complicated feelings about all of them, preferring to go back to Rotterdam if he ever had the chance. So often the cook had talked about the city of his youth, of the tavern he worked at, the harbour, of bedwetter Willy his childhood bully turned eventual friend. Mizu would be in a rush to get to London, but Taigen hoped they would get a chance to visit Rotterdam, if for no other reason than to experience the city through Johannes’s perspective.

A year ago, Taigen was in Kyoto, unaware of how his life would change at the whims of a blue-eyed swordsman. Everything he’d fought so hard to build for himself had unravelled, leading him on a journey he had never expected. Still, he hadn’t regretted stuffing himself in a barrel to stow away on Mizu’s ship. Wherever Mizu’s journey would take her, he would follow. She was stuck with him whether she wanted him or not but considering the fact she was willing to marry him Taigen thought it safe to assume she wanted him around.

Beyond the weevils in the hardtack, the only unwanted entity on the ship was Fowler. Every single sailor on the ship found him to be unpleasant, especially poor Ryo who would be in charge of the ship once they’d docked in Amsterdam. It surprised Taigen that Mizu hadn’t killed the man yet. He taunted her endlessly. If Fowler didn’t hold potential value as a bargaining chip with the VOC, his corpse would have been thrown overboard ages ago. And yet, somehow Mizu found within herself enough restraint not to kill him until she was fully certain he had outlived his usefulness.

It was Taigen’s turn to bring Fowler his breakfast. He’d used his stab wound as an excuse not to have to deal with the man, but it had been months, and his wounds were mostly healed. Tray in hand, he walked down the old creaky stairs back into the cargo hold he’d once stowed away in. Fowler had been the first person he’d talked to after leaving Japan, the old Irishman taunting him as he crawled out of the barrel he’d been hiding inside. Taigen slid the meal tray into Fowler’s cage, the cargo hold smelled better since both Fowler and his dwellings had been cleaned but Fowler was still Fowler, Taigen braced himself for whatever threats would come out of the man’s mouth.

“Ah, Mizu’s pet, haven’t seen you in forever. Here I thought she’d gotten sick of you and left you to die somewhere,” Fowler smiled cruelly, ripping a piece of hardtack in half before dunking it in the stew. Taigen hated hardtack only marginally less than he hated Fowler.

“Nope, still here,” Taigen stood squarely, trying to rid his face of all emotions. That was Mizu’s skill, not his.

“Oh well, I’m certain she’ll be rid of you soon enough.” Fowler ignored the spoon on his tray in favour of shovelling stew into his mouth with his hands, “I hope by now you figured out you ruined your life?” Fowler licked a piece of salt pork off of his fingers.

“Ruined my life?” Taigen raised an eyebrow, perhaps Fowler’s mind was starting to go after all his time in his cell.

“Really? I knew you were dull, but I can’t imagine even you’re so stupid you haven’t figured it out,” Fowler taunted.

“What are you talking about?” Taigen grimaced, not at Fowler but at the furry brown spider that had crawled out of the wood onto Fowler’s shoulder. Fowler sighed. He picked up the spider, squeezing its fat belly between his fingers, the animal’s legs moving in all directions as it tried in vain to escape his grasp.

“The moment you stowed away on this ship, your fate was sealed young man,” Fowler explained, casually ripping the legs off the spider one by one, tossing them to the side. “You could have gone back to the ashes of Edo, with your tail between your legs like the pathetic dog of a man you are and begged them for a job. Thanks to me, the old shogunate was short on samurai and maybe, just maybe they would have overlooked your little transgressions and offered you a job. You could have built a life there, married a pretty girl as ignorant as you, and forgotten about everything that lives beyond the borders of your stupid little country,” Fowler rolled the body of the now legless spider between his fingers before popping it in his mouth, “You’ll never be a samurai again, you’ve seen the world now. Even if, by some unlikely miracle you do make it back to Japan you can never truly go home. You’ve changed so much it won’t ever be the same,” Fowler laughed, spider guts spitting from his mouth.

“You regret leaving Ireland,” Taigen realized. Suddenly, Fowler made sense to him. He was trying to plug an emptiness within him. He was a man who would never truly be satisfied.

“Funny thing, going off to seek your fortune. You have to actually go somewhere that has fortune enough to seek.” Fowler frowned, taking a sip of his tea, “there was no fortune left in Ireland. The English made sure of that.” Abijah Fowler, was a man who watched his family starve and ate his sister to survive. He’d been hungry ever since. Taigen would have almost felt sorry for Fowler if he hadn’t become such a monster.

“Even if you make it to London, even if you go back to Ireland, you can never really go home.” Whatever sense of home Fowler had once had never really existed anymore. It almost made Taigen grateful for his own miserable childhood which had been all too easy to leave behinds. For him, the hard part had been making amends, something he knew Fowler had no concept of.

“Go home,” Fowler laughed, “don’t you get it? Home doesn’t exist anymore, for either of us.”

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to build one for myself.” Taigen shrugged. Whatever happened, home would be whatever life and family he could build with Mizu. That meant more to him than any particular place that life would take them. He would find a way to be happy.

Fowler ate the rest of his meal in silence, with Taigen more than happy to leave him in his cell when it was done.

Chapter 89: Mizu

Notes:

I'm so stressed so uh, have a chapter.

The end was in sight. In the weeks since leaving Goree, the ship had sailed its way around Africa and was now in European waters. They’d past the Canary Islands, Portugal, the Spanish mainland, and sailed around the coast of France. It had been clear in the morning when they passed through the English Channel. For the first time in her life, Mizu had seen the country where her mother came from. The shorelines of both England and France were visible from the ship. The English coastline was white, lined by the cliffs in the straight of Dover as Hideki had informed her. Soon enough she would be setting foot on English soil, the land she’d set out to reach all those months ago.

It felt foolish in a way, going on to Amsterdam when England was already in sight. Past the English Channel, they would be heading up through the North Sea until the came to Amsterdam. They still had two more days at sea before they were to reach their destination. Johannes had grumbled how Rotterdam was closer and if his bother-in-law had the sense to have stayed there they would not have as far to go.

In order to get to London, Mizu had to get through Amsterdam, and to do that she would have to deal with the VOC and Johannes’s family. The cook’s apprehension at seeing his family again seeped into the kitchen like blood from an open wound. He paced restlessly; he’d snapped at Taigen over trivial matters regarding dishes and chewed his nails until they bled. Gone was the level-headed cook she’d befriended over the open ocean. There was a terror in his eyes that Mizu had never seen before. He was afraid to go home.

Mizu had no idea what to expect from the VOC. They were too big and coordinated an organization to fight on her own and she hated how they were carving up the world in their image. Still, she had no choice but to make some sort of peace with them. She had not come to Europe to tear down the VOC, she’d come to kill the men who’d ruined her life and prevent them from ruining anyone else’s. She was going to London in hopes of finding justice and reuniting with whatever family members were willing to make her acquaintance. Once she’d done this, she and Taigen would go back to Japan and attempt to build themselves a life there despite how the world had changed them. The future loomed, as though it were a cliff, taller and steeper than the ones she’d seen off the coast of Dover in the morning.

Alone in her bunk, Mizu had nothing better to do than pace back and forth as the tried to outrun her thoughts within the confines of her room. The crew was gambling again, with Ryo off running the books as he always did. Mizu doubted she would see her bunkmate before dawn. Her head ached and her stomach grumbled, she’d been too nervous to eat much at dinner. She went to lay back down on her bed, still unable to sleep. She looked up at the ceiling, staring at nothing.

“Can’t sleep either huh.” Mizu jumped as Taigen walked in, sitting himself at the foot of her bed like a dog. She sat up, grateful for the company, “Do you think Johannes’s brother-in-law is as terrible as he seems to think he is?”

“He’s a VOC merchant, either we’ll work with him or work around him,” Mizu shrugged. It was easier said than done especially when she had no idea what else to do.

“Can’t believe I’ll be a foreigner for the first time,” Taigen ran his fingers through his hair nervously, “it’s one thing to be a sailor but now I’m actually going to stay in one place and it’s a place everyone knows I don’t belong. Everything will be new to me. I mean, I guess it’s the same for you, but you half belong in Europe.”

“Taigen, I don’t belong anywhere.” Mizu frowned. The Japanese had never fully accepted her, nor would the Dutch or the English. Only Ringo, and Swordfather, and the crew of the ship had ever offered her a place in the world.

“You belong with me,” he kissed her forehead and then her lips, “and you’re not alone, we’re not alone.”

“If you’re about to make a joke about the weevils in the hardtack-” Mizu rolled her eyes.

“No, I didn’t even think of that. I guess that’s one good thing we can look forward to once we’re back on solid ground.” He kissed her again; this time she kissed back.

“We had a whole life on this ship, my quest, the world, it’ll all be real again,” she noted as he kissed her neck, his hands finding their way under her yukata.

“Mizu, you need a distraction.” She dug her fingernails into his back as he fondled her breasts.

“You’re the greatest distraction I’ve ever met.” She pushed his yukata off his shoulders.

“So, I am great,” he smirked. Typical. Equal parts adorable and irritating.

“You have your moments.” She ran her fingers down his muscular back. As a swordsman he relied too much on his physical strength but when it came to sex Taigen was not without skill, “I still have to meet my family,” Mizu’s thoughts swirled in her mind, there were too many ways that she could go. It frightened her how much she hoped they would love her and feared how they might hate her very existence, “I thought my quest would satisfy me.” Taigen looked up at her, still tugging her belt.

“Oh, you want to be satisfied,” he stared at her, hungrily as he finished untying her belt, “this I can do something about.” He pushed her down, gently on her bunk. His rough, warm hands held her hips and she could feel his tongue down in her cunt as though he aimed to kiss it. Mizu had seen all sorts of things in brothels but until recently thought them all a waste of time. She’d had more sex in the past few months than she’d had in her entire lifetime. Would Madame Kaji be proud of her?

The moment Taigen found her clit with his tongue, Mizu stopped thinking. She felt herself becoming as wet as the ocean outside, waves of pleasure hitting her like a storm. She pulled at his hair, trying to hold on, moaning softly. She felt everything and nothing, as though the world around them no longer existed. Perhaps she was satisfied after all.

Notes:

This fic is on hiatus until September because I have a work trip. Should probably pack more than an hour before leaving this time.

Chapter 90: Johannes

Notes:

I'm back. Figured I'd branch out and write a Johannes POV chapter.

The cold autumn wind blew through the sails of the ship as they docked in the harbour, announcing the coming of winter. Johannes was unsure whether he was being welcomed or mocked by it. Amsterdam was a proper city, a merchant in a fashionable suit. Rows of houses stood neatly in orderly rows. They were visible from both the canals and the harbour. It was grander than Rotterdam, but Rotterdam was home. All these months of travel and it was only now that they were back in the Dutch Republic that Johannes felt a pang of homesickness in his chest.

“So, this is Amsterdam.” Taigen rubbed his eyes as he took in the city. Johannes had a similar reaction when he’d first landed in Japan. The realization that they were no longer travellers but simply foreigners in a land with no love for them.

“Yes. We’ve arrived. My brother-in-law will come for me shortly,” Johannes grimaced. There was the small chance that fatherhood had improved Aelbert Van der Veer’s character, but Johannes knew better than to get his hopes up.

“The canals, they kind of look like the ones in Batavia.”

“Of course, Batavia’s design was meant to resemble Amsterdam,” he explained. Johannes thought it was arrogant that the Dutch had designed a colonial city in their image.

“My father claimed his father was a Dutch sailor. I wonder if he came here?” Mizu studied the sailors in the harbour. Many of them were Dutch but as with any port, there were workers from all parts of the world.

“Not every Dutch sailor is from Amsterdam, but they’ve all come here, like it or not.” All roads might have led to Rome, but it seemed all ships led to Amsterdam.

“I see.” Mizu stared up at the seagulls flying around the mast of the ship. A rare familiar sight. She was in her men’s clothes which she wore as though they were armor. Agata and Cornelia would have fun dressing her up. Taigen would need new clothes as well. Johannes chose to greet his family in Japanese clothes, both to annoy his brother-in-law and because the Western clothes he’d left in had been eaten by rats on the trip in to Japan.

“How does it feel like to be back?” Taigen asked.

“It feels like a good day to get some herring, cheese, and nice Dutch bread,” along with bread and cheese, Johannes missed the Dutch style of marinated herring, “though best not eat too close to the harbour unless you want to share your meal with the gulls,” he warned. Johannes had more than once lost his lunch at the hands of the aggressive birds swooping in to claim their prizes. How the birds were not too fat to fly despite their thievery was still a mystery to him.

It was easier to joke about the birds than think about his own family. It was not as though Johannes had much to think about, his family was predictable. His mother would lecture him about how he needed to stop living in sin most likely quoting scripture in the process, his father would drink and make jokes, Agata and Jakob would go on about fashion, Cornelia would grumble about expenses and business acquisitions and Aelbert would boast about his wealth or prowess in one area or other. Johannes pitied Mizu and Taigen, they were blissfully unaware of the world they were walking into.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes when his brother-in-law approached the ship. Aelbert dressed in his usual pompous attire, clearly the man had not changed. He was talking with Daisuke, who was somehow able to maintain his professionalism in spite of not being able to get a word in. The old captain was used to dealing with the VOC, he was one of the many members of the ship’s crew that Johannes would miss. As Daisuke would be responsible for reporting the events of the voyage to the VOC, he’d left his son in charge of the ship. He supposed it was one way of keeping Ryo out of gambling dens even if it meant managing Fowler until his fate had been decided. The rest of the crew would come and go as they pleased until given further instructions on how to proceed. Beyond his family’s chaos, Johannes had no idea what to expect. He left his mind to wander, taking in the cold salty air of the port and listening to the wind.

“Hello brother,” Johannes jumped. He turned around. His sister stood in front of him, studying his attire. As always, she was immaculately dressed though not quite so flashy as her husband was.

“Cornelia!” He hadn’t expected her to come to the ship. She hated harbour, both the sailors and the gulls disgusted her.

“Glad to know you remembered my name. By the looks of it you’ve become one of those Japanese savages,” Cornelia frowned.

“If you want to see a savage beast I ought to take you down to the cargo hold. We’ve got an old Irish cannibal in there; he was hiding out in Japan and tried to overthrow the shogunate!”

“I suppose this means the Japanese were lying to us about the monopoly we have at the Dejima. Not surprised to see this wort of behaviour from the Irish, they are savages even at the best of times. Almost as bad as the French.”

“We should mom down there to read him scripture and warn him of his eternal damnation,” at this Cornelia laughed, “how is mom by the way?”

“A doting grandmother if ever there was one. She hardly lets little Floris out of her sight.”

“I look forward to meeting my nephew, I’m going to be a terrible influence on him,” Johannes smirked, Cornelia rolled her eyes, stopping only when she noticed Mizu and Taigen. Her eyes widened as she studied Mizu, she nearly lost her balance. Both women were raised worlds apart, both had blue eyes and brown hair, and both had one Japanese grandparent though Cornelia was still unaware of the latter fact. Mizu stared back at her, though Johannes was unsure of what ran through her mind.

“Well, well, well, you finally made some friends who don’t smell like cheese.” Johannes briefly considered tossing his sister into the harbour.

“Remember Kaito?”

“Dad’s old drunk friend, the one in Batavia chasing his ghost of a daughter?”

“Turns out that daughter of his wasn’t a ghost,” Johannes explained, “her name’s Mizu, she’s come to look for her mother’s family. And this is Taigen, he followed her.” He could see Mizu supressing a laugh out of the corner of his eye.

“What an unfortunate creature,” Cornelia tucked a lock of Mizu’s hair behind her ear, “all you know how to do is hide and I bet it’s still never enough,” she switched from speaking Dutch to Japanese.

“Be nice Cornelia,” Johannes warned.

“Of course, Johannes, I’m always nice. We’ll have to bring your friends home for dinner. They’ll need proper clothes.” Johannes was unsure if that was a promise or a threat. Cornelia led them off the boat, Mizu and Taigen taking their first ever steps on European soil. Their journey had just begun.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Cut Out For Something Else