♡

Death was supposed to be one last shuddering breath, one final bang! as that bullet signs your name at the end of your story. You suppose you could’ve stayed there forever, spiritually lying in the pool of your blood until it crusted, cementing you in place. Maybe you should’ve. Instead, you shoulder the anger, shoulder the grief of a you that you can’t remember. But here, atop the peak, scanning the world through squinted eyes– your heart comes alive with a force that shatters you.

Lights. Wagons. Hooves beating. A grouping of decaying buildings, surrounded by people and horses being led, lanterns aglow yet dimmed by the distance.

Fire. Screams. Copper on the wind.

The taste of it– metal, your cheek upon a railroad and the train’s whistle shaking a sob from your chest. Regret, the color of moonlight gleaming off that pistol’s silver barrel. Fuzz and blood renders your vision useless, whoever pulled the trigger blotted out by your demise.

Your insides, hollow and fruitless as they may be, stir. Answers lie below you, you’re so sure of it that you scramble, driving your heels into solid rock over and over to make haste. The repeated slam sends phantom shocks up your shins, gritting your teeth. It’s a funny thing, how in death, your basal instincts are the most alive they’ve ever been. You still find yourself breathing, hissing through your nose at what feels like the burn of ice in your lungs, but is really just your mind playing tricks on you. You still brace yourself as you tumble, careening down the side of the mountain as you lose balance. Rocks splinter, sent through the sky like shrapnel. Your arms cover your face, taking the brunt of every scrape. The thick ice blanketing the lake welcomes you, a singular thud as you then slide across it, your body formless enough to not crack it. Righting yourself to your knees, your nails shaving through the ice as you sluggishly shimmy across.

Exhaustion, the fiery lick of your energy’s depletion crawling along your spine, one last whimper before your arms entirely give out, barely making it to the solid ground bracketing the lake. Conserve. Waste. Bleed. Your mind’s last gift to you before slumber is a flickering image of your own corpse. With snow stained hands, you cradle your head, trying to soothe away every thundering pulse fracturing your skull.

“Shit,” A voice breaks through the peace of the trees. It duplicates and echoes, your hearing impaired by your lack of stamina. “Charles! There’s a- there’s somethin’ over here.”

Sun illuminates the scenery around you, the flash of white causing your eyes to flutter, barely able to open them. How long have you been here? Snow shuffles in your peripheral, fast and headed your way. Hands, strong and willing, dust at the snow covering you before falling, phasing. The sensation of moving slowly through water until they hit the ground underneath you. You blink. Craning your neck, you meet eyes with the owner of the hands still halfway through your abdomen. He’s bundled to the nines, still shivering with foggy breaths as his mouth opens in bewilderment. Gentle hooves emanate from behind him– Charles? You wonder, but you don’t have it in you to move much more than you already have.

“What is it, Arthur?” The other man’s rich voice warbles, your senses gradually returning to normal.

Arthur. You want to encircle his wrist with your fingers, croak out any semblance of a ‘how’ or a ‘help’. A ‘stay’, but his hands return to his sides with frightening quickness once he registers you as a whole. Your skin, colder than the snow encasing you. Your choice of dress, all tattered and bloodstained, sullied by dirt. His eyes go through the range of human emotion in rapid succession– confusion, recognition, a bitter second of what strikes you as fear. He won’t help you is what your heart buzzes as soon as you see it. You watch his fingers twitch, gloved hands treating you as some sort of artifact, like you weren’t his to find, and so he does his best to put you back in your natural state. Or, the state he found you in, at least. Snow sprinkles back on top of you, feeling every last bit of hope seep out of you.

“I…” Arthur licks his lips, dry and cracking in the harsh chill of winter. “I don’t know, think I was just seein’ things.”

You’re not looking at him, but you can see Charles too. Outside of yourself, you see him lean in your direction, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Arthur saw. To the world, you are just a misshapen density of snow– but Arthur saw you. He hikes himself up to a standing position, still looking down at you as he turns away to mount his horse. Everything in you starts to scream, primal and desperate. It hurts. It hurts, but you raise your hand, stretched in offering.

Is this the first time you’ve begged for your life?

Or were you here before? How many times will it be that you land at the feet of mankind, downtrodden?

“Let’s get back to camp, you can rest there.” Charles speaks, his horse starting to trot away with Arthur following behind.

He gives one last look over his shoulder, hushing his horse that seems to have been riled up by his unease. His hands ruffle at the animal’s mane, soft and tender.

With the blizzard finally dwindling, it’s not long before the two are gone. The hoofprints of their horses are stamped in the snow. You make a choice for yourself, here on the bank of the lake. On trembling hands and knees, you shake yourself off like some sort of dog and you push. You push yourself forward, following the clear tracks in deep snow. Left hand, left knee. Right hand, right knee. Your momentum never wavers, the rush of river water next to you akin to what would’ve been your heartbeat, your blood pumping through veins. All you have is yourself, all you have is all you can do. So you lower yourself to brute, below brute, as you clamber along. Grunts and gasps tearing through you, scaring off the docile animals of the land.

You have to find Arthur again. He’s the first mortal to ever see you, to ever have a reaction to your presence. That means something, means something to your frail heart that sits as a useless stone in your chest, means something to your living self jailed away in amnesia.

Arthur’s mouth runs dry the entire horseride back to camp. If Charles notices his demeanor, he doesn’t say anything. He raises an eyebrow in Arthur’s direction once, but the man’s gaze is glassy with something far too deep for Charles to pry out. The leather of Arthur’s gloves stretch and creak as his grip on his horse’s reins tighten. He’s never been one to believe in any fantastical story. He knows fact from fiction, knows the world’s truths run on blood and money and not much else. Hours ago he would’ve said there’s no such thing as ghosts. All those tall tales are just memories of someone you miss, your brain conjuring any way to keep them around for as long as possible. Re-enactments, plays, theatre.

So why can’t he shake the feeling? Write you off as some trick of the light?

Like dragging his arm through murky water to grab at a fish he caught just a glimpse of, only to end up empty handed and more disgruntled than before– and probably with Dutch and Hosea’s laughs ringing in his rapidly warming ears. Back there, though, there were no laughs. No lighthearted chime of “good try, Arthur”. Only inescapably loud silence rushed through him, a world contained in the space between your gazes as he looked down at what he thought was… he doesn’t know. A body? Dead, alive? As skeptical as he was, as he had always been, you were real. Real and shaking a foundation he had built up for decades. Closing his eyes haunts him, all the tears and bloodshed left in the gang’s wake crafting a horrible picture show in his mind. Arthur knows death. Knows it intimately, seen it ravage through people he loved and hated and all those agonizingly gray feelings in between. It’s as familiar as the clothes he wears, the hat he dons and the revolver he slides into his holster. It bears a weight he’s grown accustomed to, one he rarely is ever surprised by.

Your body, a flimsy and sheer thing cradled by the land, disrupts him immensely.

He knows you, too.

It took him the entire ride to figure it out, to find the memory that almost sputtered off the tip of his tongue the first moment he looked at you. He stews on it, chews the thought in hopes it becomes palatable at some point. Even as Pearson asks Arthur for help preparing the deer he and Charles caught, he finds himself only nodding and getting it done. The cook thanks him, decidedly not remarking on Arthur’s lack of precision, which he’s grateful for. Otherwise, how the hell would he explain that he’s so disoriented because he saw a damn ghost? With the gang in distress over Blackwater, John’s incapacitated state, and the recent lack of food, he was certain no one would believe him. They’d just find some entertainment in it, poking at old Arthur for finally going mad after everything.

He scratches his beard, sighing. Holding onto his hat, he ducks out of the small space Pearson’s taken up as the kitchen, heading towards the shack he’s holed up in with Dutch and Hosea. His boots thump against the aging wooden floorboards. The two are huddled up in chairs near a weakly crackling flame, their conversation halting. Arthur sidles up next to them, reaching his palms out to the fire, only a little warmth passing through his gloves.

“You two makin’ plans in here?” He asks, breaking the silence in an attempt to grasp onto any shred of normalcy he can.

“Something like that.” Hosea grunts, readjusting himself in his chair. His tone indicates he’s not exactly thrilled at whatever scheme Dutch has cooked up.

“I’ve been thinking about those explosives we stole from that O’Driscoll camp, what they were going to be using it for,” Dutch says. “I think it’s our train now, don’t you?” He nudges Hosea’s leg with the toe of his boot, nodding in Arthur’s direction at the same time.

Arthur pauses, thinking about it. They really did need the money, and doing this here and now was probably their best bet. “When’s it comin’ through?”

“Tomorrow. With the dynamite rigged up, it’ll be in and out.” Dutch is confident, knows his gang and knows their capabilities.

Hosea’s hesitant. “I just don’t think it’s the best time to be making such a scene.”

“If it’ll be as in and out as Dutch here says, won’t be much of a scene for anyone to see,” Arthur assures him. “Not gonna get far without cash, Hosea.”

The older man nods, gaze set upon the fire as he contemplates further. Finding Dutch won’t back down, he takes a step back. “Even though we planned to lie low… just make sure you and the others get some rest. You’ve been all over the place since we got here, Arthur.”

“Someone ‘round here’s gotta feed us.” Arthur grumbles, shaking his head.

“And you know we thank you for that, Arthur. Listen to Hosea, now.” Dutch gives him a proud pat on the back.

Arthur heads to his side of the building, bed tucked away and covered in what little blankets and furs the gang could manage to scrounge up. He had only been in here once, momentarily. Somewhere between chasing down that Kieran boy in pitch darkness and going hunting with Charles as the sun rose. Not enough for a restful sleep, and he sure as hell doubted he’d get any now. Groaning, he eases himself down onto the creaking wooden frame, boots getting chucked to the floor. The frigid temperatures had taken its toll on his joints, alongside the strenuous shooting, horseback riding, hunting. He flexes his fingers, guns feeling especially heavy lately. Arthur doesn’t afford himself much comfort, barely lays on the bed in a proper way. It’s more like he’s half on the bed half leaned against the wall, ready to leap up if any issues arose. His hat droops on his head, obscuring his eyes as he tries to get some shut-eye. All he can manage is a light dozing, but it’s enough.

Tapping. Scratching. Mists of a whispering he can’t make out.

Arthur’s up in a heartbeat, chest pounding. The windows of the room are covered in a frosty fog, interrupted by ten trails leading to two palmprints. He swallows, making no sudden movements in his efforts to upright himself. His hands were clammy in a way they haven’t been since he was just barely a teenager, out alone in the night and jumping at every noise you can’t place as friendly. All he can see is wind blowing through trees, the leaves shaking every which way. He sets his forehead on the glass, letting the chill enter his skin as he huffs. Maybe he really was going crazy… it’s his fault for not resting, after everything that’s gone down.

“Ar… thur?”

His eyes shoot open, breath sucked out of him in one abrupt gasp.

It’s you.

With your head tilted, eyes wide, nails drumming on the thin window pane. Expectant. Your pupils dart around his room, trying to assess it through the haze. Like you’re asking to be let in, polite in a way that borders on inhuman. Arthur winces at the implication, but he can’t lie. It intrigues him, sets his head wild out into a field of questions. You’re familiar, as familiar as his own reflection overlaid yours in the glass. Something in him stings, the unfortunate crutch that is his humanity making a choice before his brain can catch up. He clicks his tongue, jerking his head backwards, motioning you indoors as he steps away. It’s eerie, the next few seconds of you morphing through wood panels before standing whole in front of him. Eyes just as wide as they previously were, staring up at him in amazement. Shining with tears that can’t spill over, a mere suggestion as the valves and ducts in your body have shut down long ago.

“You must be lonely.” It tumbles out of Arthur’s mouth before he can stop himself. He prays the other two older men have since left, cheeks heating at the idea of being caught talking to thin air.

“Yes,” You say, eyes downcast. “For a long time.”

For a long time. Arthur grimaces. He thinks of the sight of you, the spitting image of despair and heartbreak as he pulled away from you like you were something wretched. He’s sorrowfully aware of just how much he understands you. You are on equal footing at a level undeserving of consideration, recognition… peace. Something beyond human, intangible. A thought, swift– you don’t deserve this.

“Do you know how you ended up here? Or… at the lake?” He asks, trying to gauge your situation.

“I can’t remember much… I was on top of the mountain, and I saw lights. Your people, your horses. Then, you, at the lake.” You’re mystified, magic on your lips as you speak of your encounter with him. “You are the first person who’s ever seen me.”

“First? How long you been…” He trails off, not sure if he should be so blunt about it.

“Dead?” You bite the bullet for him.

“That.”

“I don’t know,” You sigh, your form swaying to his bed to sit. To the best of your ability, which isn’t much, since you mostly just hover above it. “There’s bits and pieces of what I was, who I was… and I thought, if you saw me, I had to follow you.”

Arthur stays quiet.

“Please, help me.” You ask.

“Look,” Arthur began. “I really ain’t the man to ask.”

“Then who is?” You stand, facing him.

He exhales through his nose, rubbing at his tired eyes. Arthur is no saint. He can’t act as a judge, can’t determine whether you deserve the hand you’ve been dealt. He’s seen your cards, knows you’ve bet all in just by following him here. You took a wild chance and here he is before you, chips cracking between his fingers much like your faith cracks in your chest. He’s all you have, and he aches. Aches for the you that has nothing, aches for the him that stood in your place once– the world becoming terrifyingly empty as your last tie to it is severed. You become something that roams, roams until found again.

“Okay. Alright. I know… one thing ‘bout you, and I don’t think you’re gonna like it much.” He grits.

“That’s alright.”

“I remembered your face,” He contemplates how to continue. “Took me the ride to place it, but… few years back, saw you on a wanted poster. Dead or alive.”

Your eyes narrow, trying to verbalize your thoughts.

“Don’t recall where it was posted or the amount, but it must’ve been serious,” He guesses at the questions you may have, though you’re still silent. “Seems to me like you were some kind of outlaw.”

“Like you.”

Arthur snorts at that. “Yeah, like me.”

Your head hurts, the information whirring through you. If you could get sick, you’re sure you’d feel the nausea start bubbling up your throat shortly.

“There was a train.” It’s the last words your body can muster, drained to your last drop.

Between the arduous terrain you lugged yourself through and the revelation of your past, you’re running on nothing. Your knees find the floor before you can comprehend it, upper body flailing against Arthur’s bed. Weakly, you try to hold yourself up, but you can’t manage.

Conserve, waste, bleed.

There was a train. The one you stepped onto, bandana secure around your face as you waved your revolver high in the air. You can see it in the way you move. No hesitation, no second guesses. You’ve been at it a long time, long enough to accrue a bounty few could turn a blind eye to. The drawing flares behind your eyelids like a branding. Dark lines etched into paper similar enough to your likeness, bold lettering declaring your name and gang affiliation. Most noticeable was the heavily underlined reward total. Fifteen hundred, captured dead or alive.

Somewhere between train cars, there’s a boot stamped into your back. You’re heaved over the railing of the cart, your head battering against the ground below. It knocks the wind out of you, coughing heavy breaths as you try to regain your composure. Before you can, a hand wraps a fist around the back of your shirt’s collar, forceful enough to haul you down the rails, behind the unguarded caboose. The butt of your captor’s gun rocks into your cheek, laying you out. A bruise begins blooming on the side of your face, curling into ruthless tones of red and purple. Pistol-whipped and pathetic. The smell of dirt clinging to leather boots, spurs clicking as his feet repeatedly drive into your abdomen. Hooves tamping into firm earth, the vibration of them underneath you. Gunshots, screams. Lawmen? No, you can’t hear whistles, just… Coarse voices echoing throughout the train cars, out into the midnight air. Demanding cash, valuables. Heirlooms, prized possessions. Demanding lives. From below you can see the spattering of blood caking against the train windows, red and rolling. Gunpowder and rust, weak bones and agitated muscles.

“Fifteen hundred… that’s real money there,” The voice above you spits. “Tired of scrapin’ by on pennies, havin’ to split the share with you idiots.”

As subtly as you can, you try reaching for your holster. Your gun’s missing, lost somewhere in the scuffle. Dizzy and hoping to not hurl, you push up on your hands, staring the mysterious man in the face. You know him– someone you’d once consider a brother in arms, your fellow gang member. His hat drops a shadow over the upper half of his face, though he doesn’t bother with his bandana that’s still snug around his neck. His grin, teeth like tombstones, sends a shudder through you. Your eyes squeeze together, shaking your head. Were you in a better state, if you just had your gun, this would’ve been over in mere seconds.

Is that what you wanted to do?

“This ain’t right, you know it.” Your vocal chords scrape with every syllable.

“Does it matter?” He asks, pistol raising.

Regret. Staring down that moonlit silver. You think of every time you’ve been on the other end, the one pulling the trigger.

“For fifteen fuckin’ hundred dollars,” The gun cocks. Death has never been so loud in your ears, the siren song of an early grave. “I don’t think it does.”

The bullet zips through the air faster than you can perceive it. With the barrel still smoking, he fires off another. Your vision dwindles to black, muddied by blood trickling down your face.

You don’t know how long it’s been when you finally come to once more. You’re laid out across Arthur’s bed, no longer stretched thin between hardwood and mattress. There’s a blanket haphazardly placed on you– half sunken into the parts of your body you couldn’t control in your senseless state, half covering you. It’s sweet. The first act of kindness you’ve encountered since your passing, since crossing into the realm of the undead. Sitting up, you take notice of Arthur. Unceremoniously shoved into an obviously uncomfortable wooden chair in the corner, hat obscuring his eyes as he dozes. Still wrapped up in his coat, deep breaths rising from his chest.

Is it wrong of you to stare? To rise, stand above him, and glide the back of your knuckle down from his temple to the stubble adorning his jaw? All callous edges, worn by sun and age, by life. Your gaze swipes over the scars planted on his skin, from nose to chin. Your touch is odd. You can make out what it’d be like if you were real, solid. Locked away deep in what your brain knows, recognizable textures and temperatures. Trying to linger too long would result in failure, remembering you’re a ghost and that the sensations of skin and muscle are just as much an illusion as you are. Your only real proof of existence appears in the mirror of his irises as he awakes, peering up at you. It’s the first time he doesn’t flinch when he sees you.

Arthur wouldn’t say he’s afraid of you. It’s not exactly pity, either. He’s not sure what burns inside of him as he lets you continue mapping his person, down his neck and wisping into the curls at the back of his head. For a long time. Your words repercuss in his ears. He’s the same. Even frigid, even just the faintest hint of it, when was the last chance he got for someone to touch him with all the gentleness in the world? You have nothing but forever, and in your eternity you’ve chosen a moment in which time slows to this point. Slows to incorporeal matter strumming string-like nerves that have long been out of tune. A lump in his throat forms. Was it wrong of him to indulge in a luxury he swore to himself he’d given up? His hands, reluctant and timid like reaching out to an animal you’re trying to acquaint yourself with, hover at your waist. He sees your stare shift, now twinkling as stars dotting space.

You’re real here, tethered down by leather, by thumbs flowing circles through your diluted soul. He knows you, and you fear you may know him too.

“Arthur!” Dutch.

Your heartbeat scatters like a wild flock of birds, watching Arthur’s head snap up to the doorway. His hands fall to his side. You mourn the warmth that radiated from them, forlorn and wishing to be reacquainted with the thrill of it as soon as possible.

“We’ve got a train to rob, if you couldn’t remember.” Dutch laughs, haughty and confident.

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur stands, huffing. He tips his hat, hoping the shade could obscure the heat evident on his cheeks. “Was just restin’ like you asked.”

“Bill’s riding out now to start rigging dynamite,” Dutch says. “We’re going soon, so get prepared.”

A twist of ice slithers up your throat as soon as the man leaves, looking at Arthur with questioning eyes.

“You’re robbing a train?” You ask, wringing your hands.

“Yes,” Arthur grunts, sitting down to put his boots back on. “Kind of what outlaws do, ain’t it?”

“Of course…” You mumble, nodding along. “It’s just… I’m worried for you?”

You hide your sincerity behind the mask of a question, as if you’re afraid to reveal any more of yourself to him. You are, in spite of knowing he’s seen the wanted posters. Knows that you know the life, the expectations of being in a gang. You shoot, you steal, you survive. Whatever other ideals the appointed leader may choose to dress that up with is oftentimes just for show. Even now, though you couldn’t grasp the finer details, you knew something similar must have happened to you, to your gang. Preaching closeness, friendship, actual bonds none of you could find in the civilized world… snuffed out by greed. Cyclical and imminent, the seed of deception planted in the belly of humans long ago. Watered by time and taking root, always bearing rotten fruit. A starved man will squish his teeth to the core in search of sweetness.

And here you are, seed on your tongue, fork in the road.

Those who are hungry are given two options. Eat, be full, go on your merry way– shoot, steal, survive. Or lay down your guns, settle yourself into the softest dirt you can scavenge for, close your eyes– conserve, waste, bleed.

Arthur watches you, the way your eyes flit about, unsaid tension threatening to snap at any minute now.

“Done it plenty of times before.” He understands your thinking.

The steps you’ve taken to end up the apprehensive mess that you currently are. He’s seen it on the face of so many. It makes him falter, clicking his tongue as their melancholy facial features spring to mind. With you, though, there’s something that lurks beneath the surface of your worry. Exhaling through his nose, he gives you a stern look– not out of anger, but exasperation. To hear you say it. Something he thinks he’s known for a while now, the mess of Blackwater, the frantic fleeing, the writing on the wall. It’s less about his faith in Dutch– that still hums true in every bone of his body– and more so about the forces they’re up against, that have strengthened tenfold since Arthur joined in on these misfit ways. Civilization yearns for a do-over, a washing of the impurities people like them muck up society with. After the ferry job went south, they were certainly first on the list to capture.

Your hands rise, planting them on his chest. Your fingers brush at the fur that peeks out of the lining of his coat, alleviating some of your woes. How much of yourself should you peel back to let him take a peek at? How do you remind him of the harsh ways reality works without scaring him off, without bruising his devotion to the people he cares for?

“Everyone’s got a choice, Arthur.”

“I know,” His eyes are solemn as they look down at you. “We just need to keep moving.”

You sigh, nodding even if you don’t quite agree.

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“Arthur!” You’re cut off by Dutch’s voice, booming from outside.

He takes one last glance down at you, at your hands. Arthur’s hand brushes up the length of your arm, to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze to try to console you. The pressure, strange and only vaguely there, is enough of a distraction that he’s able to slip away. You watch him go, watch the sky and snow swallow him whole, watch the door swing closed as some sort of goodbye.

Everyone has made it back safely. You spy from the treeline and do a headcount, though you’re having a hard time putting names to faces, especially in the dark muddiness of nightfall. Charles didn’t go, you know that much. Is Bill one of them, the one who was supposed to be dealing with explosives? Everything you know about these people is in fragments, pieced together by what little you’ve seen as you’ve roamed the area. Arthur doesn’t turn up, lighting the fear of something fierce in you. You pace, diligently focused on the road into Colter. They all seemed to be in good spirits– Dutch, you think, handed a stack of papers to the older gentleman you haven’t learned the name of yet. You hoped they wouldn’t be celebrating if they had lost someone, but… your killer’s face gleams in the back of your mind, just a split second of terror.

Who can you trust if not your own family? Is it safe to rely on something as fallible as the human spirit, or is it just easier than being alone?

Wind rustles the leaves, the forest ambience surrounding you. The gang has retreated into their living quarters for the time being, leaving Colter as abandoned as it’s always been. You, as abandoned as you’ve always been. Time is much harder to perceive as a ghost, you’ve learned. Minutes can either feel like seconds or hours. Days stretch to weeks stretch to months. You try to base things off the sun, though it slows and quickens and blurs in your vision, the cycle of it rising and setting helps. There’s footsteps behind you, the crunch of snow beneath boots. You turn your head in time to be met with a tip of Arthur’s hat.

“I was lookin’ for you, you know.” he says, squinting.

“I didn’t see you come back,” you tell him, the nerves in you slowly being soothed away by his presence. “I was looking for you too.”

“Were you now?” Arthur teases, lips upturned and the timbre of his voice surging over you.

“Yes,” you don’t hide it, unashamed in your growing affection for the man. “I was scared something happened to you.”

“Naw, I’m alright. Told you there was nothing to be worried about.”

You scan over him quickly. Your eyebrows furrow at the distinct lack of mess on his clothes. Train robberies can get rough, and especially this one from what you’ve gathered about it being privately owned by some wealthy businessman. It’s unusual to return from one of these without even a minimal spray of blood staining you.

“Don’t worry about all that,” he steps closer to you, leading your eyes back to his face. “I… thought about what you said. Tried to keep it as clean as possible.”

“What now?” you ask, looking back at the buildings everyone was huddled into.

“We’re movin’ on tomorrow, early in the morning.” Arthur keeps his voice quiet, not wanting it to sneak through cracks in the wood for an unwanted audience.

Every so often his gaze lands behind you, checking the vicinity for anyone lurking.

“You know where?”

“Hosea said something about some Horseshoe Overlook, down in New Hanover,” Arthur clears his throat. “Now, I don’t know how you, or this, works but… if you can, and you want to, you can come on down too.”

“That’d be okay with you?” you ask, hopeful.

You don’t want him to be extending the offer purely out of courtesy. There’s so much more you have to say, so much more of yourself you have to discover. What you don’t want is to be responsible for holding him back. Holding his tangible and real life back. There’s something nice, though, about knowing he was looking for you, waiting to ask you to come along. You didn’t even have that while you were alive. Your gang was close, you thought so at least, but nothing ever truly sprouted from that– you figure you were the outlier, the only one who didn’t treat it as a means to an end.

You want him to want you around, as foolish as that makes you sound.

“Well, ‘course it would,” Arthur shrugs. “Might even be… good for you. More of the world you see, more of your memories will come back. If that’s how this all goes.”

“It wouldn’t bother you none? You’re sure?” you’re digging with a particular aim in what you want to hear.

Arthur huffs, laughing some as he takes the hint. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’d like it.”

He’s not really one to verbalize his more vulnerable wants, not so directly at least. There’s a sense of relief as the words roll off his tongue, questioning himself if maybe it isn’t so bad to be honest with you. Could it really do him any harm? There’s a tiny voice in his head that says yes, it absolutely could, Arthur Morgan– but it gets whisked away by the reverie of you, a hand fanning away smoke, fanning away the mirages of everything that haunts him. They’ll always sit deeply in his chest, resting in his lungs. Always there, never gone and never forgotten. Just… reminders, cautioning him to ride slow, ride careful. He could do that, would do that, here with you. With his curiosity piqued, he had so many questions for you, hoping you’d answer them in time. The world dubbed you a criminal with that wanted poster, leaving Arthur with more questions than he could come up with. He wanted to know if you were like him– so much so that it was probably to his detriment.

“Then… I suppose I’d like to try. I’ll have to rest for a while, make sure I can go that far.” you smile, probably the first one Arthur’s seen out of you. “Are you heading to bed?”

He visibly shivers, contemplating his next actions. Arthur walks past you until he stops, beckoning you forward. “C’mon, now. Thought you’d follow if you’ve gotta rest too.”

You stumble awkwardly behind him, finding it difficult to keep up with his pace. There’s a part of you that almost laughs when he holds the door for you, something you could’ve phased right through with some effort. Still, it’s polite of him in a way that warms your frozen edges. The rest of this building is empty so far, the other men from before seemingly elsewhere. Your shoulders lose their tension, following Arthur with less fear than before now. You watch from the doorway of his claimed room as he goes through the motions of shedding the day from himself. It’s far too cold to completely disrobe, but his boots are shucked off in a matter of seconds. He pauses, as if remembering you’re right behind him.

Clearing his throat, he mutters. “Sorry. Could be a bit more proper, I s’pose.” Which leads into him picking up his boots and sorting them to the end of the bed, straightened out and tidy.

Lowering himself to take a seat on the edge of the bed, you can practically hear the exhaustion seep out of him, hissing out into the air. You frown, walking to stand in front of him. You know what it sounds like when someone’s crumbling from the weight placed on them. The weight of endless wanted posters, a bounty made of more money than you’ve ever legitimately earned– the so-called life of an outlaw. At the start of it all you think you’ve been saved, been brought into something worthwhile, until you realize just how swiftly the past returns your sins. Which bullet will be the one to ricochet through time?

When the illusion shatters, it shatters hard, and all those grains of glass bleed you dry until every sense of wonder you’ve had is washed away.

It’s a slow process of bloodletting, though, and wherever Arthur is in that journey… you’d hate to rush him and send him back to where he came from. It’s a sensitive ordeal, one you couldn’t leave alive. Every instinct in you says he can’t either. You figure he’s too sane to believe mysterious omens from a ghost, but…

“You’ll die, Arthur.”

He can’t meet your eyes, not even when you try to put your hands on his shoulders. He at least doesn’t shrug away the chill, doesn’t shrug off the warbling sensation of your touch. You’re face to face with the grim facts you’ve been trying so hard to catch up to, yet now you only wish that you had ran, careened down the other side of the mountain. To save Arthur the torture of knowing– not that you could.

No one saved you, and there is no one you can save either.

There’s a small comfort in the way he leans forward, forehead to your chest.

There’s a small comfort in knowing you’ll be following him down the mountain, to whatever Horseshoe Overlook holds for you.

There’s a small comfort in knowing you’ll have good company in the afterlife.

Disregarding your trepidation, or at least refusing to comment on it, he slides an envelope your way over the table. Contained inside is a collection of black and white photographs depicting a well-furnished home.

“It’s owned by Russian nobles,” He leans over with his elbows on the table, a fang-toothed grin taking over his face. “We can marry again, there.”

Your brows shoot up at that, eyes trained on him to see if you can detect any hint of humor in his words. Your attempt to speak up is interrupted by a waiter coming by, taking your plate and replacing it with a sweet dessert.

Giving you no time to question him, Taigen resumes. “Soon enough, I’ll get notice from the asylum staff that my wife has passed.”

“Oh,” You pause, a strawberry dotted with cream nearly in your mouth as you instead lower your fork. “I thought you’d ask them to just keep her there.”

“Mm, well, I supposed she wouldn’t like to live there very long. Besides, you should’ve both known by now that I’m nothing if not a bastard.” He chuckles at that remark, though you couldn’t find it within you to even huff.

Digging into his suit jacket, he pulls out a passport. Inspecting its contents, you’re impressed with how polished the forgery is. With this, you’d officially become Mizu. Any legal traces of your old life would be no longer as soon as Taigen received word from the hospital.

“I’d like for us to get married again, once you take up her name.”

You scoff at that, shaking your head.

“I’ve come to like you, actually.” He tells you, and the unmistakable feeling of your veins running cold freezes you in place.

“Has it ever occurred to you to think about Mizu? She’s all alone in that wretched place.” It’s your best attempt at changing the subject. After all, she was the only one on your mind anyway.

You think of how, if she were here, dining next to the two of you– her chair closer to yours, hand perched on your thigh to soothe your nerves– she would’ve let her head rear back and cackle in Taigen’s face. For him to have any notion in his mind to genuinely confess romantic attraction to you… you have to think of her laughter so that you don’t cry. You have to think of the way she’d choke on her breath at how pathetic he is, even in an establishment such as this. No concern for social expectations, just utter amazement at Taigen pursuing the impossible. How her hand would travel a smooth path up your back and would curl around your shoulder as she tells him you’re spoken for.

“Why would I care?” Taigen snorts. “For how she was raised, you would think by now she would’ve seen it coming.”

“And you would think you wouldn’t fall for your partner in crime, Taigen.” Is about all you can muster up, hoping to dissuade him.

“Ah,” He shrugs, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. “To be honest with you, I can’t find myself minding, even if my love for you ends up costing me everything.”

Bile tickles at your throat at his nonchalant use of the word ‘love’, as if any of the time you two had shared could reasonably end with love as its conclusion. As if the bloodthirsty way his hands had touched you was love. As if all his greedy want for your money was love. From your end, you could’ve only summed it up with indifference. Disgust, even, if you wanted to push it that far.

Love burrowed itself far deeper in the reaches of your heart. That’s what you knew. Love was… it was someone rushing after you, finding you teary-eyed at the top of a staircase. Carrying you back to your bed and staying until sleep came to you, trick and all. A pair of shoes you couldn’t fathom scuffing, couldn’t bear to muck with mud. Floating, fragrant petals in cozily warm water. The flavor of bittersweet candy, a thimble grinding down all the painful parts of you that hurt. Earrings that, when you wear them, serve only to remind you of the eyes you wish you were looking into rather than your own reflection. Gentle hands undoing all superfluous buttons and laces without tearing into the skin underneath. A thin layer of sugar glazed over lips you wished to kiss forever. Cries of her name that wisped away in the blackness of night. Pitiful remnants of a library as she stood unshaken, metal baton in hand to ward off your suffering. Huddling closely for body heat when freezing fog rolls over the two of you. Blue waves of the sea, a halo-esque ring of light. Verdant hills accompanied by her husky chatter in your ear.

Love was companionship.

Love was her.

“With all due respect, I’m not quite sure what you’d know of love.”

Mizu scowls at the handful of rice she holds, the lifeless body of an insect poking out from where she had just bitten. She had to eat to survive her stay here, of course, but fuck. Sighing, she rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck, joints popping. The scratchy fabric of hospital clothes weighed on her. There was no room for distrust between the two of you anymore, she knew that. Still, she can’t shake the twinge of worry thrumming through her. Not that you’ll leave her– you wouldn’t, and she can’t believe that for the first time in her life, that’s actually true of somebody– but of you, alone, with Taigen. If he had even an inkling of what’s been plotted behind his back, it wasn’t certain how he’d react. Intrusively, the thought that he might hurt you claws at her. Rice squishes in her hand as she finds herself clenching her fist, leg shaking and chains clanking around her ankles. Mizu tries to be a patient woman. Tries to not immediately want to cut down everything in her path, but… Shit, she wishes she had pushed Taigen off that fucking boat, passport be damned.

More simply put, she just missed you. Never before had she known the ways of love, and she had lived most of her life believing everyone around her would leave, or that she somehow deserved that rocky emptiness of being alone. It became clear to her over time that you were the same– so savagely left abandoned in a world you could only escape through death. Even then, was it an escape if the cycle repeated beyond your passing? It’s funny to her now, how she had shown up at your door expecting some naive, immature girl who wouldn’t have cared about her at all. She was so, so certain that you’d be disgusted with her, eagerly taking the opportunity to run away with a handsome, wealthy man. Mizu could’ve never predicted you, all your melancholic radiance that had enraptured her. How carefully you had pieced yourself together and how, crashing into her, you’d let her handle every unsightly, jagged shard of you. Every time you brushed against her, touched her, held her arm or her hand– it was in that she found meaning. Entirely reorganizing herself into a protector, into somebody worth protecting in return. Her fingertips trace along her lower lip, thinking of saccharine candy, ripe peaches, and the night she made a promise to you.

She’ll carry that promise to the end of the world.

Before her mind can return to visualizing the many ways to dispose of Taigen, heat crawls its way through the asylum. Thick, heavy smoke laden with ash creeps across the ceiling, the distinct scent of fire apparent. Ironically, it’s the first time since arriving here that Mizu feels like she can really breathe.

Finally, she’s able to pluck a hair pin from her usual updo. A thin piece of metal that luckily no one had bothered to confiscate. One of the nurses rushes to the doors, throwing them open to reveal dark, fiery clouds rolling in. Amidst the commotion of patients and staff alike hollering, Mizu reaches down to her shackles to start picking the locks. Freeing herself, she’s greeted by familiar faces– or, familiar bodies, rather– as her friends from back home don gas masks and makeshift protective gear. In all honesty, they look silly to her and she thanks whatever powers there are that you won’t have to see her like that. As much as she believes in your goodness and as much as she revels in the way you dote on her, she’d like to retain some shreds of her dignity beyond this whole affair. The sight is certainly something you wouldn’t let her live down.

Her old colleagues fuss over her, hurriedly getting her own mask and gear on. Mizu doesn’t even take a second to consider the risk of literally walking through fire with only shoddy equipment to protect her. So deliberately focused not on her survival, but yours. Getting you out of Taigen’s grasp and into safety. Into her arms, where she hoped you felt safest. And, perhaps a bit selfishly, she wanted to feel your lips at the crown of her hair. To rest her chin in the middle of your chest and close her eyes and not feel underlying dread. Splay the length of her fingers across your lower back to feel the realness of your skin. That once miniscule throb in her heart had grown, overwhelmingly emerging as what she could only call desperation. Desperation for your domesticity– stability she had never yearned for nor thought she needed.

But now, when the portrait of you as her wife had taken residency in her mind, there was nothing more she wanted. Every possibility of a life with you had rooted itself within her. She recalls the moment you had told her you could’ve even been happy staying with your fiance, as long as she was your handmaiden. Remorse chewed at her, thinking if she had confessed sooner that you wouldn’t have thought so lowly of yourself. Like you needed to convince her with wealth and extravagance to make her stay. Wherever the two of you ended up, it didn’t matter to her. Home could be a cabin built in the solitude of snowy mountains. Somewhere in the city accompanied by busy foot-traffic and bustling markets. Out in the grassy, sunny countryside with some animals or farmland. Little dwellings by the shore, a river, a lake. Even some kind of desert where she’d cringe at the heat and sweat dripping down the back of her neck. Anywhere, she decided. She’d take you anywhere after all this was over, as long as it meant never seeing your eyes gloss over with tears again.

Home was companionship.

Home was you.

Mizu wasn’t sure when she had become so sentimental. So sappy that she had to swallow down a lump in her throat, a tightly wound density of all her terror and all her adoration.

Drumming pulses in your ear, you can’t seem to slow your heartbeat. You’ve separated into hotel rooms for the night, Taigen no longer in your presence. Staring down at the two glasses you’ve filled with wine, you try to work up some courage within yourself. This is likely the only chance you’ll have to rid yourself of him. Clutching the vial in your hand, you unscrew the cap. His wedding gift to you, the tiny glass filled with liquid opium that, should your fiance have ever found you, would’ve been enough to kill you. Shakily, you tip it just so that a few drops cascade down into the alcohol. You could only hope he had been truthful about how strong the substance was.

If Mizu was here, you guessed, she’d be able to do this no problem. You hadn’t been oblivious to the intensity of her stares pointed towards Taigen. Though, back then, it wasn’t clear if it stemmed from jealousy or plain annoyance. The man’s arrogance was always laid on thick when he was near, so it came to no surprise to you that someone like Mizu wouldn’t be fond of him.

You give yourself a little self-assuring nod, determined to go through with the plan. He’d be the best at locating you two if it ever came down to that, and you knew it wasn’t a chance you could take with your fiance also likely to be on your trail. If he wasn’t already. Grabbing the two glasses, you figured all you could do was move forward. Even if you couldn’t bestow yourself with some false bravery, you at least knew you could do this for Mizu. For her survival, the likelihood that you two could reunite. What else could possibly matter more at this moment?

Even still, your steps as you make your way to Taigen’s door are hesitant. Realistically, while there were many paths your actions could take, there were only two possible outcomes. Either Taigen’s death, or… yours. You learned a long time ago that death was not all that terrifying. You were no stranger to welcoming it, even. Worse than that was the idea of leaving Mizu all alone. Shaking your head, you knock on the door. From outside, you can hear Taigen groan and the faint creaking of bed springs as he lifts himself up.

He seems surprised to see you, but he gestures you inside anyway. Taking a wide step away from him to make your way in, you clear your throat.

“I wanted to come offer my gratitude for what you’ve done for me,” You tell him, hoping there’s no wobble in your dictation as you put on a deceitfully flirtatious smile. “I supposed that I could at least offer you a kiss.”

Handing him one of the glasses you have, he shakes his head. “No.”

“And why not?” Your eyes dart to where he holds his drink, having not taken a sip yet.

“I can tell that it’s not something you truly want,” Taigen sits on his bed– covered in a layer of money– eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t want just a kiss like that.”

“I see,” You nod, clicking your tongue. “And if I gave you ten minutes? What would you give me?”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “Anything.”

Taigen stands so suddenly that it startles you briefly, before his lips are wetly planted onto yours. One of his hands is already firmly at your waist, digging into the fabric of your clothes, trying to get under them. Inwardly, you recoil at his nature– so forceful, impatient. Nothing like Mizu, who takes only when you enthusiastically give. Leaves you waiting until you’re wanting, wanting, wanting. When his lips part from you, you slowly blink as you come to your senses, seemingly forgetting where you were as you thought about the one you wished you were with.

Thumb toying with your bottom lip, Taigen grins. “I’ll spend these ten minutes teaching you so much.”

Nauseating. Raising your drink, you take large, nervous gulps of the wine. Hoping to encourage him to do the same, as he has yet to indulge. The thought that he might know throbs at the back of your mind, a painful ache that you aren’t sure how to soothe yet.

His mouth finds its way onto your neck, repulsively blazing down the exposed planes of your body. It’s fine, for now, you think. Let out a staccato of exaggerated, feminine moans and he’ll be none the wiser. Abruptly he begins to peel at the neckline of your clothes, pulling the sleeves down your arms until your chest is bare. Discomfort bubbles up, and you take his jaw in your palm, guiding him downwards so the two of you are kneeling on the carpet. Forcing his drink out of his grasp, you sip, retaining it in your mouth. Clumsily, you knock your face against his to try to kiss him, spilling the drugged alcohol into his mouth. His eyes are wide as he fumbles, swallowing frantically as a few droplets escape. So you do it again, another rush of wine into his system until his cup is empty. Taigen’s head drops to the nape of your neck, once again ghosting his lips over your bare skin. A smear of wine stains you, clinging at his biceps to keep him from falling over on top of you. Body swaying, his strength was slowly sapped out of him by the opium.

Relief floods you as you crawl away from him, watching as he faceplants onto the floor limply. As grim as it is, you feel a bit giddy as you hop up to your feet once more. Tapping at the side of his head with a socked foot, he lays unmoving. Failing to show any signs of life, you’re immediately rifling through his discarded suit jacket, retrieving his passport. The next few minutes go by in a flurry for you. Tearing apart his wardrobe to take his clothes and cramming as much of the money layered on his mattress as you can into the briefcase he’d brought with him. Adrenaline coursed through you in staggering waves, nearly numbing your fingers as you worked. Mizu was waiting for you, and finally, you would be on your way to her. How many days since you last saw her had you spent looking at the sky, thinking it could never compare to the blue of her irises? How many times had you looked at Taigen, willing your mind to see Mizu across from you instead? How many times had you licked your lips, praying you could taste the tang of her sugar on them?

Mizu– the syllables of her name, the bells of her laughter, the shine of her eyes– all of her, spilling over in your mind until she tints every corner she touches.

Soon, is all you could think. Soon, she’ll be yours again.

The next time Taigen wakes, he’s splayed out on the floor, drool soaking into the pristine carpet underneath him. Groggily turning his head, he’s greeted by two swordsmen. He could only guess they were sent by your fiance. Clicking his tongue, he lowers his forehead back to the ground.

“Fuck.” He breathes, ever aware of how screwed he is.

It isn’t long before he’s hauled into some carriage to take him back to your estate, wrists bound together. Still, he manages to fish his cigarette case out of his pocket, taking the last three white papered ones and lighting them all to smoke.

It’s there, the library, where Taigen finally learns what you meant. When you two had first met and you had told him you would never go back to the basement. Claustrophobic and frigid, the dark room is practically a dungeon. A brutal display of all your fiance's grotesque perversions, hidden away from prying eyes. The overtness of it all even makes Taigen a bit queasy, though there’s nothing he can do about it as he’s strapped down to a chair. Fingers forcefully placed into some well sharpened bookmaking tools, once a proper thing that your fiance had cherished. Madness apparent, your fiance sat reading a letter you had written to him aloud.

Taigen’s consciousness drifted in and out, delirious from shock, fatigue, and pain. What he understood from what you had written was simple and struck directly at his ego– you had thanked him for sending Mizu to you. His shoulders raise in a self-deprecating chuckle at that, shaking his head and staring at his feet restricted below him.

“Can I…” Taigen heaves, ignoring the echoing drips of blood. “Can I at least smoke a cigarette, mister?”

Your fiance snorts. “What an idiot,” He rummages through Taigen’s jacket, finding the tin he was looking for. “I’ve arranged it so that no two girls can leave together, anyhow. They’ll be back with me soon enough.”

Placing the blue-wrapped cigarette between Taigen’s lips, he lights it for him as well. “Now, come on…” Your fiance goads, a malicious smile on his face. “At least tell me about your wedding night with her.”

Taigen grunts, inhaling the smoke deeply. He’s not surprised by the question in the slightest, now more familiar with your fiance’s ways than ever. The readings were already depraved enough as it is, but now, this room he was trapped in… Again, it made even him start to feel the swirls of distaste in his gut. Foolish man, he thought. Foolish for not just taking the money and running. His mind drifts to the night your fiance shamelessly asks about. There, at the inn concealed in the depths of a forested mountain, you had him fooled then too.

Worried that Mizu would be listening in, Taigen urged the two of you to ‘do your best’. Stepping away from him and disrobing, you had laid yourself on the bedroll, completely covering yourself under the blanket that had been provided. Taigen crawled over on his knees, caressing the side of your face, impressed at your beauty. Attempting to press his lips against yours, you had unsheathed a dagger and pointed it in his direction. In your eyes was a fire, the statement ‘no’ very clear in the flames.

Taigen pauses, taking his last blue-wrapped cigarette and lighting it. Breathing the smoke in deeply once more, he shakes his head. Remembering the truth but covering it up with some falsities that get your old man peculiarly excited.

That night you had pleasured yourself, Mizu’s humming drifting through the air. He demeans himself a little, thinking he should’ve known right there and then it was never going to be him who made it out alive. From above the fabric of your sheet, even he could tell the rhythm of your desire was harmonious with Mizu’s voice. How, when put together, your moans and her tune, made a complete song. When your finishing wail had sliced through the silence, you took the dagger to your palm to allow droplets of your blood to fall upon the bedroll. Convincing enough, he thought.

Tendrils of tinted smoke curl through the room, sitting thickly in every space it could. Taigen’s eyes squint as he watches your fiance grow weary, stumbling as he coughs.

“You know,” Taigen’s tongue darts out and wets his lips, lethargy overtaking him as well. “Mercury is the most fatal in its gaseous form.”

The older man falls to the floor, ailing and helpless.

Taigen rears his head back, taking quick breaths of the smoke, hoping the fatal gas invades his lungs even faster. As he fades, the last image in his mind is of all three of you cramped in that tiny wooden vessel before reaching the ferry.

Of your body, curving into Mizu’s as you tightly hold her hand. Of your face, where there’s a hint of a grin more venomous than he remembers, teeth sharply biting through the haze of silvery fog.

Of him, poignantly alone and rowing.

Mizu has always prided herself on her ability to keep herself calm. She’s always been levelheaded, capable of being rational in even the worst of times. The room resounds with the never-ending clicking of her shoes as she paces back and forth, eyes sternly on the floor. You should be here soon. Or, should you have been here already? Ignoring the burning stares of her friends who had rescued her from the hospital, anxiety starts to cloud her mind. Was there a chance you’d left her? Worse, was there a chance you were still plotting with Taigen? Or… what if you really did like him? More than you liked her? She wasn’t oblivious to the way his gaze started to shift when it landed on you. Being apart from you, it was so easy to let her lack of confidence swallow her whole. An insecurity she hid well, always seeming so self-assured. Here, without you, she couldn’t search for the sparkle in your eye, or the upwards quirk of your lips, or the subtle flush on your cheeks. Those things that only happen when you look at her. As if she’s someone precious, someone to be adored. Someone who was wanted. Even just imagining your bashful expression is enough to send her heart racing, hoping to be reunited with you sooner rather than later.

Outside, the streets are lively, people going to and fro. Weaving your way through them, at what you hope is a normal pace so as to not draw attention to yourself, your attention fully set on the various signs leading you to your destination. Directions repeated themselves in your head like a mantra, making sure you couldn’t miss any turns. Picking up speed, you briskly make a turn down a more narrow alleyway that takes you face to face with the building you had planned to meet Mizu at. While the doors were far less ornate than what you were used to, they still intimidated you all the same. With luck, she’s here. Hoisting yourself up the concrete steps, you raise your fist to knock. Before you can make contact, the doors swing open with a force that tumbles you down the steps, dropping the bag of money you’d taken. Carefully catching your footing, you look up at what’s caused the commotion.

A pair of ice blue eyes greets you, and finally. The cracks of your heart have begun to fuse themselves together, the warmth of her lapping at your wounds to heal you. Shattered thing that you are, made anew by the way her arms cling around your waist with ardent fervor. Her hair, loose and tousled, catching the rays of sun. Laughter ringing in your ears as all you can do is clutch at her. Arms tossed over her shoulders, gripping at the fabric of her kimono as you nuzzle yourself into the crook of her neck. Your body nearly tears itself in two, half gasping in mirthful giggles, half gasping in shaking sobs. Mizu’s hand pets at your hair, cradling the base of your skull and softly shushing you. For this brief moment, everyone else has crumbled away and that dream of yours truly exists, much like it did in that grassy field as the two of you ran. For this brief moment, the world is two people and the sidewalk they stand on. It’s the frenzied path that Mizu’s hands follow, up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms to your wrists until she takes your face in her palms– like she’s afraid of separating from you even for a minute.

Her thumbs drag through the still wet tear tracks on your cheeks, her lips parted. You watch as her eyes flick about, mapping out every detail of your features she can. Committing them to memory, as if you two would ever be apart again. When her eyes trace a path down to your mouth, there’s a shy flutter of her lids, a momentary dart of her tongue to wet her lips. Endearing as always, there’s the way her skin reddens in a creeping flush all the way to her ears. You had learned, over time, that Mizu was not one to vocalize the things she yearned for. She was a woman who preferred action over dialogue, letting her eyes, hands, and body language speak for her. Just by looking in those irises of hers, you can tell what she’s hoping for.

“Ask me.” You sniffle, a wide smile on your face as she’s already rolling her eyes.

“Come inside, first. There’s people out here, okay?” Mizu whispers and shakes her head, though the tears at the corner of her waterline are unmistakable.

She pinches your cheek as a pout forms, clearing her throat of unshed tears. Damn the world around you, she wanted to kiss you until you were sated and panting. Until your knees faltered and quivered, embracing her so you didn’t fall. Mizu makes a move to grab the briefcase you had so unceremoniously dropped earlier, offering up her arm for you to take. She’s grateful to see you latch onto her, cozying yourself up to her side in delight. You were more than welcome to crowd her personal space at this point, her usual qualms against physical touch thrown to the wayside when it came to you. It’s the first time she hides her gaze from you, suddenly feeling sheepish. After all this time being away from you, to finally being able to touch you… it’s overwhelmingly mushy. You look at her with such loving intensity. She needs a breather, needs to let her system cool off before she overheats and explodes right here in this alley. She supposes that was just your effect on her– turning her brain to lovesick soup.

“Everyone’s inside waiting… and probably peeking through the windows, so let’s head in.” Mizu grits her teeth, reminded of the teasing she endured in your absence.

“Okay,” You tell her, leaning your head to rest on her shoulder. “I missed you, you know.”

She’s more than relieved to hear it, any doubts she had washing away with your kind words. “Of course I know.”

You’re the first one to head to the door, holding it open for her as she effortlessly carries in the duffel of cash. Everyone approaches you hospitably, shaking hands with you and giving their thanks for the gold jewelry you’d gifted them. It puts your nerves at ease how cordial they are, seemingly liking you. While Mizu and you would be traveling away from them, you were glad to know you had their approval. Hopefully, if time soothed these wounds, you could write or visit them without worry for any consequences.

A few of them head into the other room, gathering up all the materials needed for the next step of your plan. It gives you a few minutes alone with Mizu, which you welcome.

“Will you ask me now?” You plant your hands at her collarbones, looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You really are infuriating,” Mizu huffs, but her pinkening complexion states otherwise. She lets her knuckles brush your cheek, using her thumb to tilt your chin. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” You mutter.

Mizu takes her time. There’s an eternity beyond this that leaves her craving something chaste with you. Craving the way her lips land on your forehead first. To your cheeks, where her nose nudges at your heated skin. Dotting the tip of your nose as she watches the excitement in your eyes grow, up until your lids close in anticipation. It’s only then does she bring her mouth to yours, her hands landing on your waist. Her kiss is tame, short-lived yet expressing all she had in store for you after you two made your escape. When she pulls away you follow after her, planting one more peck on her lips. Abruptly feeling demure, you take a step back, her hands falling back to her sides.

“Sorry…” You mumble, toying with your fingers to distract yourself.

“Don’t be,” Mizu swipes a thumb over the height of your cheekbone. “It’s… cute of you, really. I’ve never had anyone want to be so romantic with me before.”

“Their loss then, isn’t it?” You say as you bump your shoulder into hers.

You spend the next few hours getting fussed over. In order to make everything go as smoothly as possible, you’d be clothing yourself with a more masculine disguise. Besides, as a noble– or, former noble, at least– you would be more recognizable. Not that you had ever personally left your estate, but you’re sure your fiance has already had the news spread wide and far, guards looking everywhere for you two. With everything in place, you look like the typical man you’d see on the street. Your hair’s been made to appear short, a suit that’s just a little too large draping your frame, and you even have a patch of false facial hair to stick onto your upper lip when you’re ready. Mizu, of course, finds this amusing.

“Honestly,” She’s snickering from behind you. “You don’t look all that bad like this.”

“Is this how you felt when we were on the train together?” You ask, peering into the mirror as you took in your current image.

“Sort of,” Mizu shrugs, her voice lowering to that husky, flirty tone of hers. “Mostly I was thinking about how I must’ve looked more like your husband than Taigen. How I should’ve put you right in my lap and kissed you.”

“You should’ve.” Your eyes dart over to where she stands in the reflection of the room, willing yourself to ignore how her comment ignites a warmth in you.

“Logistically, we still needed him then,” Mizu comes up behind you, nose against the back of your neck as she leaves a kiss there. “Trust me, if we didn’t, we would’ve been the ones getting married at that inn.”

“Oh, would we?” You spin around to face her. “I seem to recall us talking about marriage once, specifically you being someone’s wife, and you very much replied that you’d pass.”

She scoffs at that, bowing her head. “That was… before.”

“Before?” You inquire.

“I can’t pin it down to one exact moment, but before it was you who I was picturing getting married to.” Her voice is small, sensitive. “Though, the moment I realized… it was probably that day I saw you kissing Taigen, out in the woods. That day… I really thought he had you. That you had romantic intentions with him.”

“You’re kind of oblivious then, aren’t you?” You smile, rubbing at her arms to try to comfort her. You could tell the sudden vulnerability took a toll on her. “I told you I thought about marrying you on that night I got you all dressed up, when you kept asking if I was really going to wed my fiance.”

She blinks, her memory jogging itself. This time, it catches the way you had stuttered back then, tripping over your words to say you… you’re asking a lot of questions. “Well, you could’ve been a little clearer.” Mizu coughs, covering the lower half of her face with her hand.

“I could’ve.” You laugh at that, shaking your head. “If I was any clearer, maybe you would’ve spoken up sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Her response is curt, to the point. An emotion swims in her eyes that you can faintly recognize– something resembling regret.

“We were both surviving off instinct, trying to escape lives we didn’t want. I’m not going to hold that against you.” You soothe your hand up and down her back, feeling her sink into your touch.

She nods, though anything more she was going to say is interrupted by her colleagues returning to the room. Time for the real work to begin.

Together, after finally applying every piece of your disguise, it was their job to photograph you and prepare your fake passport. Since you’d be traveling under the cover of being a man, they’d have to adjust the picture inside. You had watched over their handiwork, noting the remarkable precision with which everything was completed. Hopefully it’d be up to par. Or, if you had any luck left, the ticket agent wouldn’t scrutinize it too heavily. You waited by the door, observing Mizu saying her goodbyes. Fiddling with the newly made passport in your hand, you tried to quell your anxieties. Everyone had reassured you how convincing the charade was, that you had nothing to worry about. More than anything you wanted to trust and believe them, but with your lives on the line, it was hard to. Or, it is hard, until Mizu finally turns to you and takes you by the hand. All it takes is one squeeze to quell the anxiety you harbored in your chest, one squeeze for your heart to thump wildly with love rather than fear. That coy smile of hers chips away at your resolve until you finally mirror her expression.

“There,” She says with a sense of satisfaction at seeing the upturn of your lips. “Now we can go.”

Arriving at the station, it’s blindingly bright. The surrounding architecture and decoration is bathed in a formless white, the nothingness of it all creating a nauseous twist in your stomach. Going around are a few men holding pamphlets which you can only assume has your image on it. They stop by multiple women, lifting their headwear and examining their facial features. It almost dizzies you, the agonizingly slow pace of the line you’ve slotted yourself into alongside Mizu. You crowd against her back, trying to find comfort in her closeness. In the way her spine dips, in the way you can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin blouse she dons. It softens what you think is the inevitable blow. That the ticket agent will see through your ruse and you’ll be back to hell in no time, but you had been with her until the end, you suppose.

So when he seamlessly– seamlessly as in Mizu takes care of everything while you freeze in doom behind her– exchanges your two tickets to Vladivostok for two tickets to Shanghai, you’re stunned. While he had checked a few lists, it wasn’t done with any sort of urgency or genuine belief that either of you were the women being searched for. You stand there, locked in place until her fingers curl around your wrist and beckon you to get a move on to board the ferry.

Reaching the deck, the sun has begun its descent, washing you both in a hazy orange. Mizu, wordlessly, takes a step towards you and tries her best to gently peel the fake mustache off your upper lip. She chuckles as she does so, feeling a flicker of heat crawl up your veins. As she pulls off the ring Taigen had given you, it’s a weight lifted. Many weights lifted. It’s a first for you. The idea that if you look over your shoulder, no one will be chasing after you, desperate to lock you away. Safe. Safe, with Mizu’s eyes sparkling like you’ve never seen before and the sun framing her in a halo, you’re safe. All you feel you can do is press a kiss to her lips, hoping everything you wish to tell her is translated in the way you give yourself to her.

The way you urge her below deck, to the room you had been assigned. It’s a beautiful one, decked in grandeur. There’s a few chairs and a larger couch in the room, accompanied by two porthole windows facing the night. That deep blue, sprinkled with a dusting of silvery stars was suddenly no longer a dream. And neither was Mizu. Here, in this private space, you could shed your hat and undo the pins in your hair. It allowed you a moment to breathe, stepping over to the luggage you had packed.

You turn to Mizu, looking at her expectantly. “I… brought something,” You’re muttering, a dash of embarrassment apparent in the way you speak. “For us, I mean.”

She takes the sleek black box you hand her, one adorned in ornate golden flowers and held together by a teal rope, tassel on the end.

“We don’t have to.” You’re quick, nearly stumbling over yourself.

“I haven’t even opened it yet.” Mizu throws an eyebrow up at you. Her movements halt, showing her concern. Her care, for she won’t open it if you really rather her not.

“Well,” You gulp. “You can.”

“Okay. I will.”

And she does.

There’s a tremble in the way she coughs as it opens to reveal two pairs of bells, each one on a length of rope. You can see the way her grip tightens, knuckles paling.

“Like I said, we… we don’t have to,” You’re putting your hands over hers, attempting to close the box. “I just thought, maybe to celebrate…”

Mizu wrenches the box back towards her, your hands falling waywardly to your side. Clearing her throat, she finally tears her gaze away from the bells to look at you.

“We can.” She tells you, pupils blown as you stare into their inky darkness. Inky like letters on a page you once read, pages you’d wished were her.

The unfiltered husk of adoration in her voice wracks through you, your mouth drying in surprise. “You’re sure?” You all but squeak. “Just because I want to doesn’t mean-”

“I want to,” Mizu says plainly. “I was only taken aback for a moment because of how much I want to.”

“Oh, then…” You bounce on your heels, hands clasped together in a nervous energy, unsure of how to move your body or exist in this space with Mizu’s confession.

She gingerly places the open box aside for now, stepping forward. Her chest flush against your own, it causes you to jolt slightly.

“Can I show you?” Mizu asks, and you find yourself fixated on the way her lips move, the way cockiness and desire and love swirl together in the syllables she speaks.

“Show me how the Count would?” Your skittish nature propels forward this joke of yours.

“Funny,” Mizu huffs, exhaling from her nose. “No, I’m going to show you how your wife would.”

There’s a powerful beat of your heart that almost knocks itself out of your chest before she’s arching into you, her mouth descending on you with quickness. To meet at the juncture of your jaw, curling around to your cheek as her palm takes residence on the side of your neck. Holding you in place, her thumb sits below your ear with a firm pressure. There’s a shine in her eyes, a teary glaze over them as you feel this newfound sense of freedom settle over the two of you. It all culminates, crescendos to the extraordinary point of your lips meeting. It’s paradoxically finite, the first yet the last. Singular yet familiar. The bookend of a story never told.

Something entirely yours.

Something that can be met only with the clutching of fabric, a blouse that’d sooner be torn to shreds if you had any lack of self control. Neither of you are a stranger to the machinations of this devotion, but you find yourself quelling the more primal depths of your brain. Beyond this ferry your life laid in wait, and you’re sure– or hopeful, rather– that you’d have more than enough opportunities to indulge yourself. Instead you let your hands roam, memorizing the texture beneath your palms, the silken smoothness of her as Mizu’s tongue parts your lips. It’s a simple motion with a simple response yet it sparks a heat of lightning through you all the same. Courses even stronger when her lithe fingers travel down the expanse of your sternum, languidly unbuttoning your dress shirt. Remorse paints her face as she pulls away from you, a physical pain at even the notion of being apart. Her chest heaves with a shuddering breath, helping you discard your stiff suit jacket to the side. Trailing a finger down your middle, following the path of undone buttons, she gulps. The softness of your skin underneath the rough pad of her fingerprint, a silent wish that those ridges could impart a brand upon you– and the same for her, as she’d welcome any mark of yours on her flesh.

That wish turns out to be fleeting– there are no barriers here, no line she can’t cross without your desire for her to do so– she herself can grant them. So she allows her teeth to sink into the skin bare to her. The column of your throat is granted no mercy, not now when you’re melting from the heat of her mouth. Not now when there’s no longer the lingering threat of someone else finding the flowers of reds and purples and yellows she’ll plant on you. Teeth laying claim on every inch she can muster, licking at the bruises blossoming. She pants against your neck, your hands tight around her biceps to hold yourself steady. Mizu is damn near ravenous, starvation fueling her as she is finally able to satiate herself with something she’s been denied for so long. Blood pumps through her with a thunderous current, radiating through her cheeks so warmly you can feel it.

“You know, right?” Mizu rasps, nose pushing your unbuttoned shirt to the side so she can latch herself to the nape of your neck.

“Know what?” You breathe, a particularly hard bite of hers causing you to mewl.

“That I love you,” She’s sliding a hand upwards, slipping your sleeve down your shoulder to expose even more of you to her. “I love you.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” You nod, heart throbbing. You’re sure she can feel the pound of it as her lips glide along your heated skin. “I love you too.”

“My name, please, say it.” Mizu asks sheepishly.

She tries not to dwell on the pang of selfishness she feels at the request. How long had she spent forsaking certain pleasures to steel herself to a world that has never wanted her? Is it so wrong to let herself whittle that world down, to pinpoint her existence to the way your voice calls for her? The way your voice wraps itself up in honey and coats her bones in the sickeningly sweet urge to live.

“I love you, Mizu.”

There’s a desperateness to the way she shuffles backwards, fully disrobing you of your shirt, torso completely in the nude now. The glow of her cheeks almost implies a drunken state, eyes glossed over and lips shining. It’s not long before she’s back to it, only this time she nuzzles her mouth to the side of your breast. Your wrists are enclosed in her hands now, leaving you still in your place as she works the fat into the grip of her teeth. Moving inward, it’s sudden when she pulls your nipple taut, releasing only when she hears the hitch of your breath and feels the squirm of your thighs. Her breath ghosts along your skin with a chuckle at your reaction, knowing there’s not much you can do other than relent and take whatever she offers you. You more than welcome it though, a distinct restlessness pumping through you.

“Mizu,” You plead, as she’s now turned her attention to the opposite breast. “To the… to the couch over there, at least, please?”

The want drips off your voice in waves, ones that fill Mizu’s lungs and snaps her out of her trance. You’re hauled into her arms, feet off the floor as she carries you with ease. Unceremoniously plopped onto the plush cushions of the loveseat, Mizu now stands tall over you.

Running your hands up and down her thighs over her pants, you peer up at her curiously. “May I undress you?”

Her fingers curl at the base of your skull, thumb caressing back and forth. “Sure, princess.”

You snort at the nickname, rolling your eyes, but the endearment in her voice enchants you. Tucking into the waistband of her pants, you pull them downwards at a teasingly slow pace. You grin, a quirk of irritation present in the furrow of her brow. As they pool at her ankles, you move to work the tie of her blouse undone. Mizu shakes it off, joining the pile of clothes amassing in whatever corner of the room they’ve been tossed to. She’s rid of her underclothes just as quickly, naked before you now. In another swift motion, her hair cascades down the flow of her shoulders and falls along her. It’s her natural state, all the prim and properness of her attire unfastened by your doing. Every tense muscle of hers melts, this way. Shoulders dropping, lids fluttering, chest sinking with a sigh. Melts her into a syrupy puddle taking form in your palms. There is no end to the blessing you feel, not when you’re the one she looks down upon so expectantly. Your hands trace down her lower back, over the swell of her ass and you end up with your thumbs dug into the meat of her thighs. Ghosting your mouth at her hip, you nip at the protruding bone there. She hisses, the slight pain making her wince. But you see her writhe, feel the way her hand comes to rest at your shoulder and she subtly starts to tremble. Secretly, she’s expressive to a degree where she’s easily readable, if you’re trained to see it.

Expressive and sensitive. There’s a high whine of her voice as your tongue swipes along the crease of her thigh, closing the distance between you and where she very much wants you to be. Stopping at her inner thigh, you decide it’s your turn to grace her skin with bruising hues, teeth settling into her. Her breaths sound adjacent to hiccups, like when one can’t get a full inhale before exhaling again. Like all she’s ever done was wait for you, hoping you’d kneel at her altar. You give her your worship in the form of fingernail tracks down the backs of her legs and teeth marks following a circular path. Up one thigh, arcing across the curve of her lower belly, down the next thigh. She was your Mizu, your very own deviously angelic sight to behold. In her eyes swam the prayer she wanted you to recite– and you would.

You use your thumbs to part her lower lips, opening her up to you. You’re in awe of her always, momentarily lost in the glistening of her arousal you’re met with. Bringing your mouth to her, you feel your lids flutter at the first hint of her taste, the first twitch of her thighs. Your nose is nuzzled into the pudge of her mons pubis, the faint curls of hair there. Eagerly, you trace your tongue over her cunt in rolling circles that have her whimpering, zinging through the silence directly to your own heat. Sucking at her clit, you can feel her hips stutter, her fingers reaching to your hair and pulling. You gasp, panting hot breaths against her. Using your hair, she grinds herself into you, your accepting mouth, as you grab at her thighs and hope you get smothered. It’d be a fine way to go, is all you can think. Mizu’s wetness stains the sides of your practically drooling mouth, coating even your chin in a sticky luster. She shallowly bumps her clit across your tongue, as you begin to notice her thighs shaking in your periphery.

“Close…” Mizu whispers down at you, the hold on your hair morphing into more of a gentle grasp. More of a caressing coddle, keeping you flush to her pussy.

You think it’s the way you look up at her that does her in– the flutter of your lashes, the way your tongue is held out for her to just use, the overwhelming gleam of your eyes that just scream please. Arms wrapped around her thighs, you keep her upright as her knees wobble, pitchy breaths in your ear as she rides out the shocks of her orgasm.

You can’t help but laugh into her inner thigh, elation tickling up your throat at how much you love her. How beautiful she is, how lucky you are.

Mizu’s brow furrows again, her trembling beginning to finally cease as she straddles your lap. Those fancy slacks you have on are quickly darkened at the contact.

“What’s so funny?” She’s quite obviously still breathless, but stubbornly she must question you anyway.

“Nothing’s funny, promise.” You lean backwards, causing her body to curve into yours. The way her heart is always searching to be close to your own, some sort of echolocation using the ever in tune beats. Your palm follows her spine, up the bumps of each vertebrae, coming to rest between her shoulder blades.

Mizu, reaching between your smushed together bodies, cants her hips in such a way so that she can finally undo your trousers. Aiding her, you lift up so she can successfully get them off of you, though it’s still a bit of a struggle. It takes a second but she also manages to maneuver you into the position she’d like you in– something that’s clearly never been a challenge to her thanks to her strength. You’re sprawled out, laying on your back and she’s between your legs, sitting on her knees. With one of your legs balanced on her shoulder, she smiles, greeting your ankle with a coy kiss. Like this, she has more than enough room to dip a hand between your thighs. Enough room to roughly press her thumb to your clit, swallowing harshly as she hears that first moan of yours break through. Spurred on by the way your head lolls back, her fingertips find your entrance with ease. You had been nearly soaked through your trousers, not to mention your underclothes, making the first thrusts of her fingers smooth. She curls them within you, prodding at that soft spot that has you cooing in wanton delight.

Mizu wants nothing more than to paint your image into the deepest recesses of her mind, make you a mural on every neuron. She’s relentless with her motions, the back and forth drag of her fingers, sculpting you to the shape of her until that’s all your body could manage to remember. With her free hand, she urges your lips open with her thumb. Of course, she knows by now how intelligent you are, how fiery you can be if really put to the test. There’s still a twinge of pride in her at the way you still so obediently take her thumb into your mouth, already twisting your tongue around it to sufficiently wet it. The way there’s no metal to dull the feeling, the way there never will be. Of everyone she’d seen you reject, of all the times she’d wondered what your true feelings were… those were all dashed away. You loved her, a certainty that no longer chilled her to the bone with dread. Rather, her heart constricts itself into the outline of a thimble, squeezing with a vigor that almost makes her cry. No shame or embarrassment prickling her teary eyes, just the cool relief of knowing.

It has her collapsing into you, mouth meeting yours in a wet fervor as your leg slips down from her shoulder. There’s an insatiable appetite that fuels her, makes her want to know no other sensation than the way you wrap around her fingers, the way you simultaneously crumble against the cushions yet arc up into her touch. Your arms become something much like angel wings to her, how they wrap around her shoulders in a protective shield, restraining her so close to you that whatever heaven lies between you two is nothing more than a mere sliver. Her chest rumbles with a groan as she feels the sting of your nails in her back, feels you start to spasm every time she crooks her fingers, feels the way your breath sputters into little hitched hums.

“I know, I know…” Mizu utters into your hair, vulnerable and wanting.

Hearing the reverence in her voice shatters you, every wire in your body snapping with a broken, choked moan. She continues to work at you regardless, though her pace slows as the crash wears off.

“Mizu!” You huff, giving a half-hearted, feeble attempt to swat at her arm.

“Sorry.” She wets her lips with her tongue, looking down at you with a lopsided grin, one that borders on mischievous as she slips her digits out of you and watches your thighs quiver.

You take a moment to recuperate, eyes closed and neck craned backwards to nestle into the couch. Mizu’s weight on top of you is lifted, and you hear the padding of her steps around the room. What really causes you to perk up though is the abrupt chime of bells, eyes snapping open to see her standing before you again, box in hand.

“You still want to, right?”

“Yes,” You clear your throat, raising yourself to your knees. “If you do?”

Mizu takes the same position, facing you as she kneels. The previous hesitance you harbored starts to dwindle even further as she stamps a chaste kiss to your lips, shaking her head in a nod. You’re sure the two of you are more than prepared, a sense of calm easing over you. Those stories that had once seemed so impure, so terrifying to face no longer existed. This was not an act of imitation or entertainment– this was you tangling one soul to another, willingly giving yourselves to each other without any malice.

Something like giddiness bubbles in Mizu’s chest as she finally holds one pair of bells, face flushing at the simple implication of it. One of her knuckles grazes at your lips, a silent acknowledgement. Open. When you do, she guides the silver charms into your mouth, one at a time. It’s an odd sensation, the weight of them on your tongue unlike anything you’d experienced before. Mizu’s eyes watch, mystified as you suckle, soaking them in a layer of spit. Even more mystified when she drags them out by the rope, moonlight catching on their shimmering appearance. Flame like redness blazes ever brightly as she cups her palm underneath you, the cold surface of the first bell prodding at your entrance. You take deep breaths, parting your thighs a bit more so she can gain some more leverage. In an attempt to ground yourself you crane your neck downward to rest against her shoulder, but Mizu shakes her head at this. Face cradled in her other hand, her thumb caresses at your cheek.

“I…” Mizu breathes, unsure of how to approach her desire. “I want to see you take it.”

You nod, throat constricting and unable to vocalize as you feel yourself take the bell inside you, finally. It’s not necessarily painful, just a slight discomfort at the foreign intrusion. Still, the anticipation excited you. You’re sure you must seem a disheveled mess but you knew it wouldn’t be long before Mizu was one too, which especially lit a spark in you.

“Is that alright?” She whispers to you, a kiss to your cheek as punctuation.

“Uh-huh, yes,” You tell her, one hand twisted in the fabric of the couch and the other clutching onto her. “More, please?”

When you look at her, she’s dazed momentarily, lost in the way the black of your eyes suggests an infinity, suggests time is circular and you two would find yourselves here over and over. She could only hope so.

“Of course, anything you want,” Mizu tells you. “Whatever you ask of me, I’ll answer.”

The other bell, directed by her hand, nudges into you with less difficulty than the last. An unusual fullness, unlike Mizu’s fingers– or your own, for that matter– one that sends you into a bit of a head rush. Woozy, cunt pulsing as you stave off the satisfaction of release until you can pleasure your lover as well. A distinct tremor in your fingers as you reach for the other set of bells, letting them chime as you raise them up. Eyes glued to the pale, barely there pink tint of her lips as they encircle the bells one after the other. It strikes you then, how whittled down and pliable she becomes in your hold. All the clay of her rigid angles, frustration and anger smoothened by the wet kiss of your lips upon her jaw, at the furrow of her brow, the corners of her mouth. Piercing ice, that which chills you deeply, turns into an awe-inducing clear sky. Your rumination of her halts at the sharp, pitchy cry that erupts from her. Mizu embraces the first bell sinking in, eyes squinting closed as she adjusts. Heated hushes leave you as your thumb traces over the ridge of her hip bone, soothing any aches.

“Okay,” Mizu mutters, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “That’s… good.”

“Yeah?” You smile, heart trilling with exhilaration– she liked it.

She nods, eyes darting to where your hand holds the next bell under her. Permission, a plea for you to continue. With a gentleness, you push upwards, watching as her body accepts the bell, stretching around it until it settles inside. Mizu sighs, a placated noise as she drops her forehead to your shoulder, urging you to lay back. There’s a faint ringing as you do so, causing a flush to creep along your chest and up your neck, prickling your skin. She just smiles above you, half in disbelief and half in ardor. Trailing her fingers up your thighs, she spreads your legs in such a way to where she can maneuver her own between them. With a quick glance to your face, she rocks herself down onto you, muffled chimes resonating in your ears.

Their ringing crests as she finds rhythm, the clarity of it sending a pulse through you until it buzzes through your fingertips and your toes. It’s the culmination of all you’ve ever wanted, a melody that strikes a chord you had long thought nonexistent. A yearning that had clawed at your very innards to be known, to be given to, to be loved. She buckles, face above yours, red and panting. Lovesick, too, with a foolish grin. Her sweet laughter mixes, collides with the song you two create, hurling you off the deep end as you join her. Join her in this composition, all those shattered bits of you crooning a harmony until your halves become a whole.

Until the hymn of all your adulation reaches heaven.

In that same dreary library, attending your reading lessons even then, that’s where horror first began its feast with you. It’s where you’d first hear the words ‘bitch’ from your eventual fiance. Where he had first met your skin with bruising metal beads. Your hands, your knuckles. They had stayed painfully red for weeks. He’d tell you to remember it. He’d tie the metal beads to the obi around your waist. Really burn it into your mind for any time after that you wanted to act out. What part of you had fear gulped into its belly then? And what part did it chew on when you were given your own bedroom, away from your dear aunt?

Madam Kaji had told you a tall tale that night. Your new room suffocated in deep shadows, curtains drawn to dim the glow of the moonlight. You remember begging her to light a candle in your room. Desperately, because while you knew you couldn’t ask for two, you might have a chance at one. Just one light to protect you. Any sense of security or safety in this place was scarce– so much so that you weren’t even surprised when the older woman sneered down at you, refusing. That doll you owned– the one you seemingly carried with you everywhere– was the only semblance of warmth you ever felt here. She crouched down, level with your eyesight. Pointing her lantern towards the door, she spoke in a hushed tone, telling you all about the ogre who’d burst into your room if it heard you scream or cry. How it’d smother you until you could no longer manage to make even a whisper of a sound. You thought you heard the now familiar sound of a stomach growling.

Until your aunt came through that very door, spooking both you and Madam Kaji.

She had tsked, shaking her head. “Don’t be scaring little ones like that.”

Her pointed glare towards the elder woman was obvious as she used her own candle to light your lamp, which had eased your fears at least a little. You remember her to have always been that kind. Always looking out for you, in a world where nobody else was. The first person to make you feel like maybe you did belong. That despite whatever horrific paths you’d find yourself on, you weren’t entirely alone. But those heartfelt moments grew to be few and far between through the interference of your eventual fiance. Short lived too, washing down the drain alongside what fragments of faith you had left. That man had doled out cruelty and punishments equally between you and your aunt, snuffing out any sense of joy in your lives.

You had learned a lot from the woman, regardless.

Like when she told you to hold out your hands, dropping a photo of your mother into your outstretched palms. Did you know, decades later, you’d be asking the same question she had?

“And me? Everybody says I don’t compare to my big sister.” She spoke with her head turned, displaying her side profile.

You must’ve spent hours looking at that picture after that. You never knew her, the only testament to her as a person being the stories passed down from your aunt. Tracing a finger down the slope of her nose, then your own. Perhaps you’d never compare, either. Not like it mattered, when every step of your life was decided for you. You wouldn’t have to compare, you would just have to exist. No desires, no grudges. No mind to dwell on the truth of your life. Just pieces of a blank slate hastily kept together by the desperation of the people around you greedily trying to take your wealth.

Despite any punishment, you’d still act out any way you could. You’d giggle and point at the dirty words and pictures in those books you were forced to read during your lessons. When your aunt would point and verbalize the parts of the human body across from your eventual fiance, you were to repeat them. You’d chuckle as she’d point out the lower areas– noticing the displeasure on the man’s face. He’d descend upon you and your aunt quickly, leaving you teary eyed and frowning.

It wasn’t long after that that you found out what a mental hospital was. The threats to send you away to one of them were frequent, becoming a little more real each time you acted out. You had been told that this sort of hysteria was typical in the women of your family– he had side-eyed your aunt at that particular comment– and that it’d do you good to get your lunacy treated. That they’d bury you into the depths of cold soil. Cover it up until you ‘improved’, after which you’d become a fucking dog to them. Leashed. Detailing the frightening ways these hospitals would treat their patients, it made your aunt start running. She had made a desperate attempt to get out of the library before that lever was pulled and the gate had shut in her face, much like it did to Mizu when she first tried to get in.

You wished you were brave enough to try.

You watched your aunt slowly grow sicker. Older now, and able to reminisce, you now knew the cause of that sickness. Those fucking readings he’d make her do during his bidding sessions. To an audience of men, delighting in a well put together woman voicing off lewd words. When he’d make her read the story of women getting defiled, smoking men gathered on the steps to view her. They’d have their own cushions and tables, treated with the highest regard to further his own influence among these sadistic individuals. At the end of it all one man would go home with the crass material, and your fiance would be even richer. You’d watch with a heavy heart from the doorway of the library as she finished up, dabbing at her cheeks with a folded handkerchief. That smile she gave to you– deeper with pity and sympathy than you could describe at the time.

When she’s found dead the next day, you think she took with you the last scrap of hope you had left. Her body swayed from the branch of that cherry tree outside your window. A servant had swiftly carried you away, trying to tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene.

You visited that tree often. Thinking of your aunt protecting you, as best she could, from the harsh realities of the world you lived in. Something about you swears those flowers bloomed even more beautifully– their hue a vibrant pink, fragrant and sweet. Your aunt’s soul in a rush of floral glory. Arms above your head, you’d let yourself feel the breeze and swing just like she did.

What acts of defiance did you have left in you?

Exhaustion buckled you into silent submission.

The estate grew with you, over time. Adulthood made little change in you, but the manor morphed beyond itself. Renovations to the library changed its appearance, now seeming more opulent. Pools of clear water embedded in the tatami floor, bonsai trees, and sections of pure white sand adorned with rocks adding a scenic flair to the room. Despite all the change, you were still just as terrified of the library as you used to be. The death of your aunt was nothing to your now fiance– the ‘proposal’, if you could call it that, happened shortly after– his only concern was those books of his. Eventually, he had replaced your aunt with… you.

In your heart, you know that your aunt’s most profound regret was that she could not save you from him.

Candlelight lit the room, your hushed voice rolling through like a fog. Crude details of sex falling on perverted ears. Bondage, whips. The faces of your listeners staring into you, hanging onto every syllable you speak. Their legs begin to tremble the more you delve into the story, the peak imminent. A new man you’ve never seen before sits proudly. Not as jittery or obvious as the others, though his eyes are just as intense.

The Count. You know him now. His ulterior motives, too. In your memories, that’s apparent in hindsight. The intense look in his eye is not that of perversion, but rather, trickery.

Your performance continued that night. Men had begun to fan themselves, fidgeting. With the last word having been read, you watched your fiance stand, describing the origins of the book and how he’d gotten his hands on it. Aristocratic nonsense that’d bore you to death. The Count had chimed in to the conversation, striking a nerve within your fiance as you see him light up at whatever he said. Mentioning an author by name, you assume. The book is flipped around to the audience to show the one problem.

An illustration, torn from its place. Only the hint of it remains in the ripped edge still holding onto its bindings.

“Before the bidding starts,” His hand waves over to you, gesturing for everyone to gaze your way. “We’ll have a demonstration.”

You’d be disrobed of the extravagant kimono you had on to reveal a lighter one underneath. With the pulling of a few levers, a wooden mannequin with maneuverable limbs would be lowered from the ceiling, coming to rest in front of you. Removing the pins from your hair as you let it down, you’d have to straddle the puppet’s legs, your own obi wrapped around its waist. You’d be bound to it, this way. An unfortunately visceral feeling of eyes crawling on whatever inch of skin they could see made your mouth dry, you remember. Your fiance would set up all the ropes on the model, it eventually coming to be hoisted in the air, you still secured in its lap. Below you, you could faintly make out the image of the many men leaning forward in their seats, as if to study your form. Leaning backwards to imitate the position you’d read out earlier, you could feel your stomach begin to turn. Your mind had grown fuzzy after that, barely perceiving the suggestive speech going on about you.

Your next clear memory of that night was of you sneaking your way through the manor. Many shortcuts were riddled throughout the strange architecture. Above the library was a particular wall. From your side, you were able to slide it aside and peer into the room below. Convenient, when you wanted to catch your fiance’s wrongdoings. Sat at one of the tables was The Count, carefully replicating an illustration from a book. A forgery. Yet their discussion landed at the one topic you expected; women, and particularly which women The Count figured he could successfully lay with during his time at the manor.

He clicked his tongue. “There is… only one who would refuse me here.”

“Madam Kaji?” Your fiance raised a brow at that.

“Your former wife who you still share a bed with?” The Count scoffed. “She’d come to my door in an instant if I showed her the right attention.”

“Then who?”

“The lady…” At his words, you peered through the slots in the wall as best you could. Anticipating his next sentence with great anxiety. “She didn’t look away when she saw me. Even if I were to meet her tonight… I couldn’t. Her body is cold, and her eyes… they have nothing. I’m certain her soul is dead inside. Go easy on her.”

You had gulped at that, slumping back a bit as the two began smoking together. At that time, your fiance had just laughed at the implications of The Count’s statement.

You found out soon after that that The Count had offered himself up to give you painting lessons; something he claimed was expected of all the ladies he met in England, where he had studied. Your fiance had insisted on the two of you sharing a meal with him. A gesture of kindness he bestowed only to those like-minded to him. You were never very lucky in receiving any sort of grace from him. When he was ushered away by a servant to take care of some important matter, The Count leaned on his elbows towards you.

“He will only be gone for a little while,” He said, eyes fixed on you despite their brief glance to where your fiance had run off to. “There’s something I’ve come to discuss with you about your future. You’ll see me waiting by the stone lamp at nightfall.”

For some reason, you had decided just this once to see. Your life had been vapid and essentially pointless after your aunt had passed– your handmaidens were not kind to you, Madam Kaji was too busy to entirely get along with you, and your fiance… well, you didn’t want him to like you to begin with. It didn’t surprise you that, after going so long without it, the tiniest glimmer of hope made your chest feel like it was bursting as you waited for midnight to come. You had sent your handmaiden away, off to some other wing of the estate so she wouldn’t be privy to whatever The Count wanted to tell you. After you heard her footsteps depart, you took a peek past the curtain of your window.

And there he stood, cigarette lit in his hands gazing back up at you. Eventually he had sauntered off out of your eyesight, but you could guess where he was going. Only minutes later was there a knock at your door.

“I’m not looking forward to having rumors spread about the two of us,” You spoke through the door, guarded. Your doll sat comfortably in your arms. “What do you want?”

“Look, it was really hard getting here,” He sneered. “I don’t need any of your princess sass. I’m the son of a farmhand, and I’ve spent a long time trying to get the skills to meet you. Bookmaking, forgeries. I came here to attract you, get rid of you, and take your money, but…”

He briefly trailed off, leaving you to wonder why. He cleared his throat after some contemplation, continuing.

“I don’t think I’m the type who would be able to seduce you, to put it in plain terms.”

You had snorted at that, opening the door. “You’d be right.”

The man had then allowed himself into your room. “So, I’ve thought of a new deal. In exchange for about,” He makes a motion with his hand to imply he’s thinking. “Half of your fortune, it can be a rescue operation. We get married, I take you far away, we split the money.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“So you rather marry that old pervert and stay here than even try?” He asked.

“I’m not going to marry anyone.” You seethed, backing away from him as you let your words sink in.

“And what of your wealth if you simply die like that? It’ll all go to him and he’ll just repeat the process from the beginning.” While he makes a good point, you can’t shake the years of trained fear of your fiance.

“He’ll… he’ll follow us,” You’ve started to quiver, securing your arms tighter around your doll. “The basement. He’ll put us in the basement.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, eyes becoming distant. “After my aunt passed, I read in a book that there are certain things that happen to the body after being hanged. However, when I saw her body… none of the signs were there. When I asked my fiance about it, he asked if I wanted to go somewhere nice. He pulled up some of the tatami mats from the floor, leading me down a staircase.”

Even now, you could never forget the chill that seeped through your sock clad feet descending those stairs. How his words sunk in, that what had happened to your aunt was a consequence. A punishment for an attempted escape. The purpose of this room became more than clear to you; the variety of strange tools and objects. A lot of things that your mind couldn’t parse at the time. Your head throbbed at the lack of light, the underground room feeling like it was closing in on you.

A shiver courses through you. “I will never go back there again.”

The Count nods after hearing you recount your experience, exhaling noisily and rubbing his chin. “This,” He held up a small vial of an unknown liquid. “Is opium. If he ever gets a hold of you again, you can drink all of it and be dead within minutes.”

In your panic addled state, you grabbed for it eagerly. Before you could get a hold of it, he had swiped it out of reach.

“Not yet. It’ll be a wedding gift,” He huffs, shaking his head. “Quite a grim one, at that…”

Your annoyance was clear as you rolled your eyes, willing the prick of tears to go away. In that moment you knew you had to try. If your aunt could not save you, then you would save yourself.

“Then…” You wandered over to the windowsill, taking a seat on it. “Bring someone to be my handmaiden. We can send her to a madhouse under my name. I want… I want my name to be buried there. ‘I’ won’t exist after that.”

He agreed. Especially considering the plan to get rid of your current handmaiden would be to bed her. The repercussion of which would be Madam Kaji kicking her out, of course. With her commitment to routine and keeping everything in order, it’d be the very next day that your new handmaiden arrived.

Mizu.

Unbeknownst to most people– maybe your aunt or fiance had known, you weren’t sure– that spot on your door was a peephole, facing outwards into the handmaiden’s quarters. You watched Mizu fumble with her luggage, placing it away and out of sight. In a move that shocks you, she hesitantly slid the screen to your room over, peering inside. When you looked back, you saw how the lump of your blankets on the bed slightly resembles your figure. As if you were laying there, unaware of Mizu’s presence. Gently, you thud your doll against your door, spooking Mizu into shutting the door and scrambling into bed.

“Fuck.” You heard her whisper.

Your grin widens.

Mizu is exactly what you had asked for from Taigen; a foolish girl who wouldn’t know any better. But… isn’t that exactly what she thought of you, too? You knew it, by the way she looked at you with those sad eyes when you had screamed for your mother, faking a nightmare. A bit of a dirty trick to play on her first night, you admit. Even so, that didn’t stop you from being amused at the charade of it all. Taigen had suggested that you show off all your fancy belongings to her– every finely made kimono, the glamorous jewelry. Her awkwardness was more than obvious. The fact that she had never come face to face with such expansive amounts of wealth was clear every time her blue eyes widened or lit up at the various items you showed her. She… was endearing, actually.

So much so that when you found out about the other servants stealing her shoe, it genuinely enraged you. Something you hadn’t felt for a long time. Most of your emotions had boiled down to dull nothingness after years of complacency. You found little value in feeling anger, much less expressing it. With your servants lined up in front of you, you’re sure they too could sense the unease in the air. Arms crossed tightly, you stared them down.

“Which one of you took her shoe?”

At the far end, one of the servant girls is quick to bow on the ground, tears in her eyes. She must’ve known it was better for her to concede, confessing her guilt rather than letting the information reach Madam Kaji. You nodded, feeling at least a little relief she had done so.

“If she ever runs because of something any of you do to her, I will personally throw you out myself,” You sigh. “Fuck.”

You had some inkling of an idea back then, that your feelings for her were already… complicated. Those moments you had felt her eyes on you– piercing, with heavy lids, just watching you– you couldn’t suppress the thrill you felt. Taigen had told you a little bit about her. How she had grown up poor and mostly went back and forth between either the woman who took her in or that elderly man she trained under for some time. You knew her to be strong, capable. Though, she was a bit like you, wasn’t she? Not very well acquainted with the art of social skills. She certainly didn’t know much about the way of nobles like you, so her suspecting you as being just as conniving as her was unlikely. You had never felt close to someone like this, at least not someone your own age. Other handmaidens would often cower before you, not because you had specifically done anything to them, but because of Madam Kaji’s strict standards. Mizu, though? She filled your time with genuine conversation and laughter. Maybe not the most smiles because she wasn’t exactly one to outwardly express herself, but that slight upturn of the edge of her lips– you could’ve kissed her the first time you saw it. Her entire face deserved the downpour of kisses you wished to give it. Forehead, eyebrows, the lids covering her striking eyes that didn’t scare you, cheeks, the tip of her nose often reddened by the cold rainy weather, lips, chin. You truly did think of her, late at night when your back would hit the cushioned softness of your mattress.

That bath didn’t help either. Absent-mindedly, you find your tongue running over the tooth she had smoothed down. Hoping to quell how much you missed her with whatever faint trace of metal that thimble had left behind. Hoping that, if your taste buds found that metallic tang, it could calm the way your heart pounded.

It came to be a fond memory of yours– how she had so gingerly taken your face in her hands. The pads of her fingers were calloused, rough on your own skin. You desperately wished there had been no thimble barring you from feeling her thumb trace across your teeth, your tongue. If she had asked you, you would’ve gladly closed your lips around her. Hers was a painless authority– your obedience to her was not beaten into you. You supposed… you just liked her. That notion of you being hers, and her being yours? A thread of a thought that you could barely unravel before you watch her eyes trail down your body. With how bright they are, it’s impossible to not notice the way her pupils dilate, especially when you see her throat bob as her eyesight aligns with your breasts. You had seen many, many men with wandering eyes. Impolite, sleazy gazes that made you squirm in discomfort. You wonder if her staring was a result of arousal, too? Mizu was unlike them, though. While her thoughts may have been impure, her hands stayed only where you asked them to. Never seeking out more than you wished to give. However, you craved for her to keep looking. There was almost a pained whimper from you as she peeled away, removing her thumb from your mouth. How easy would it be to grasp her wrist, drag her hand down your body until she was rolling her fingers over your most sensitive parts?

“Go ahead and finish washing.” You notice the way her voice had lowered, gotten huskier.

She sits with her back to the tub, arms crossing tensely. Behind her, you could make out the visible red tint speckled across the tops of her ears. To you, the silence is comfortable, but you’re sure that it’s agony to Mizu. Smiling, you hoist yourself to your knees, taking two movements to situate yourself behind her.

“Mizu?” Your voice is breathy, right next to her ear, that gets even redder.

“What?” She snaps at you a bit, but you pay it no mind.

“Do you want to come in, too?” If you didn’t feel it would push the limits, you would’ve planted a kiss right behind her ear.

Another on her neck below it. She’s frozen, not answering you while she’s deep in thought. Probably weighing her odds– would this be something you’d go running to Madam Kaji about if she said yes? You knew you wouldn’t, but you’re not sure how to assuage those doubts in her. Mizu turns to you, a smirk on her face that sends an arrow through your heart.

She leans in close, barely space between you two at this point. “Maybe next time, princess.”

The likelihood of you falling in love with her increased tenfold after that. Even as Taigen had told you to occupy all her time, to ensure that she thinks you’re falling in love with him at a snail’s pace. As if you’d fall in love with him at all, you wanted to scoff.

You couldn’t. You were on a nosedive, falling hard for the girl he had sent to be your servant. The one you were supposed to send away. Her presence now burnt into every joyous moment you could think of. Dinner, where Taigen had called you breathtakingly beautiful. A brief flash in your mind compared to how Mizu’s body had engulfed the rest of your memory. Dressing her, giving her those earrings to wear, having her look like a noble lady in front of you. Removing every garment one by one, too. Despite the glove in between, letting your hand follow the dips of her shoulder blades. Laughing with her after your painting lessons, or on that walk where she had cradled you so kindly. Having been deprived of true affection and feeling her palms against your cheeks as she talked you out of those bleak thoughts.

It was companionship.

When you thought of how this scheme was going, the way Mizu would never be yours if it came to fruition– you could barely fathom it. Finally, here is what you think you were made for. A woman who you would do anything to call your own, but with her came that cruel twist of fate that this would be it for you two. How hellish that you’d have to put up with Taigen’s grabby hands and crude remarks for the entirety of it, too?

That day it had rained, with the two of you back at the estate waiting for Mizu to return was one such occurrence. You had slapped his hand away from your arm, eyes going wide with annoyance.

“Ugh, you men are so simple.” You mumble.

“What?” Taigen snorts. “I’m just playing around. Your fiance’s making you read too many of those books, hm? I’m not after your body, only your money.”

He had pinched your cheek, your arm, and then your ass, which you fiercely swat away.

Mizu had gone stomping around the manor, you being unaware that she had seen Taigen so boldly touching you. You had seen her in the night, sitting straight up and sighing. Her anger was so freely expressed in those eyes of hers. When she looked Taigen’s way, her hatred of him was unmistakable.

At this point, yours probably was too.

Sitting on that rock in the forest, nearly in his lap, you had told him as much. He had insisted the two of you had to make the proposal believable. Mizu would have to see the two of you tangled together in order to truly think you had accepted. You had reluctantly agreed, though the nausea in your belly wasn’t soothed at all. He had made a comment to pretend he was that wooden mannequin, and he’d pretend you were another woman as well.

You didn’t want him to be the mannequin.

You wanted him to be Mizu.

Balanced in her lap, letting her cup your thighs in her hands. Fingers tracing upwards, creating a path of flames that licked deep into your bones. Her mouth on yours, frantic and frenzied with desire, the absolute need to be close to each other. You needed to be close to her because you loved her. In all your convoluted years of living, for once, laying with her, you had felt that first twinge of simultaneous fulfillment and heartbreak. Your heart, beating once, fed itself full on the fantasy of being together with Mizu. Beating once more, it collapsed when you heard her distressed cry for you, rooted to her spot in the forest as she saw you kissing Taigen.

With all the pain in her voice, the slight watery quality to her eyes, you could’ve never guessed that she too, was shattering.

A cool breeze wafted through the library, chilling your skin. You cleared your throat, watching all the men in attendance for tonight’s bidding settle into their spots. Taigen, of course, is there too. The story laid out in front of you made you pause, knowing its contents by the title alone after having practiced it for so long.

Depicted in the erotic tale was a relationship between two women. Describing how one of them was given a small box– four small silver bells contained within. A gift for her and her lover. As you read aloud, you notice the room growing dimmer. Regardless of the candlelight fading, you were able to continue. The two women would take two bells inside of them. Legs parted and meeting each other in the middle, the melodic notes would ring as they moved against each other. Tongue wetting your dry lips, you try to keep your focus on your speech. The illustration portrayed in the book below has you nearly tripping over your words, a momentary glimpse of it recalling Mizu to mind. To feel her, no bothersome fabric blocking you from her bare skin. To willingly allow yourself that vulnerability with her. Feeling her weight, her heat, the bumps of scars littered across her skin that you wanted to kiss, wanting to take away every ill thought she may have ever had. Feel the roughness of her hands finding every part of you with curiosity and desire, no trace of malice or greed.

Abruptly, applause rang out in the darkened room. You had barely even noticed that you finished reading.

Even dabbing at your heated skin with that folded handkerchief, you couldn’t shake those thoughts of Mizu away.

Your nerves had gone cold once darkness fully encompassed the estate. Were you even sure of how you got here? Mizu, hovering over you, eyes set on the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“If he sees you like this…” She’s mumbling, so rapidly you can barely make out what she said.

In seconds, she’s descended onto you, her tongue circling around your nipple. You can feel the way her hand slides to your side, nails dipping into your tender skin. A futile attempt for her to cling onto what little restraint she has left. You know she probably thinks of you as something dainty, easily broken if treated haphazardly. Bite. You wanted to tell her. Mark you so even when the two of you were no longer, you could trail over the scarred teeth marks. Bruise. Let you see the way her love erupts across you, let her pour every ounce of unabashed need into them. Rather, her lips close around you in a languid suck, dragging an open-mouthed gasp from your throat. On impulse, your fingers card their way through her hair, pulling while you try to hold onto the last shreds of your stability. You can feel her chest rumble against your abdomen right before she’s planting wet kisses against you. She travels up your body, following the natural contours of your shape until she reaches your chin. Pulling back, she looks down at you. Her eyes, somehow even brighter than the moonlight, cause your lips to part. Mizu’s beautiful. You could see her like this every night. Every hour, and still not tire of it.

Tears dot along your lower lids, partially out of pleasure as she teases her fingers around your nipple, but also out of an indescribable anguish. Mizu was not an easy woman to read. With you two playing the roles of blushing virgin and warm mentor, did this mean anything to her? Was it only because you asked her to show you how The Count would touch you, a thinly veiled attempt to seduce her? She handled you with such a sweet touch,it was hard to think that maybe it was nothing special to her.

“Will he be this gentle, too?” You asked, noticing the rasp in your own voice.

“How could he not?” Her lips are so close, tickling your jaw right below your ear. “He’ll do this, too…”

You’re lost in a heady daze of lust as you feel her fingers creep along your calf to reach the hem of your clothing. You’d let her tear it apart if it meant her touching you even a second sooner. She pauses, not moving further until you hurriedly nod, burying your face in her shoulder. The fabric of your robe slips off you with her movements, bunching up under you. As her fingers dive deep below, gliding circles over your clit, you breathe out a wanton laugh. Finally. Mizu was here, touching you, it was meant to be like this. Clutching at her arms, pulling down the straps of her underclothes to rid her of them, you think you could die. What a precious woman to have above you, clawing lines into your sides that’ll unfortunately inevitably fade. Your fingers follow their path, wanting to imprint them upon your consciousness forever.

“Keep showing me,” You can barely speak, muttering. “Do it like The Count would.”

Briefly pausing the journey of her tongue down the dips of your thighs, she nods against you, huffing out a near mindless ‘uh-huh’. Traveling upwards from the inner crease of your knee, she licks a stripe up your thighs, her hot panting warming the cool trails of saliva.

“The Count will tell you that you’re soft, warm, and…” She’s grabbing your legs, putting your feet flat on the mattress with your knees raised and spread. Her head knocks against you as she leans, eyelids fluttering when she gazes at your center. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

You’ve raised yourself up to your elbows at this point. Her hair tie had come loose, dark locks flowing down past her shoulders. With the moonlight bathing her in a halo, you wanted to tell her. Tell her she’s an angel. Beg for her to not leave you, as pathetic as it’d make you look. Anything to make it so that just the two of you could exist together, you didn’t care where. You’d put up with every disgusting pervert in the world if it meant she stayed by you. If, at the end of the night, you could have her slip into your bed– whether your bodies met in a flurry of excitement or not, you wanted her there.

Her hesitance, though, was noticeable. While you enjoyed the stroke of her palms against your thighs, you worried if she had any intention to do this– to want this. You swipe a thumb over her cheekbone, startling her as her irises dart to you. There’s an emotion you couldn’t quite discern in them. In hindsight, you recognize it as the same way you’ve looked at her all this time.

Lovesickness.

Petting at her hair, you smile down at her. “Would The Count be staring like this, too?”

“Sorry,” The breath of her laugh washes over you. “He would.”

With her apprehension seemingly gone, she presses a chaste kiss to your clit– so charming of her it makes you whine. Her eagerness is shoddily hidden behind her subtle actions, tongue rolling over you in leisure strokes. But her hands, gripping onto the outside of your thighs to hold you down, are shaking. It’s less like she’s keeping you steady and instead trying to maintain her own sanity. The tentative lapping had soon turned more confident, Mizu becoming more assured each time you moaned or gasped. Greedily trying to push your hips up, you feel Mizu’s palms flatten over you, exerting enough force to keep your lower body grounded to the mattress. Still, in at least some way to satisfy you, she speeds the movements of her tongue, the rhythmic patterns it traces over your clit. Her eyes flutter open to peer up at you. You can practically feel her smile into your cunt as you uselessly try to halt the wobble of your thighs. Your head buzzes with the way her noisy slurping echoes in your ears, the way you feel like your very fucking existence is driven down to this singular point of your arousal, the way the tip of her tongue dips shallowly into you. She hardly ever pauses, the rumbling of her groans and heavy breaths shooting pleasure up your spine.

“Miss,” Reluctantly, she had pulled herself off of you, head still between your thighs and mouth stained with your translucent arousal. “Should I keep showing you?”

You whimper, sitting up and wrapping your arms around her waist. You gulped in doubt, wondering how to word your next thoughts.

“Mizu… I want to,” Your eyes dart down to where she’s shed her underclothes, completely bare before you. “Can I?”

You were hopelessly, unequivocally in need of it. A hunger you needed to sate, to please the most beautiful girl you’ve ever known. Taigen had claimed you a peach. You knew better, though. It was Mizu who was worth adoring– soft in the same way the fuzz of a peach is. More than anything, you wanted to partake in every part of her she’d give you. Scrape your teeth, bite and embrace her down to her innermost pits, until the heat of your humiliating starvation could finally cool. You had always been the one devoured, be it by greed or perversion– just once, you wanted to be the ravenous one.

You’ve noticed now that she blushes very easily, up her neck all the way to the tips of her ears becomes bathed in a red flush. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of her lips, finding that you taste a bit of your own wetness.

“Okay,” She nods, chest falling with a heavy exhale. “Like this.”

Mizu effortlessly moves you in her arms, positioning you both so that you’re on your sides. She’s got you between her thighs and her between yours. Part of you wanted to scold her and tell her you just wanted to fuss over her. Mizu’s seemingly content though, a soft sigh escaping past the lewd noises of her tongue. If the scene weren’t so erotic you’d have laughed, told her how cute she is. You’re not sure if she would’ve listened, having always averted her attention away from any compliments you tried to give her, but she really was.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you take her thighs in your hands and part them, making space for yourself. Your breath caught in your throat, immediately latching your mouth to her clit.

She’s loud.

Practically wailing at the first suck, the way you messily circle your tongue over her, over and over. Her voice reaches a pitch you’ve never heard from her. It fuels you, fuels the way you lay the flat of your tongue against her. A wordless plea, begging to hear even more of her moans. You quickly become addicted to her– her sounds, her taste, the feel of her cunt as she tries to ride her hips into your face. You collect every pearl of slick from her onto your tongue so you can eagerly drink its sweetness, pangs of heat throbbing within you with every drop you savor. Mizu keens into you, rutting more and more the longer you lap away at her.

You think you could for the rest of your life, sustain yourself only on the wetness that drips from her.

More. The word repeats itself in your mind as you’re shifting away from her, pulling her up and into your lap. Knees firmly planted by your sides and pelvis raised, you sneak your hand below her. Cupping her arousal in your palm and thumbing at her clit, you smile up at her. Her moans are these sharp intakes of air, lustful gasps that leave your thighs hopelessly squeezing together. Eye-level with her breasts, it’s an urge you can’t resist– taking her peaked nipple between your teeth and biting. She lets out a stuttered laugh, an angelic sound that you hope the beat of your heart replicates forever, holding you by the back of your head and snuggling you closer to her. You let your middle finger swirl against her entrance, half-lidded eyes staring up at her from where you’re still pressing kisses to her chest. Mizu swallows, teeth digging into her lower lip as she nods. Laving your tongue over her, you sink your digit inside her. She writhes a little at the intrusion, welcoming the stretch regardless. She’s more than wet enough to take it, you muse. Pushing in and out, you relish in the way her warmth clenches around you, the way her body wants you, tries to suck you back in as if you’re a vital missing piece. Biting into the soft side of her breast, you tease your ring finger alongside the other. When you feel her walls adjust to both, you fasten your pace.

“Mizu,” You’re mumbling into the valley of her chest, chaste kisses left behind in the wake of your words. “Do you like this?”

That blush of hers is dappled across her skin again, collarbones, neck, cheeks and ears dusted with a brilliant ruddy hue. Her lips shut into a tight line, hiding a warbled and muffled moan, a pitiful ‘yes’ slipping out.

“Do you like me?” You’re grinning, though you’re aware of the way your eyes must look glazed over, a collection of tears on your waterline.

Energetically nodding, she lets her hands wander up your arms, steadying on your shoulders as her hips move on their own accord in tandem with your fingers, before continuing on to take hold of your cheeks. Like she’s ready to take care of you before you even ask her to, before anything is visibly wrong, she just knows.

“Promise, then,” You’re crying now, tears having fallen down the slope of your face, hiccuping an almost grief-stricken sob. “Promise you won’t betray me.”

Mizu’s lips part, brows furrowing as she shakes her head. “Never, I never will.”

Her words tumble off into gasping, pitchy moans. Your chin on her sternum as you look up at her, your tears finally slowing. You had heard what you had wanted all this time– she promised. Her utterance of devotion, a rush of cool water over every piece of fiery anguish within you. You loved her. You loved her, and the knowledge that you do finally makes your world quiet. No nagging, lingering fear. No ogre waiting in the shadows to smother you. No unnecessary pains doled out upon your innocence. For a moment, one that would be all too short even if it lasted for eternity, the two of you are the only people that exist. No fiance, no Taigen.

Mizu, and just Mizu.

She places her hands on your shoulders, pushing you backwards so you hit the mattress with a thud. After some shuffling around, you’re able to take hold of her hand, using it to grind your pussy against hers. Mizu’s mouth drops open, eyes wide as she imitates your motions. The two of you are perfectly slotted together. Every feverish, wet pass of your clit over hers has you nearly collapsing. Your breaths mingle together, slipping out as heated sighs.

“How,” Mizu swallows thickly, trying to catch her breath. “How do you know these things?”

You just smile at her, shaking your head. Gripping her hand a little tighter, you’re able to thrust against her faster. You’re only vaguely aware of the way your inner thighs become coated in the mixture of your arousals, feeling like you’re coming apart at the seams. Mizu’s moans pick up in pace, hitching every so often when the two of you connect in a pleasurable jolt. Her other hand is clutching, nearly clawing at you, wanting so badly to break skin and leave marks on you. With her mouth falling open wide, eyes trained on you, Mizu tumbles over her peak, the quivering of her thighs noticeable against your own. Her groaning doesn’t stop, an arm flung over her eyes as you can make out the hint of tear tracks by the corners of her mouth, the redness of her cheeks hidden. Hearing her, her loud cries of pleasure as you keep going send you over the edge, a few more slick joinings of your cunts together, and you’re there with her, the current of your arousal running through your body. Finally stilling, you can hear the breathy, lighthearted chuckles of Mizu once you fall backwards, arms spread out on the mattress under you. Mizu crawls the best she can, kissing up your navel to your lips, settling beside you. Her hair’s mussed, the dark tresses flowing behind her, eyes shining and face stippled in pink blush.

What a precious woman to have by you.

That memory was one you came to ruminate on often– especially the day after that, where Taigen had put his hands on you during that painting lesson, bribing Mizu out of the room with a coin. Or at least, attempted to. Her unwillingness to leave had undoubtedly pissed Taigen off tremendously, him storming out down that rocky dirty path. Mizu followed shortly after, as did you, having secretly trailed behind both of them. You had listened in on their conversation, hiding a laugh when Mizu had stomped away after defending you.

Taigen had stood there dumbfounded, looking at you past the branches of trees you lurked behind.

“Can you at try a little fucking harder to pretend you want this marriage before she runs off?” He hisses.

Exhaling, you look out in the distance where Mizu had walked away. “I... can't. I want to quit,” You swallow, hugging yourself close. “I hate everyone here. My fiance, my mother, you...”

Taigen snorts at that, raising a brow. “And Mizu? You feel sorry for her?”

You nod. “I... can't stand her.”

He shakes his head, lighting a cigarette and taking a few drags of it. “Would you care to know some of the things she's said about you? That you're too sheltered. Even if I were to touch you intimately, you'd be completely oblivious to what a man like me wanted. She's only been nice to you out of pity, start being realistic.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you dwelled on his words for much longer than you wanted to. It's an inescapable cycle of blame you go through. It's your fault for not knowing better, then it's Mizu's fault for being so kind to you, and then it's Taigen's for starting this all in the first place; repeat until you're suffocating.

That must be why it's difficult to avoid crying when Mizu insists, yes, you will love Taigen. Resting on that lounge chair, her massaging at your weary calf muscles. When you're ripped from placid waters, thrown right into stifling flames to burn alive, it hurts, you realize. It's the best comparison you can make when Mizu all but tosses you to Taigen's waiting maw, solidifying what he had said to you. Pity. No matter how much you try to assure her that you could be happy here, happy with her, more so than you ever could be with The Count or your fiance, she doesn't budge.

“What if I said I loved someone else?” You asked, feeling the slow rising of warmth up your frame. “I don't have anyone else on this earth... would you really still tell me to marry him?”

Repeating her own words back to her, you hoped she would notice. Take the hint, absolve herself of all this, and be with you. Fix everything, prove she wasn't like everyone else in your life. You want her to be different. You need her to be different. How could she have done all this if she wasn't? Even now as you looked down upon her in anger you could feel the stains of her lips everywhere she had kissed you, could feel the brush of her knuckles across your cheekbone, the way her hands had made your body so pliant. You couldn't comprehend it. How could all of that be worth so little to her that she'd be willing to give it up for a chunk of money? Was that look in her eyes just a trick of the light, your mind's imagination?

Blinking back tears, you watch as she sighs, taking your leg into her hands once more, timidly trying to settle your frustration. “You will love him.” Mizu's looking up at you, the twinge of optimism in her eyes making you sick to your stomach.

She really believes what she's saying. She's doused you in kerosene, her insistence the final motion that sets your body alight. You would've given up this whole fucking charade if she had just kept her promise. You would've done anything to get rid of Taigen, even if it meant staying in this house, just to assure the two of you could be together. But if she doesn't even want it, then what's the point? If she doesn't even want you, then…

“Get out,” You don't even recognize your own voice, faltering with shuddering sobs as you take her by her arms to pull her up to a standing position. “Get out.”

“Wait, miss!” She calls out, but you barely register it before you're dropping her down onto her bedroll, retreating back into your room with the door slammed behind you.

Maybe Madam Kaji was right about ogres waiting to smother you. This world in which you had no one, this world which had been patiently waiting to swallow you whole, will finally get its rightful meal.

You shouldn't have been born.

Silence drenches the night, goosebumps over your skin as the breeze rustles at your clothes, your hair. You're shivering, staring up at that haunted cherry blossom tree. Tears continuously rolled down your cheeks. Fingers trailing down rough bark, wondering if it's worth it to try to ground yourself. Your fury had not been quelled, not in the slightest. In your mind, you could see Mizu's eyes, the way they were practically begging you to fall in love with Taigen. How could you tell her that it's not just that you didn't love him, but you couldn't? How could you have stupidly believed her, that she'd never betray you? Swallowing a laugh, you look down with teary eyes at the box in your hands containing a length of rope.

You shouldn't have been born. Poor, unwanted thing that you are.

Distant thuds reach your ears, harsh and quick breaths– the sound of someone nearly hyperventilating– flooding your senses. Before you can even turn around, you're hit with an overwhelming force, being corralled into a pair of arms.

“Let go.” You whimper, struggling.

“I'm sorry,” Mizu gasps, chest heaving against your back. “Don't... don't die.”

She represses a trembling sigh into your shoulder, the faint moisture of tears dotting the bare skin of your neck. You're surprised, brows raising.

“And what are you sorry for?” You question, seeing if she'll be honest.

“I was working with The Count, we were going to send you away and take your money,” She picks her head up from your shoulder so you can clearly hear her. “So, please... don't get married to him.”

“Are you worried about me?” You turn around in her arms, taking sight of her tear-stricken face. You had never seen her cry, never thought she would, at least not in front of you. “You shouldn't be.”

Taking a step back, she keeps her hands on your arms. “Why not?”

With a thumb pressed into her cheek, you swipe away any stray droplets. “Taigen and I were tricking you. You were going into the madhouse, under my name. Then I'd get to take up your name and run far, far away.”

Her eyes dart across your face, unable to sense any hint of a lie in what you've revealed to her.

“Fuck! I should've never trusted that asshole!” She yells, piercing the quiet of the night.

But her arms are back around your waist, coddling you close to her chest. Like if she can't feel the pressure of your body against hers, you'll be gone, whittled down into infinitesimal shards she couldn't see anymore. Her truth lies in the way her breath evens out, the way she gathers your wrist up in her hands, fingers caressing your pulse point, to lead you back to your room. How she checks behind her every so often to make sure you're alright. Those little actions that make her Mizu, the real one.

Maybe Madam Kaji was wrong about ogres waiting to smother you.

Mizu sits at your desk, carefully writing out a letter to her folks back home, informing them of the new turn of events; the two of you teaming up against Taigen. Placing a solid gold bracelet next to her which she could enclose as payment, you settled down alongside her. Taking the bracelet between her teeth to test its legitimacy, she grinned.

“This'll go far for them, thank you.” She tells you.

When she's feeling genuine happiness, it's hard for her to wipe the smile off her face, you notice. You hope that once you two are able to make it away from all this, she never stops smiling.

So the next morning, when your fiance beckons you over to the side of his carriage, you don't let your fear stop you.

“Just because you have a week of freedom, doesn't mean you can misbehave,” His words were full of venom as he spat them towards you. “Don't forget where I'll put you.”

You take a bow, eyes cast to the cobbled ground. You wouldn't let him get to you, not any longer when you had Mizu there for you. The two of you would be successful, and then you could run so far from this place you wouldn't remember how to get back even if you tried. Nobody would be able to find you again. If they did... you're sure Mizu would have some things to say about that.

Slowly approaching her, you smile, willing any bad thought out of your mind at the sight of her pretty face. “Let's go,” You tell her. “We don't have a lot of time before we have to leave.”

“Come, then.” While she offers you her arm, you're hesitant to take it, choosing to step past her. You would've, but the idea of Taigen still lurking around the estate and the possibility of the other servants not having gone far, you avoid her touch.

You can hear her sigh behind you, though you're aware of the light undertone to it– she knows you're trying to refrain from any rumors cropping up before you leave, lest Taigen catch wind of them. Her steps follow you, wordlessly keeping up. You're thankful she seems to understand why silence befalls the two of you. Though you feel the subtle gesture of her hand at the small of your back, tensing for a moment. Mizu's breath hits your ear when she leans in even closer to you, her raspy voice calling out to you to 'come on'.

There's a moment after packing your things that you turn to her, hands smoothing down her apron. Your fingers are twisting into the fabric, not ready to have her change into her 'disguise’– really just a cloak, her glasses and a kasa, but it does well to hide her face– quite yet. She's always been your handmaiden. Even with it being a role for her to fill, a part to play, she's tended to you with such care. You couldn't wait until you were both just normal people. No ladyship, no servantry. You wanted to dote on her, flood her with all of your affections and have no one bat an eye at it. Though, she pulls your hands from her, holding them in her own. Her thumbs graze across your palms, a distant look in her eye.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask her, which definitely startles her out of whatever daydream she's having.

“About how we need to leave,” Mizu takes your arms in her hands to spin you around to face your luggage. “Let's go, princess.”

That little nickname she's given you makes you roll your eyes, watching as she cloaks herself and puts on her glasses and kasa. The sight almost makes you blush, the way she's effortlessly beautiful and handsome at the same time.

“Actually,” You speak up, turning to her anxiously. “Would you follow me?”

She's unsure, you can tell by the way her eyes squint, but she agrees. After last night, you're sure she's on edge, rightfully so. Finding out the tables were turned on her must've been difficult, but she knows you feel no loyalty to Taigen. Despite everything, you two are each other's safety. Taking her down that stepping stone path to the library, you're not entirely sure where you're going with this. That place had been your whole life, and maybe the idea of leaving it behind was a little terrifying, regardless of the grim reality it held within its walls. Perhaps you just needed to see it one last time, really make sure you were leaving it behind.

Mizu's startled by that ceramic snake again, carefully toeing the barrier between inside and outside. She steps over it once she sees you bypass it, unafraid. You see her briefly grimace at the sight of a small, erotic porcelain statuette. Your fiance has a few of those around, blatantly making his predilections known to those who enter. Perhaps she thought it was just a little one off, a bizarre trinket owned simply for the peculiarness of it. She's corrected when you hand her the volume of some series she's never heard of. Flipping through the pages, she halts when she comes across the illustrated pages. Women in various degrading positions, breasts and nether regions fully drawn. Those blue irises of hers somehow become even icier, glancing from the book, to you, back down to the book.

Her gaze catches on the spinel earrings one of the women is depicted wearing.

“Is this...” Her voice is gravelly, like she's straining to get the words out. “What you've been reading, this whole time? To your fiance, those men that show up?”

You're not sure what you expected when you brought her here. Maybe your whole life, you've known that what's been done to you has been wrong, that you've been used as an object of desire to satisfy certain pleasures. Her anger, though, radiated through you. Tugged on a heartstring so deep within you you thought it had been entirely cut loose. She looks up at you one more time, meeting that teary gaze of yours. Mizu shakes her head, taking that page in her hands and ripping it from its bindings. Striking the long buried part of you that felt you were worth something. Worth fighting for, worth rendering this whole library asunder. Throwing the book on the ground once the drawing is in tiny pieces, she moves forward fast, looking for whatever she can get her hands on and destroy. Her chest heaves with every agonizing huff of breath she inhales, fueled by the heights of her rage. That saddened look in your eye, which had been hardened over time into something you had resentfully accepted– the pure hatred she felt for anyone who had ever betrayed you, tortured you, anyone you had ever read a fucking word to.

Her cape billowed behind her as she moved through the room, grabbing books from their rightful places and hurtling them to the ground below, ultimately damaging their spines and covers. You're trailing after her, a lost puppy watching in amazement. Shreds of paper litter the floor, stepping on them in your rush to follow. Pulling a concealed dagger from you don't know where on her person, she's slashing through the parchment of as many scrolls as she can find. Kneeling on the ground and slicing page upon page. Those familiar stories, all ones you recognized, made useless at the hands of someone who loved you. She yelps, the dagger handle slipping out of her palms with how furious her motions were. It does little to deter her though, collecting it and continuing her assault of the library. Shoving entire rows of novels onto the floor, books ending up in ruined heaps. She throws open one of the glass display cases, the lid shattering upon impact to the floor. Carrying over pots of colored ink, she smears it over the illustrations housed within. Hands stained all manners of red and blue, you can't stop the few tears that finally slowly shed.

You wet your lips, feeling pieces of you come together at this unhinged spectacle of romance. Isn't that what the relationship between you two has been all this time, anyway? An unexpected force that knocked you on your ass the moment you realized you loved her. More than that, the moment you realized she loved you. Yes, exhaustion had buckled you into submission, but love had weathered you into a storm.

Hurrying over to the tatami mat floor, you remove some of them to uncover the shallow pools of water that lay below. Mizu nodded, gathering up piles of the books in her arms to bring them over. Helping her, you could feel your lungs burn, eyes painfully wet with... astonishment? Pain? Some mixture of the two, perhaps. She kicks her shoes off, stepping into the water to fully submerge the books. To the side stands you, holding some more pots of ink. You're petrified. Until she looks up at you, and the fury in her eyes subsides when she sees you, turning into that gaze you know, now.

Lovesickness.

You hurl ink into the water, effectively dyeing the books into a muddle of colors. Joining her in the water, you stomp away, pulling even more books in. Breathing labored, Mizu steps out. Gripping a flat length of metal adorned with a tassel in her hands, she stands before that snake. Steadying it in her hands and widening her stance, she swings hard. Shards of ceramic go flying, the head taken clean off the sculpture.

It's your life in summary. Those bits of shrapnel, the way Mizu had torn your life apart the second she stepped foot in it.

Your savior.

Your Mizu.

There's a renewed vigor in Mizu's movements as she guides you out of the manor. One of her last acts of protecting you before she begrudgingly has to place you in the arms of Taigen to fulfill the rest of the plan. This time, when she offers her arm to you, you take it. She keeps you level over even the most jagged paths, catching you when you stumble. A cobbled wall stands between you and your freedom, slowing down to a stop when you reach it. Mizu drops the satchels you carry to the ground, heading over the wall. Her arms go around your waist, picking you up and placing you down on the other side with little difficulty.When she lands next to you after grabbing your bags, you can't help but smile at her, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“What?” She asks, a hint of awkwardness in her tone.

“Nothing, nothing!” You bump into her with your shoulder.

She sighs, shaking her head but hiding her expression from you. “Come on, we don't have any time to waste.”

Running through grassy fields, the sun finally starts to peek through the treeline. You barely ever have any time to catch your breath, but your rowdy laughter and wide smiles are proof you don't care. You know it won't be long before Taigen meets up with you, taking you away and sending Mizu off into that asylum. For now, you're together. In this world only the two of you exist, where your hands can meet, lips can kiss. Your only witnesses being the fall of the moon and the rising of the sun, the soft blades of grass beneath your feet, the bubbling creeks of water.

Everything up to that point had led you here– Mizu being hauled away, crying out for you. Yet your cheeks hurt from containing your chuckles, the knowledge that Taigen would have everything handed back to him, tenfold. All the unnecessary shit he's put you both through... He'd be nothing in a matter of days.

You click your tongue, clearing the tears out of your eyes.

“I'm hungry, Taigen.”

It’s not like it mattered. Today was the day your fiance would leave to go on his weeklong trip to your family’s business. Taigen was already tucking himself away, hiding himself to where your fiance wouldn’t find him as he was taken past the bounds of the manor. All the servants were gathered at the front entrance, bidding him goodbye. His carriage, however, stopped only after a few feet. Your fiance’s hand appeared, waving you over. Your shoes clicked on the cobbled ground as you trotted over to his side.

“Just because you have a week of freedom, doesn’t mean you can misbehave,” He hisses, tone sinister and gravelly. “Don’t forget where I’ll put you.”

Without you even replying, his carriage starts moving again. You keep your eyes downcast, a shallow bow to your posture. Once he’s around the corner and out of sight, the servants all begin to clear out, though Mizu remains. Even from afar, she can tell whatever he said to you has shaken you up. When you look back at her, your eyes are distant and glossy. It’s hard for her to not remember how broken you looked the night before, too. Wet eyes craving to be met with a touch that had real intentions– motivated by love rather than money. The way your voice had wavered, yelling at her to get out… you sounded so crushed. She wanted to take you by the wrists, let her kisses travel from your fingertips up the path to your shoulder, to your neck, to your lips. Tell you nothing was wrong, that the two of you could forget about your fiance, Taigen, anyone that wasn’t the two of you. Mizu doesn’t move, watching your slow movements back to her.

“Let’s go,” You smile at her, a hopeful glint returning to your eyes. “We don’t have a lot of time before we have to leave.”

Mizu’s heart clenches, though she tries to suppress it with a cough. “Come, then.” She holds her arm out for you. She remembers when you would’ve latched yourself to her instantly, hands locked around her. Like you felt safe, protected by her side.

This time, you step past her, pretending you didn’t see her offer her arm.

Sighing, she follows after you, doing her best to keep up with your quickened pace.

The walk back to your room is an eerily silent one, neither of you ready to address the other. Thoughts run wild in Mizu’s head, wondering what would be the right thing to say to you. There’s at least something soothing about the fact you wanted her to accompany you on your escape. Maybe you didn’t entirely hate her as much as she thought you would. Taking a few longer strides, she catches up to you. Reaching out, she places a hand at the small of your back to guide you. Briefly, you tense at the touch before relaxing, turning your head away from her to hide your sheepishness. Of course, by doing so, you miss the way her lips curve into a smirk. Leaning close to you, breath hitting your ear, she whispers out a husky “come on”, leading you to your room.

Nightfall shrouds the estate in darkness, gentle candlelight shining in the corridors. Mizu watches your grin grow the longer you spend packing away your things. Skin basking in the orange glow, eyes gleaming with a rare joy. Her teeth worry into her bottom lip, helplessly aware that in only a few days' time, she’d no longer be your handmaiden. Not be… yours. She felt like yours. If she focused, tuned out all other noise, settling only on your content sighs, could she pretend it was just the two of you going on a trip? One that didn’t involve putting anyone away into an asylum, or you getting married to fucking Taigen. How awful that, after all this, you’d be his wife? It’s possession rather than devotion to him; wife means mine, mine means property. She’s listened to him degrade you, those misogynistic remarks of ‘bitch’. Watched him rake his claws over your body in an effort to mar you. If she had any freedom to do so, she’d rid him of his hands so he never could again. If you were her wife… Wife means mine, mine means yours too.

“Mizuuu,” You draw out her name, bounding over to her once all your things have been put away. “I’m excited.”

You’re bouncing in place in front of her, that smile of yours widening even further. “Mhm,” Mizu mumbles. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy with The Count.”

Huffing, you shake your head. “I’m happy because you’re coming.”

“Is that so?” Her hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, smirking.

“Of course,” You twist your fingers into the fabric of her apron, peering up at her. “I always want you by my side.”

Mizu’s face warms, scoffing at your words. “Only because you’re so spoiled you need a handmaiden.”

She peels your hands off of her, afraid you’d start to feel her heartbeat. Her thumbs press against your palm as she does so, and there’s a flash of an idea in her mind that she should kiss you. Put your hips in her hands and push you until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall, taking her with you. You’d wrap your arms around her shoulders, let your nails comb through her hair. To hear you whisper out her name against her lips, to tell her you love her. If she had enough bravery, could she do the same? Let those words tumble out of her mouth?

What really frightens her is that she needs you too.

When has she ever needed anyone?

Her dreams once consisted of her, alone. Off in some remote location, where she could live peacefully. Forage, fish, smith like that older man in her village who she had apprenticed under for some time. No more pickpocketing or forgeries, just a simple life. When a sum of your wealth had been offered to her by Taigen, a shift occurred. A simple life, still, but with lavish touches here and there. Better food, enough clothes that she wouldn’t have to spend hours repairing them to rewear as long as she could. A sturdy home that’d outlast her. Standing in front of you, she could physically feel the final shift.

Trudging through snow, nose frozen red, she’d push open the wooden door to find you tending to a fire. In her hands would be the spoils of her journey hunting and gathering outside. Enough, more than enough, to make a hot meal for the two of you to share. You’d shiver at the gust of wind entering, and she’d hurry to close the door behind her. She’d let you run over, paw at her to sit her down by the fire. Lifting an arm, she’d let you in under her cloak, the heat of your bodies radiating off each other. In the flickering light, the ring she would forge for you would sparkle as you twirl it around your finger. Plant a kiss to your hair while you lay your head on her shoulder. You’d be so close to her, nearly one whole rather than two halves.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask her, shocking her out of her reverie.

“About how we need to leave,” Mizu takes you by the arms, spinning you around to your baggage. “Let’s go, princess.”

You roll your eyes, secretly fond of the nickname she’s given you, even if it originally came from her annoyance of you. She dons a kasa to better obscure herself, knowing her blue eyes would bring unwanted attention. Each of you grabs two satchels, taking care to quietly exit your room. Mizu walks in front of you, attentive to your hesitance. She’s quick to guide you through the terrain of the hills past the manor, offering her arm when there’s a particularly rocky patch. When you two reach a wall of cobbled stone, she sets down the satchels she carried, turning to you. Mizu’s hands encircle around your waist, hauling you up and over the short wall. Once she’s got your baggage back in hand, she herself steps over, landing next to you.

“What?” She asks, questioning your stare.

“Nothing, nothing!” You smile, bumping your shoulder into hers.

Mizu sighs, returning to her spot in front of you. “Come on, we don’t have any time to waste.”

You both fall back into a comfortable silence, passing through stretches of trees, making your way down to a riverbed. There, The Count would come down the river to meet you both in a canoe. He had found a shrine deep in rural Japan that would marry the two of you, an inn attached that could secretly house you as he got everything authorized. It’d take a day of sailing, a ferry ride, a train ride, and then an additional hike to reach said shrine. The distance was necessary, should your fiance decide to come chasing after you once he finds you married to another man.

Mizu steps into the wooden vessel first, taking your bags from you. Reaching out, she grabs you by the hand to help maneuver you to sit inside the boat. When you’re seated, she settles down next to you, squinting at Taigen. For a moment, she could’ve pretended the two of you were at the riverbed just to watch the water. Share the sunset, then be on your way back home. Not that Mizu wanted you in your estate, not with your fiance– but home as in whatever little lodging the two of you could reside in together. How agonizing that Taigen had to show up. Suddenly feeling a weight on her shoulder, Mizu notices your head resting on her.

“Do you need to sleep?” She whispers, quiet enough so only you can hear.

You shake your head, slightly jostling her. “No, I just wanted to get comfortable.”

You wiggle your hand into hers, interlocking your fingers and keeping them together on your lap. She doesn’t pull away from you but feels a hint of remorse, or guilt, perhaps. Mizu’s eyes flicker to Taigen, but he doesn’t say anything if he notices. Rather, his attention is primarily focused on rowing the boat and the surrounding scenery. Exhaling, she lets her other hand fall to the side of the canoe, skimming the water. It’s freezing cold, eliciting a shiver from her. She continues to dip her fingers in the water, watching droplets roll off her skin every time she pulls back. Between the iciness of the water and the heat of your palm, she’s grateful for the frigid sensation. It distracts her, or at least if she trembles she can blame it on feeling chilly. She figures you must be cold too, the way you try to nuzzle even further into her body. If Taigen weren’t here, she’d tell you how sweet you looked doing so; cute, even. Cover your face in a flurry of kisses that she knows would make you giggle, the sound music to her ears. She could sufficiently warm you, embrace you in her arms and let you burrow yourself into her cloak like she did in her dreams.

She wonders how bad it would be if she pushed Taigen into the freezing water. To leave him behind. To have her be the one to marry you out in the middle of nowhere at some desolate shrine. Mizu thinks she’d be able to burn a hole through him with the way her glare landed on him the entire boat ride.

The ferry is even worse, somehow. Mizu considers again how much trouble she’d get into if she shoved Taigen overboard, left to float along the water. There’s a rush of people along for the ride, crowding the three of you looking out to sea. You’re quick to huddle next to Mizu, making sure your face is well hidden. She can tell you’re in fear of being so far from home, especially for the first time ever. Her knowledge of your fiance was… not pleasant, and she hated to know the man was still alive somewhere.

You’re sandwiched between her and Taigen, though the gap you leave on your other side is apparent. He tries to sidle up next to you, an arm around your shoulders to hug you into him. Trying to make you cozy up to his body. When Mizu sees you swat at him and storm away, she shakes her head.

“I told you not to scare her.” She spats, footsteps thudding on the deck as she follows you.

Obviously it’s not like you went far, just to the opposite end of the ferry, so it’s easy for her to find you. You’re pouting, hugging yourself. She assumes it’s to make yourself look small, to deceive the eyes around you despite your fancy set of clothes that’ll make you stick out. Pack yourself into an infinitesimal atom that no one could lay hands on again. So Mizu keeps her distance. Lets her arm only just barely brush against you when she steps to stand next to you. She stares at the open water, content to stay silent unless you choose to speak.

You do.

“It’s really beautiful out here,” You whisper. “I’ve never seen the sea before.”

Your arms are touching now, so close that Mizu can feel how chilled your skin is underneath the sleeves of your dress.

“I figured you’d like it.” When she tilts her head to look at you, the kasa on her head blots out the sun as it shines.

It was just another way for all three of you to conceal your identities– not wanting any unnecessary company on your journey. But now, you felt your breath hitch. Even with her face shrouded in shadow, the rays of light behind her, she looks… radiant. She looks safe.

“It reminds me of your eyes.” You gaze up at her, trying to peek at her eyes.

She has her glasses on though, the orange tinted ones you told her she didn’t have to wear. At least, not around you. You wished you could take them off of her, throw them into choppy waters and make sure she never felt she had to hide. Kiss her eyelids, between her brows, the height of her cheekbones until no utterance of the word ‘demon’ would make her turn her head. After all, you thought, what sort of demon veils you from darkness rather than bathes you in it?

She coughs, raising a finger to adjust her glasses. Were you not in public, she might have mustered the courage to take them off– plop them right into your hands to be taken away from her. When she was still getting used to being around you, you’d click your tongue and wag your finger at her every time you saw her wearing them. Gradually, she’d start leaving them in the front pocket of her apron. You’d always greet her a little warmer when she wasn’t wearing them. Almost like you looked… proud. An emotion she could’ve never discerned in anyone’s eyes before you. She knows that, now of all times, she can’t kiss you. Probably shouldn’t even touch you at all, lest Taigen’s eyes trail over to you two.

But it’s an urge she can’t resist anymore. She wraps an arm around your waist, letting her fingertips tap against your hip rhythmically. Trying to memorize the way your torso conforms to her own as you stay impossibly near to her.

The train ride goes smoothly, at least. There too, you’re seated next to her rather than Taigen, instead across from him. You took the spot closest to the window, endearing Mizu. For the entire ride your stare is glued to the outdoors. Head lowered so her line of eyesight is hidden to Taigen under her kasa, she watches you from the corner of her eye. The flutter in her stomach is strange to her– seemingly captivated by you. Your first real taste of freedom. You’re watching the rolling mountains, the passing trees. The sky, finally no longer stained by gray rain clouds, beckons you with how bright it is. Every so often you’ll tug at the fabric of her sleeve, pointing to some rural structure or waterway that impresses you. If she knows the name of whatever landmark you’re gesturing to, she whispers it to you, even a short history lesson if she can manage. It clearly delights you, the way you listen intently, beaming and nodding along as she speaks. Taigen’s too busy flirting with one of the servants on board, fetching him beverages as he gets handsy with her. Mizu scoffs, though, she can’t help but smirk at the thought that crosses her mind. Perhaps, with her dressed in kasa, glasses and robe, sitting next to you, she looks more like your husband than Taigen? Nobody would blink an eye if she put an arm around you, or sat you in her lap, or kissed you. Fuck, the longer she’s forced to be near Taigen the more she’s trying to deduce ways to kill him. Or at least, nearly kill him.

When it comes time to partake in the train’s provided meal, Mizu watches you with care. You eat your rice grain by grain, tentatively pushing the other portions around. Nudging you with an elbow, she nods her head at your food to question you.

“Are you not hungry?” She asks.

“Just… nervous,” You tell her, shrugging and sinking further into your seat. “I’ll be fine.”

Mizu raises a brow. “You’re sure? We’ve got quite a walk ahead of us, you know.”

“Mhm.” You nod, though it barely convinces her.

“Alright,” She clicks her tongue. “Then don’t ask me to carry you up that mountain, then.”

“You say that, but I know you would,” You grin, teasing her. “You’d never abandon me like that.”

Right.

She wouldn’t.

Mizu leaves it at that, shaking her head and going back to picking at her own rice. You’re still just pecking at yours, but she supposes it really is just nerves bothering you. You’ve got so much ahead of you.

When you finally make it to the mossy staircase leading to the shrine, she can see you deflate. It’s a long way up, and you’re in those fancy heeled shoes that she’s pretty sure she told you specifically not to wear. Mizu calls Taigen over, pointing at your bags.

“Take those, you carry them.” She all but demands, to which he grunts and does so.

“Of course, we don’t want our lady overexerting herself.” He grumbles, sarcasm evident in his tone.

Choosing to respect the sacred environment of the shrine, Mizu decides it’s better if she doesn’t smack him across the head for now.

By the time you all finally make it, you’re exhausted. A layer of your sweat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, making you cringe at the feeling. One of the helpers at the shrine would then bathe you, clothe you, and get you ready for your makeshift wedding. All you’d be doing is reciting some oaths and signing a paper. It was insisted upon by The Count that you two keep some things traditional. By ‘some things’ he really meant you, finding yourself clad in bridal kimono, makeup, and hairstyle– all while he remained in that suit of his. You definitely scoff at this, thinking he could’ve put at least a modicum of effort in like you. The two of you kneel in front of a monk, incense burning.

Mizu is a step down behind the both of you, kneeling as well. Besides the monk, she’s the other witness to your union. She thinks you look beautiful. She’s never been one to consider marriage all that much, thinking it a scam– a quick way for someone to lose their independence. The bridal look, however, suits you. It really does. So much so that she wishes you were marrying someone you truly loved. Wishes you were accepting a ring on your finger from someone who would cherish the meaning of it. Who would wake up every morning, find your hand in theirs and kiss your knuckles. Who couldn’t bear to rest without knowing you were there beside them. Safe, sound, ring still secure around your finger.

It’s excruciating to watch Taigen’s ambivalent expression as you place the other ring onto him. It shouldn’t be him. She’s certain there are many, many others out there who are more than deserving of that spot. Selfishly, she wants to throw him down the staircase. Leave him broken and bruised at the bottom, penniless. Find you in this same spot to smile up at her as she takes his place, kneel in front of this monk and marry you.

Unfortunately, she has to go through the motions of preparing you for your wedding night. Her stomach turns, knowing you’ll have to lay with Taigen. One of the woman innkeepers is in the room as well, setting up two large bedrolls. Right next to each other. Mizu is behind you, taking your hair into her hands and brushing through it as leisurely as she can. Delaying the inevitable. You’re out of your bridal wear now, in a more casual kimono suitable for resting. The repetitive motions of combing through your locks has Mizu’s head spinning, lost in the idea that she could pretend this was your wedding night. That she could brush the hair away from the nape of your neck, glide your sleeves down your arms with her mouth quickly following their path. Leave blooms of soft purple and the dips of her teeth in her wake until she could turn you over, lips hovering over your pelvis. Where you’d cry out please. Cry for your wife to take you.

She’s startled by the other woman leaving, noticing The Count outside the door once she opens it. He clears his throat, directed at Mizu to leave. She nods, though the woman closes the door behind her. Through the screen door, Mizu can see his shadow take a few steps down the hallway to follow the innkeeper.

Your hands grip at her, pulling her down to roughly press your lips against hers. Your tongue comes out to lick at her bottom lip, leaving her out of breath as she pants against you. She can hear you sigh out a wanton ‘more’, almost crawling your way into her lap. Mizu groans, taking hold of you by the shoulders and heaving you backwards. Stumbling against your bedroll, your lips curl slyly at the blushy glow of her cheeks.

“You can’t do that.” Mizu gasps, standing upright near the door now.

You just shrug, twirling the ends of your hair in your hands.

Tsking, she opens the door again just to reveal Taigen waiting there. He’s looking inquisitively into the room, eyebrow raised as he looks at you. Not wanting to waste any more time, he pushes Mizu out of his way, effectively cutting you off from her.

The flavor of blood floods her tongue as she bites her lip, anxiously heading to her room after having to leave you alone.

On the bedroll in the room next door to yours, she stares at the ceiling. Even with her best efforts, humming a tune to herself, she can’t do anything to drown out the sound– the rustling of your clothes, the stuttering moans escaping you, or that drawn out wail at the end of it all. Her worries grow the more she tries to block it out of her mind. Had she heard you yelp in pain? Heard teardrops hit the tatami mat beneath you? Or was she needlessly panicking, plucking threads loose from her bedroll like she couldn’t control her own hands?

Would it be so awful of her to strangle Taigen the next morning?

Mizu follows the innkeeper into your room the next morning. She grimaces at the fresh splotch of red on the sheet under you, thinking of what a brute Taigen must’ve been. You look a bit dazed, rolling yourself off the bedroll so the other woman can gather up the dirty laundry. Mizu’s hyper aware that even as she leaves, she leaves a gap in the screen door. It doesn’t take long before a shadow appears behind it. The two of you were being watched.

“Mizu, why should I even get dressed,” You sigh, falling onto your back with your hands above your head. “There’s nothing for me to do.”

“I know, but you still need to get yourself proper for the day.” She says, chuckling.

Part of her fears you might actually go mad with how long Taigen is taking to finalize everything. Turning all of your inheritance into plain cash was not as simple as it seemed, she supposed. He was also responsible for calling the asylum employees down here who would assess your condition. Mizu and Taigen had already settled their story– you were crazy, needing shelter with doctors so that you could cause no harm.

You sit up, clinging to her. “Let me dress you up like before?”

Mizu sighs, unable to reject your pleading eyes. “Quickly.”

As of The Count’s return, you’ve got Mizu clothed in one of your finest kimonos. A vibrant one, suiting the contours of her shape and tones of her skin. You notice that as you two stayed indoors, rain began to pour outside. Mizu steps out first to greet The Count, who carries with him a supposedly heavy bag.

“Hurry up and get those doctors here so we can throw her in the asylum.” She hisses at him, though her nerves are assuaged when he opens the bag.

Bundles of money sit right there in front of her. More than she’s ever seen in her entire lifetime. More than she would’ve ever seen, if she didn’t take Taigen up on his offer.

You eventually are outside too, head tilted when you take a peek inside the bag The Count’s brought back. You find yourself struggling to breathe as you watch Mizu and The Count share a knowing look.

Despite his urgency, the doctors only manage to arrive a few days later, blaming the delay on the stormy weather. They wear suits just as Taigen does, taking their hats off as they step inside the room to talk to Mizu. As your handmaiden, she was closest to you and capable of answering all their questions as truthfully as possible. She honestly finds them a bit intimidating. Clearing her throat, she hides the blue earrings of yours she was toying with under her leg. They’re to the point, knowing exactly what questions they’re going to ask as soon as they’re settled across from her.

One of them points over to where you sit, mindlessly sewing at some piece of fabric. Your clothes are more plain today, a simple kimono. “And who is that person?”

“She’s The Countess, on account of now being married.”

“And you are?”

“Her handmaiden, Mizu.”

The doctor speaking nods, while the one next to him begins to jot notes down in a small journal. “What do you think is the proper treatment for your lady?”

Mizu looks to The Count, and then you. Innocent you, tucked away and focused on your menial task. Taking a deep breath, she leans closer to the doctors and begins to whisper.

“She should be taken far away, to an asylum where no one can hurt her and she can’t hurt anyone else.”

The interview with her concludes at that, the doctors deciding you’d need to go through some more tests. Taigen arranges a carriage for you all. A visit to the asylum to finish the assessment, and then a meal. During the ride there, Mizu can’t shake the feeling of your eyes on her. No one dares to speak a word. Approaching the asylum, you can all see what a formidable structure it is; made of dark brick with barred windows, faint screams emanating from them. First to exit the carriage, Mizu goes to greet the doctors, hopefully making the experience less scary for you. Taigen is gentle as he escorts you, taking you by the hand to help you.

Mizu pulls you into a hug, rubbing at your back to soothe you. Sorrowfully, you pull back and step away from her, choosing to stay at The Count’s side.

“Countess, it’s good to see you well.” One of the doctors speaks up.

Two nurses come up from behind Mizu, taking her by the arms. Confused, she struggles out of their grasp and pushes them away.

“What’s going on?” She nearly growls, staring them down.

“You have nothing to fear, Countess. We’ll take good care of you here.” The doctor tells her.

“I’m not The Countess, she is.” Mizu harshly points at you, disbelief in her eyes.

“I apologize for her behavior,” Taigen pipes up. “She must still believe she’s a handmaiden. It’s… tragic.”

Mizu seethes, her scream permeating the air. “Fuck you!”

The nurses are able to grab hold of her again, this time their grip on her is more stable. 

“Miss?” She asks, eyes set on you as you step up to one of the doctors.

“This is from her mother,” You gingerly place a trinket into the doctor's hands. “She’ll like having it.”

It’s the same locket you had shown her on her first official day as your handmaiden. The one where inside usually sat a picture of your own mother. This time, rather, was a picture of Mizu that Taigen had painted. Her face falls watching you, eyes rimmed red and glossy.

“Looks like your maid is very considerate, isn’t she?” The doctor asks, smiling to appear less threatening.

Oh.

Mizu continues to fight against the nurses, desperately trying to escape their possession of her. When she looks back to call after you, you’re laughing as you gaze at the ground– grinning subtly, like this was a joke. Taigen stands behind you, already ready to get back in the carriage and take off without her.

She suspects that, this whole time, from the beginning of it all, that Taigen was right.

You were a bitch.

You’re upright on your bed, heart thudding with every heavy step Mizu takes that shakes the floor. “I can feel a nightmare coming.”

“And?” She stares.

You’ve never been scared of her eyes. But her glare is frighteningly cold, devoid of any care for you. You yearn to see her eyes the way you had seen them yesterday; comforting you, cupping your cheeks and telling you those tender words to not feel guilty for being born. You’d hate to hear whatever thoughts were running through her mind right now, if she felt any sense of regret. Her lack of emotion towards you left you bitter.

“You know, it’s hard to do those readings. I would’ve liked it if you were here to help me with my clothes,” You flip the corner of your blankets over, scooting to the left and patting the spot where you sat. “Lay here.”

“Yeah,” Mizu scoffs. “I’m sure you would’ve gotten your clothes off just fine with The Count’s help.”

You don’t respond, already on your side and staring at the wall. Away from her.

If she looked close enough, she thought she could see a tremor in your shoulders. That feisty resolve of hers was crumbling, and it didn’t take long for her to slide in next to you. She too faced opposite you, not wanting to look you in the eyes. A few beats of silence pass once she settles under the covers. Closer to you now, she can feel it. Your breaths aren’t the most stable, and your skin emanates a chill that almost worries her.

“The Count… he proposed to me,” You’re whispering so quietly she’s not even sure if you can hear yourself. “Next month, when my fiance leaves for his visit to the family business, we’ll escape and elope.”

She’s plucking at the threads of your blankets, shrugging. “You said yes?”

“I said I wasn’t sure.”

“Why?” Mizu’s tone switches to annoyance. That wasn’t the plan; you were supposed to be elated. Say yes in an instant.

“I’m scared of The Count.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Mizu grits her teeth, as if she’s trying to convince herself of the lie she just told. “He’s a better man for you than your fiance.”

“I can tell he’s not, like an instinct.” You’re sighing, rolling yourself over so that you face Mizu’s back.

Gulping, she finds the courage to do the same. Your breaths, short and shallow, billow across her face. Strands of your hair fall over your cheek. In a moment she doesn’t even think, tracing your cheekbone with her finger to tuck your hair behind you. Like an instinct.

Before she can get too distracted, you lean close to her.

“Mizu,” You mumble, and there’s a tinge of embarrassment on your expression. “I don’t understand men. What they want after marriage… I didn’t have a mother here to teach me. I know first… I’d have to kiss The Count, right?”

She’s dumbfounded, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, you’d have to kiss him. Which you’ve already done, so I don’t know why you’re having a fit.”

“I’m not!” You whine, the noise tugging on Mizu’s heartstrings. Maybe she liked when you were a little bit of a playful brat. “I just don’t know about everything that… comes after.”

“You and The Count will kiss, and then hug. In bed,” She snorts at putting such inappropriate thoughts into innocent euphemisms. “Just say yes. It’ll be fine, you don’t even need to think about it.”

“What if I don’t feel anything?” You mutter, squirming in discomfort.

Mizu groans, head falling. “Look, I’ll show you one thing, then you’ll go to bed, wake up and say yes to The Count. You can figure the rest out yourself.”

She can’t say she didn’t feel bad for you; even though she herself didn’t have a mother for these things either, she had a plethora of friends who would talk about all these crass topics together. Sharing stories of their encounters to pass the time. Yet here you were, all alone with no peer to fool around with. Though she supposed you now had that little tryst with Taigen– she’d been trying to black it out of her mind to avoid the bristles of anger it’d bring her– but she doubts he taught you anything useful out of that. She knew him. He would put his hands on you and take the lead. Touch you where he wanted to touch you. With pinching fingers that’d sting and bruise. Is that what made her so furious? That she’d be complicit in letting someone like you, fragile and delicate, be fed to a wolf like him? She didn’t care if you liked him. It was fine, it was more than fine, it was the plan. She doesn’t like you.

She reaches over you, digging around the drawer next to you to find the candy you liked; the one she had given you in the bath. Popping it in her mouth, she wets it sufficiently, before spreading a thin, sticky layer of sugar on the outside of her lips. If she was going to kiss you, she’d at least make sure you enjoyed it. For your sake. She doesn’t like you.

But then you’re staring at her expectantly, pouting as you wait for her to make any sort of move, make any sort of comment.

“You’re so…” She sounds breathless, the tightness in her chest growing.

One of her thumbs comes up to pass across your bottom lip. Her knuckles brush against your cheek. Hoping her fingerprints can memorize the little imperfections of your skin. Hoping, selfishly, that her touch could stain you, make you hers.

Cute. Is what she wants to tell you.

“Infuriating.” She finishes, and with the most delicate touch she could muster, presses her lips against your own.

It’s swift, as if your body could barely process the feel of her. When your tongue swipes out, you find that the taste of that candy she had once fed you in the bath is sweeter, this time. It doesn’t take her long to chase after you, giving you another chaste peck.

“Mizu,” You murmur into her mouth, opening your eyes. “How’d you learn this?”

“I had friends who told me.” She tells you.

“In words, or…?” You’re asking, unsure if you want the real answer to that.

“Yes,” She huffs, chuckling. She’s pulling away from you, moving back to how she was before you two kissed. “Just words. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

You’re silent, though she can see the way your eyes have darkened. Yet they’re shining– barely reminiscent of the dull, lonely girl she’s been so used to. It takes her by surprise when you reach for her neck, pulling her lips back to yours fervently. She had kissed you so sweetly, yet your kiss burns her. Ardent with desire, you’re quick to prod your tongue against her mouth. You’re nearly cooing when she opens hers in return, your content exhales satisfying the need she had buried deep within her. Remorse creeps in her bones when she realizes she has to pull away, taking a breath the both of you needed. You’re panting beside her, hand on your chest right over your heart.

“I felt it.” You’re grinning, lips still shining.

Mizu’s smile drops, a cold rush of panic seeping through her when she hears your words. It’s not supposed to be her.

“That’s what you’ll feel for The Count.” She’s rushing to fix the mess she’s made.

“Really?” You’re snuggling yourself closer to her, giggling. “He’ll like bedding me, even with my cold hands and feet?”

You’re playing around, and Mizu wishes she could entertain that. Just for a while, forget all about Taigen. In her mind there’s a world where there is nothing but the two of you; there is no horrible past spent being a criminal, there is no awful fiances, there is no Taigen. There, she can dote on you– and, if she let herself really be vulnerable and admit it to herself– you’d dote on her too. She’d kiss you breathless in the morning, the afternoon, at night. Rest her head on the plush of your thighs while your fingers stroke her hair. Lay her body over yours to keep you warm. Sate your hungers in any way you wished. She’d like bedding you, she wanted to hiss.

“He will.”

“Are you sure?” You’re squinting, still smirking.

“Yes, I’m absolutely-” She’s cut off by the feeling of your hand reaching into her underclothes, the chill of your hand shocking her when it cups her breast. “Oh.”

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts, a devious sparkle in your eye.

She’s gasping when your cold fingers give a faint pinch to her nipple, an intense flush crawling up the back of her neck, her ears, to her cheeks. You bite your lip, thinking just how ethereal she looks; her dark hair framing her face, eyes wide with what you hope is the same lust yours hold, and that pink glow. You wanted, so badly, to sink your teeth into whatever skin of hers you could reach. To taste whatever she’d be willing to give you. You wanted her to give you her touch.

“Show me, Mizu,” You plead, burying your teeth deeper into your lip. “Do it to me.”

She has to get herself together. Her eyes can barely focus on your form in the low light of the room. She kneads at your breast over the fabric of your underclothes, not daring to go further.

“The… The Count will like this, too.” Mizu says with a rasp, barely able to contain herself.

Her hand reaches higher, slipping the sleeve of your robe off your shoulder. Your bare chest now exposed, she watches you shudder as the cold air meets your skin. Her mouth runs dry, making a quick glance back up at your eyes. Taking your upper arm into her hand, she pushes you back so she can hover over you.

“If he sees you like this…” It’s sudden, the way she dips her head down and encloses her mouth around your nipple.

She doesn’t want to hurt you– that much is evident by the way she avoids scraping her teeth against the peak. Instead she laps at it soothingly, relishing in your muffled whimpers. When she sucks, your hand flies to her hair, pulling. The sting as you tug on the strands excites her, causing her to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breast. To the valley between them, following the column of your throat to the bottom of your chin. She can tell your mouth is open in an attempt to speak; teasingly, she circles her thumb around your nipple, wet with her spit. Heavy, stuttered breaths escape you as your mouth opens and closes, trying to gain some footing. Is it wrong of her to say she likes toying with you? Not cruelly, like your fiance would, and not demandingly like Taigen would; but giving you what you want, just never enough. Anything to hear your staggered moans. See the dewdrops of tears shine in the corners of your eyes. And you’ll find that no matter how much she taunts you with just hints of pleasure, that it’s the sweetest touch you’ve ever felt. Ever will feel.

“Will he be this gentle, too?” You ask, voice hoarse.

“How could he not?” Mizu tells you, words tickling your skin. “He’ll do this, too…”

Her fingers dance at the hem of your robe about halfway down your calf, not quite reaching underneath but not entirely innocent, either. She waits until she feels the nod of your head in the crook of her neck, and then she’s diving in. It parts so easily, the thin fabric pooling under you. Your legs squeeze together when you feel her trace up your thighs, so slowly you wonder if it’s torture. Tugging at her sleeves, you try to pull her underclothes past her chest, wanting her bare. When you do, she’s descending down your body, tongue trailing down along with her. Her nails scrape down your sides, not deep enough to scratch but enough to leave red lines in their wake. They’d fade before the sun rose, but you’d cherish them all the same, fingers curving over the way they slightly raise your skin.

“Keep showing me,” You breathe out. “Do it like The Count would.”

She has half the mind to bite deep marks into your thighs– if Taigen ever reached down here, he’d be met with imprints of her teeth. Sucked into your skin until they blossom in every bold shade of red, purple, blue. Maybe then, she thought, he could no longer mindlessly devour you– you can’t, not after you had already been so lovingly tended to. Those memories would stick to every nerve ending of yours. You’d think of her during whatever mediocre sex Taigen would put you through. You’d think of the rush of intimacy you two shared. You’d call out her name. Mizu settles by dragging her tongue up your skin; starting from just above the inside of your knee to near the apex of your thighs.

“The Count will tell you that you’re soft, warm, and…” Her hands grab at the back of your knees, positioning them so they’re raised, your feet flat on the bed. Leaning her head against your knee, she sighs. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

You’re leaning up on your elbows now, smiling down at her. Her mind is about to short circuit. You were real. Those precious eyes of yours gleaming with unbridled bliss. How badly had she wanted this without even knowing it? To sink down to your cunt, take your waiting clit into her mouth and taste you. To drink every drop of slick her tongue could. She wanted to hear you keen, to feel you grind your hips on her face. Worship the way you’d clench around her fingers– one, two, however many you’d beg for. Do anything for you that Taigen could never dream of doing. After all, Taigen loved you because he could ruin you; she wanted to ruin you because she loved you. The acknowledgement of that terrified her, her once feverish motions slowing to a halt. Her palms caress the backs of your thighs, tongue coming out to wet her lips as she contemplates what she’s doing. You were being so patient even as she hesitated.

“Would The Count be staring like this, too?” You quip, though your hand soothingly cards through her hair.

“Sorry,” She’s sheepish at your observation. “He would.”

When you mewl out as her lips meet your clit in a timid kiss, she knows she’s a goner.

Her ears ring with the sound of your shared moans the next morning, unable to get the angelic sounds to pass from her mind. She’s once again forced to sit in on your painting lessons with Taigen, the sight of the man making her sick to her stomach. Though, there’s also a twinge of pride knowing she had been the one to watch you come undone. You had fallen apart with such a loud, shuddering gasp– it had sent a quiver up the bumps of her spine, electrifying her. Taigen would never have the luxury of hearing it. Never feel the needy rock of your hips against his own, never delight in the deluge of your wetness soaking him. Even if it were only to happen once, she had already etched herself into you. Carved out a place for herself so that your bodies could mold seamlessly. Your fingers interlocked, legs coupled together as the heat of your arousal slotted against hers.

Mizu’s shaken out of her thoughts when she notices Taigen glide a hand up your arm. The discomfort on your face is apparent. Taigen had given her simple instruction, though– sit and be quiet. Even patronizingly gave her a pencil and some loose sheets of paper to follow along with the lesson. There’s just chicken scratch doodles and letters scrawled across it to quell her frustrations. His hands continue their journey over the dips of your hip.

“Stop.” You whisper, cringing away from his touch.

She wants him to leave you alone. Her pencil scratches harder, listening to you snivel while Taigen just chuckles. It’s not until your own pencil clatters to the floor as you yell, “Stop it!” that she stands up, towering over Taigen sitting behind you.

He lets out a cough, raising himself. He fishes around in his pocket for a while, digging out a coin and extending it to Mizu. “Go find some other job to do. You know?”

Taking one glimpse at you, she sees the trepidation in your expression. Your trembles, imperceptible to the naked eye unless trained for it. By now, she knew exactly what you looked like when you felt fear. Always because of your fiance, or Taigen. Tearing her eyes away from you, she takes the coin from his grasp. Your shoulders fall as she approaches the door. Behind her, there’s a hushed, stuttery breath. She knows it's you. Exhaling, she turns on her heel and stands in front of Taigen.

“My only job is to watch over her.” Mizu says, deliberately enunciating her words as she places the coin back into his palm.

She doesn’t miss the way your lip quirks up, the tension in your muscles easing as you let yourself relax.

Mizu’s chasing after Taigen as he follows just one of the dirt paths on the property. He’s kicking rocks, angrily muttering under his breath until he notices her presence. Taigen, with a furious grip, grabs her wrist and pulls her closer to him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses callously. “I could’ve had her! She’s fully ripe. If you mess this up, we’re fucked!”

She struggles in his grasp, breathing labored from running after him. He doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s continuing on his tirade.

“I have fought way too hard to escape that shitty village,” His skin burns red in exasperation. “I’m not letting you ruin it. Should I tell her what you really are? A lowly thief preying on her, huh?”

“Then I’ll just tell her the same thing about you,” Mizu spits. “The son of a poor farmer from the same poverty stricken village I am.”

“Mizu,” His fingers clasp harder around her arm as he talks calculatedly. “Think of everybody depending on you back home. What would your mother say if she knew you were destroying a golden opportunity such as this?”

Pulling out of his hold, she’s finally able to swat his hand away from her, panting. “Just… don’t go too far. She doesn’t have anyone on this earth, so if you scare her, she’ll never say yes. I’ll… I’ll work on it. And don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

She’s stomping away from him, leaving him behind to stew in his disbelief.

You’re sprawled out across the lounge chair in your room, Mizu on her knees at your feet. Her hands massage up the tired muscles of your calves, adoring your sleepy sighs of peace. You’ve got an elbow propped up on the chair’s arm, cheek in palm as you stare down at her.

“Miss,” Mizu breaks the silence. “You know, your nails have been growing longer since The Count got here. You could go far away with him. You’ve barely ever been past the manor’s yard. Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

“My fiance would follow me. My life has always been like this, so,” With a click of your tongue, you shrug. “I wouldn’t mind staying here… if you were here with me. That’d make me happy.”

Mizu gulps, trying to make her expression as neutral as possible. “The Count loves you. He wants to protect you. What could go wrong?”

“I don’t love him.”

“You do.”

You’re pulling your legs away from her, sitting up straight. Palms flat on the cushion under you, you angle yourself down to her eye level. “How can you tell?”

“You… when you look out the window waiting for your painting lessons, or when in your sleep you turn, or… your nails.” She’s mumbling, unable to look you in the eyes. They’re teary, glossed over with an anger she’s never seen from you before.

“What if I said I loved someone else?” You asked, ignoring the lump in your throat. “I don’t have anyone on this earth… would you really still tell me to marry him?”

She’s hesitant, but Mizu takes your calf into her hands again, looking up at you with optimistic eyes and a smile. She can fix this. Make you love Taigen the way you’re supposed to. “You will love him.”

And then you’re hiccuping, a sob escaping you. Those pearls of tears roll down your face with such speed it startles her. You’re pulling her up by her arms, moving her backwards to the door. She didn’t even know you had such strength in you. “Get out,” Your voice warbles, thick with grief. “Get out.”

“Wait, miss!” She’s collapsing backwards, falling onto her ass on top of the bedroll behind her.

The cold flame in your eyes doesn’t dwindle even as you see her chest rise and fall in quick bursts, the way her hands grip the sheet to stabilize herself. That heartless, indifferent demeanor is the last thing she sees before your door slams closed, bellowing footsteps retreating. Hand over her chest, she does her best to calm her hyperventilating. Lowering herself until she hits the floor, she feels something that she hasn’t in a long time– the bite of tears welling up. Outstretching her arms, she clamors around haplessly, searching for something. There, hidden in the corners of her belongings, was a wrapped up candy. The one she had used to kiss you.

If she closed her eyes and focused on the taste, maybe then she could find herself back in the recesses of her thoughts– in that world that was just the two of you.

“I don’t think that’s the greatest idea.” She shrugs, unsure.

“Why not?” Your head turns over your shoulder to pout. “It’ll be fun.”

She notices that your frantic searching through your clothes has slowed down to a more… gloomy pace. A hint of guilt churns her stomach. Tutting her tongue, she shakes her head. Coming to stand next to you, she sighs and knocks her shoulder into yours.

“Fine, but I pick.” Mizu grumbles.

That light returns to your eyes, the gleam of your smile making her lips curl. It mystifies her, the way she’s grown so fond of your antics. Your everyday interactions started to feel mundane… domestic, even. Mizu had somehow comfortably settled into her role alongside you, your handmaiden. Taigen and your money were the last things on her mind. Part of her wanted to take your face in her hand, stroke her thumb across your cheek. Show you some whisper of affection; the kind you had clearly never gotten, the kind she could tell you craved, but… maybe she craved it too. Flinching was always her base instinct whenever anyone tried to touch her. With you, though? She found she didn’t mind it when your warm hands clasped around her arm. Of course she’d still roll her eyes and let out a huff of feigned annoyance at you, even though she liked when you were close to her. Would it be so wrong of her to think that for once in her life she could protect rather than hurt?

“Well go on, get undressed!” You tell her, bouncing on your feet waiting to shower her in all the elegance you could.

“Are you gonna turn around?” She asks.

“I will, sorry… Looks like The Count gave me too much wine.” You mumble with a nervous chuckle, blaming the heat you feel on your cheeks to the alcohol once more.

After you finally turn, Mizu tries her best to shake the tingle of nerves she feels. She had already seen you unclothed before, but there was never a reason for you to see her. Though, she figured she’d at least still have her underclothes on. She wonders if your eyes would follow the natural lines of her body. Always, your skin had been separated from hers by way of gloves or sleeves or something. Besides that bath she had given you, where you had shallowly dug your nails into her elbow… she wanted more of it. The heat of your palm, the pinch of your fingers. A lump in her throat forms, taking a shaky swallow to steady herself. She disrobes, doing so leisurely as to avoid whatever your reaction would be to seeing her bare. She’s sure there’s probably a few scars here and there, that hopefully you’d avoid questioning– how many household incidents could she conjure up on the spot before you got suspicious, after all– and maybe for this sole moment, she cares about what someone else will think. Taking a deep breath, she kicks her clothes to the side.

“There, I’m done.” Mizu says. “The dress… it’s probably too complicated for me to put on myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Your voice is breathy, and you’re waving your hands around to gesture to her that she can do it. “You’re smart after all!”

Mizu pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I’m asking for your help. Just turn around already. It’s not a big deal if you don’t make it one.”

“Okay.” You think that once you turn around, Mizu will see the beat of your heart through your chest.

She’s just… standing there. Awkwardly alluring, somehow. You can tell her stare is dead set on you, observing the way your gaze moves from floorboards to up her calves to her abdomen to her chest to her face to the hair framing her. She’d usually take it down for bed to be more comfortable, but always put it up when in your presence. To think that you could reach out, brush your nails down her scalp and twirl the long strands in your fingers; or that one day you could lay beside her and see it fan out on the pillow beneath her. You wanted it, and the grief that you might not get it made your chest constrict. Meticulously treading towards her, you gather up the dress and hold it out for her to step into.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Mizu says, and you wonder if you can hear some sort of trepidation in her voice.

“Sorry.” You mutter sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

She doesn’t say anything in response, letting you go through the motions of dressing her up. Turning when you tell her to, watching your eyes rake over her reflection. When you take her hair into your hands to brush it, she lets out a groan of contentment. You hope she can’t feel the way your movements grow wobbly. There's a few tangles in her hair that you mutter apologies for snagging with your comb.

“So jittery,” Mizu looks over her shoulder at you. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Maybe.” You’re whispering, gathering her hair together and putting it into a low bun.

She can’t say she was expecting anything other than a ‘no’ to that question. All she could do was nod, letting the conversation die before it became a mistake she couldn’t afford to make. She’d ignore the way your fingers swept across the back of her neck, despite the touch making her want to turn around and reciprocate. When she suddenly hears you shuffling through some things behind her, she moves to face you.

“These,” You’re handing her those blue spinel earrings, the ones you said reminded you of her eyes. “They’ll suit you.”

Your words could’ve made her laugh, the way they were exactly what she thought of you. “Alright, alright.”

Mizu had doubts about how they’d look on her. She takes them from you– being very mindful that they’re worth more than anything she’s held before– until they finally sit, gems dangling from her ears. You circle around her, standing beside the mirror as she looks at herself.

“You look like a Lady when you’re all dressed up like this,” You’re giggling, hand to your mouth. “I think I understand what The Count means, now.”

“About what?” She asks, still tilting her head at her image in the mirror.

“At night, in bed…” Your eyes become glossy, lips parted. “I think of your face.”

Blindsided, Mizu’s reaction is to scoff, pushing away whatever emotion she might’ve genuinely felt in that moment. “I’m your handmaiden, I’m the last person you see before bed. Of course you think of me.”

She watches you shrug, and it’s as if she can see you curl in on yourself. That’s how it should be, she knows this. Her job was to get close to you, but not this close. Still, she contemplates if she was a little harsh, taking notice of the pinprick of tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Look, this was fun, sure,” Mizu sighs, moving behind you. “Let’s just get you ready for bed, okay?”

She’s faced with the plethora of buttons lining the back of your dress. It reminded her of when she was once a child– the old woman taking care of her had stolen a doll for her. The clothes, made to resemble one of your status, were just like this. Buttons, frills. Fragile, delicate, cute. Did you pick this dress on purpose? Knowing she’d stand behind you, amused to undo them all one by one. To reveal yourself to her. To bare your everything to her. It’d be laughably easy, considering her experience as a pickpocket, to guide her hand inside and couple that softness of yours with the roughness of her palm. Graze that callous skin over the peak of your breast and hear your breath hitch as it catches in your throat. She guides your sleeves down your arms, surprised when you turn around.

“I’ll take care of you, too.”

She sucks in a breath, wondering if you too are going through the same thoughts as her. Undoing the laces, pulling at the cords for them to loosen, did it excite you? Your arms wrap around her as you reach for the strings in front. Curiosity gets the better of you as you bring a gloved hand to her back, finger gliding down the top of her spine.

She arches away from your featherlight touch in an instant. Her brows are furrowed when she looks at you, causing you to shrug with a smile.

“Miss…” Mizu starts, still forming her next sentence in her mind. “Are you really going to marry your fiance?”

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” That smile slips off your face, rendering you to a neutral expression. “He needs my fortune to buy the collection of an esteemed Frenchman.”

She frowns, even as she helps disrobe you of the bothersome corset you wore. Lowering your underclothes, as well. You were obviously not thrilled at the idea of who you were set to marry. It aggravated her. You've been forced into this life, when you deserved to be taken far, far away from any selfish man who tried to prey upon you.

But wasn’t she doing the same?

“Do you ever think about marrying someone else?” She’s leading you, dropping you into unforgiving hands. “Like The Count?”

“You…” Your hands coming up to cover your chest, you clicked your tongue, hiding your words behind a stutter. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

Mizu is shocked when you turn her around forcefully– how many times would you two go through this back and forth tonight– deciding to avoid that topic as you rid her of her underclothes.

“I’ll get my resting clothes on myself.” You whisper, throat scratchy and she’s sure she can guess why.

She wants to take you by the arms, tell you to not think about these men. To run. To escape the teeth that are begging to pierce into you. The pounding in her chest made her lightheaded, thinking of you, fragile you, wounded and alone with no one’s love.

If only she was here to save you.

Tomorrow’s the day your fiance leaves for his week-long escapade to check in on your family’s businesses accumulating wealth. You’d be free of your readings, and The Count would come give you painting lessons in the afternoon.

Mizu’s pretending to wipe down a table as you longingly gaze out the window. It’s nearing the time for Taigen to come to your rescue, ridding you of your loneliness. At least for a few hours. She frowns, shaking her head. How unfortunate, she thinks, that you’ve lost your heart to some phony like him. You’re skittering around the room, rearranging things and busying yourself. It’s… a little pathetic, but Mizu figures she shouldn’t judge. After all, you’ve basically been forced into this love. Her eyes never leave you, even as you check on your appearance in the mirror. Fiddling with your sleeves and how they sit on your shoulders, making sure your skirt is clean and wrinkle free. When the clock sounds off, alerting the turn of the hour, you’re smiling. All bashful and innocent as you tuck your chin to your chest, waiting for The Count to come through that door.

He doesn’t.

Mizu watches the clock tick, and as it does, your face falls ever further into a deep gloom. She takes it upon herself to head out the door and search for him. Greeted by Taigen blatantly flirting with one of the other maids, she coughs. The maid is giggling up a storm, somehow charmed by him, if the red flush on her face was anything to go by. Mizu jerks her head in your direction. Taigen shakes his head, holding up a finger to tell her to wait. Right, his obsession with making you wait, as if that’d make you fall for him even more. She honestly can’t wait to be rid of this bastard.

Shutting the door behind her, she meets your eyes, shaking her head. The pout on your face lingers. Her lids droop a little, as she takes in the sight of your lips. Could she make you smile if her own lips met at the corner of your mouth? If she petted your head and told you not to worry? Just a little bit of affection, enough to perk you back up. Instead, you two sit in silence for the next ten minutes, waiting for The Count. She feels a crack form somewhere deep within her, watching you jump out of your seat as the door bursts open to reveal him.

He’s sitting you down in front of an easel, a still life of peaches and other various objects already sorted out on the table. The Count leans over your shoulder, breath rolling over your skin. Mizu can tell he’s spewing nonsense he made up on the spot, complimenting your ‘vision’ and ability to transcend art. You’ve got three somewhat peach colored blobs on a piece of paper. Not that you couldn’t eventually grow your skill, but… he was reaching. Needlessly laying it on thick to try to pry you out of your shell.

Mizu nearly pukes.

At the sound of her groan, you peek over at her. She’s smiling at you– you think, at least– and all of a sudden you’re shining.

“That’s enough for today,” The Count declares, picking up one of the peaches used for your painting. Biting down into it, the fruit’s juices spray. “Almost fully ripe.”

Mizu tries to disguise her look of disgust, but nods. Did he really already think you were on your way to being in love with him? Enough to say yes to a spontaneous proposal? Though, your behavior around him… she had to guess that you were, too. All shy glances and hushed whispers, hiding your face when he looked at you. Your heart… your poor heart that you’d never again open up to anyone in the world.

It’s a bit later, the two of you taking a walk through some of the paths on your estate. You’re taking slow steps, behind her by a fair amount. When she turns to look at you, she grins.

“You know, ever since The Count showed up you’ve been all shy,” Mizu teases, poking at your face. “All red and embarrassed.”

“Really?” You mumble, your own palm coming up to touch your cheek.

She laughs, amused at your reaction. Maybe Taigen was right, you are almost fully ripe.

“Mizu,” The way you call her name silences her laugh. “How did your mom die?”

That was the last thing she expected you to ask, but she swallowed anyway, preparing herself to answer. “When I was a baby, she was hanged-”

“She hanged herself?” Your eyes are once again full of tears. “That’s how my aunt died.”

She wants to shush you, press a sympathetic kiss to your forehead, anything if it means never seeing your eyes like that again. To tuck the flyaways of your hair back to their respective place, to rub your back until you have no tears left to give.

“Yeah, something like that.” Mizu chuckles, but you continue to stare at her intently.

“Did your mom hug you a lot? My mother died while giving birth to me… it’s like I did it myself,” You stride towards her, taking her arms in your hands, thumbs caressing her elbows. She can hear you gulp, she sees your eyes look up at the cloud filled sky. “I shouldn’t have been born.”

Oh, you really were a poor thing. Those thoughts of yours, she recalls the times they’d cross her own mind. When she’d see her eyes staring back at her in the mirror, a pool of water; when someone would look at her strangely, or run from her in fear. Being here, though, at your home with you… you’d never reacted to her in such a way. You called her eyes pretty. You filled your time with her with smiles, laughs, even when you were being a bratty princess. It's as if those moments were in the far reaches of her mind around you. She wished, and maybe hoped, that she could do the same for you. Mizu knew you weren’t the most chipper, but this? Trying to insert The Count into this would be too far, even for her.

Mizu’s mouth falls open, shaking her head. “What?”

“Sorry.” You hiccup, sniffling, and she can see the sob rack through your chest. You give her a sorrowful smile, waving your hand to drop the conversation. “It’s just been on my mind.”

“Miss…” Mizu frowns, a real one, worried for you. She puts the basket she was holding on the ground next to her, hands now free to cup your face. “I’m sure your mother thought she was very lucky to have you before she died. If she could’ve told you that, she would’ve. Don’t feel guilty for being born.”

You nuzzle your cheek deeper into her palm, grasping at her wrist. Fearing that once she let go of you, she’d disappear. That closeness you haven’t felt since your aunt died, the heat of another human’s skin, meant just to comfort you rather than take. When her hands slip from your face, you can’t help but follow after her.

“Wait here,” She takes a towel out of the basket she held, laying it out on top of a rock. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you.” She can barely take a step before you’re already trying to get up.

“I said wait.” Her hands press down on your thighs to make you sit, though you would’ve obeyed just because of her authoritative voice alone.

Mizu hurries back down the path, plan in mind. The woods surrounding the estate had lots of tasty forage– mushrooms, herbs, flowers. She used to survive off of the land, even when it didn’t give much. She’d come home, personally make you a warm meal– to the best of her lackluster ability, at least– and she’d see you smile. Your chest would fall with a sigh of relief, she’d get to watch your muscles ease from their normally tensed positions. You’d settle back into your bed, tired eyes and deep breaths. Mizu would kiss your forehead, your cheek, the junction between neck and shoulder. Her determination grows until she knocks into Taigen, taking her out of her daydream.

“Thanks for getting me alone with her,” He lowers his mouth close to her so only she can hear. “Good girl.”

“Fuck off.” She hisses, batting his hand away from her.

She’s stomping away until she gets the bright idea to hide behind a tree and eavesdrop. Something about leaving you alone with him felt wrong, at least this early on in the plan. There was a whole week before your fiance would be back, giving her plenty of time to ease her nerves. Nerves she wasn’t fully sure why they were there to begin with, but they were. She’d just have to make do and deal with them. Meaning spying on Taigen.

Nothing even happens between the two of you, so she’s not sure why she was worried. All he did was ask to sit by you. Mizu eventually ran off into the woods to do what she originally set out to do. At some point the weather had turned, rain coming down in heavy splatters. She hoped Taigen had enough sense to take you inside. She returns to the estate with a full basket, coming upon one of the windows that looks inside.

You’re there, hair down and damp, as Taigen sits next to you. You must’ve gotten caught in the rain together. He’s started a fire for the two of you, which makes her grin. He must be doing a good job at getting your attention, surely. She falters only when she notices him lean closer. His hands crawl across your body, from cheek to upper arm to ass. Mizu scowls at his impatience. His greed, his selfishness. He laughs, a wide, fang-bearing smile that’s disconcerting. You’re wriggling away from his grasp, and Mizu swears her veins sear with the rage that flares inside her. It takes a mere minute for her to storm inside, being scolded by another maid for using the wrong entrance.

“I don’t fucking care.” She spats, bounding up the stairs.

She tosses aside the basket of everything she had painstakingly picked for you, watching the goods roll down the steps.

It didn’t matter.

You were fully ripe, and Taigen had plucked you.

Mizu’s exhausted. She had gotten next to no sleep the day before, even though she retired to bed early, feigning sickness to Madame Kaji so that she didn’t have to put up with you. Not like you’d mind, probably off giggling and twirling your hair with fucking Taigen.

It didn’t help that she had to third wheel on this little painting excursion he’d insisted upon. She’s got an easel hanging off her back, canvases in her arm, and the many watercolor supplies that Taigen asked her to bring. Far behind you two, she simmered. Wishing to have never come here, to have never met you.

“Mizu,” Taigen calls out for her. “You brought watercolors, right?”

“Mhm. The paints and brushes.” Mizu nods.

“Ah, on second thought…” He scratches his chin. “Go get the oils instead.”

Looking at the path behind her, she exhales. Ungracefully dropping half the supplies on the ground, she runs off back to the estate. You were going to be alone with him. Were you okay with that? Yesterday, you had tried to writhe out of his touch, but was that just you being coy? She’s panting, sprinting across the house’s perfected grass yard, not caring about the walkway of stepping stones. It’s the fastest she’s ever run in her fucking life, she thinks, taking the stairs two at a time. Finally in the room you usually have your lessons in, she hurriedly gathers up all the oil paints and brushes. She nearly trips going back down the stairs, dropping the case of them.

“Shit!” She shrieks, not bothering to neatly place them back in their container.

Heading back down the trail, she’s calling out for The Count. There’s a moment of relief when she spots the bright color of the kimono you’d chosen to wear that day, before her world stops. Those cracks that lurk within her– they shatter, rending her to pieces.

You’re perched in his lap, mouths locked together in a passionate kiss. His hands creep up the parted length of your kimono, brushing against your bare calf and up to the backs of your thighs. Further. Frantically, your hands paw at his shoulder blades, nails digging into the fabric of his well-kept suit, wrinkling it. Even from a distance, she can hear your sighs of pleasure, she can hear your lips part to let his tongue enter your mouth. She can hear the rustling, the crotch of his pants rolling against the front of your kimono.

“Miss?” Mizu asks, breath hitched.

You’re in shock when you hear her, pulling yourself out of The Count’s hold and standing up. Your hair, mussed-up by his hands, flutters behind you in the breeze. To her, you’d look beautiful, if it weren’t for your lips stained by another man's kiss, if it weren’t for Taigen sitting under you. He doesn’t even fucking look guilty. Not even meeting her eyes, either. If looks could kill, Taigen would’ve been six feet underground yesterday. And you? You look like a kicked puppy, big, apologetic, wet eyes pleading with her. It almost works, before she scoffs, turning heel. This was all one big mistake. One after the other. Agreeing to Taigen’s plan, meeting you, enjoying your time together. It was nothing, she tried to reason with herself. You were a brat. Rich, spoiled, and maybe you deserved what was coming your way.

Nightfall does little to assuage her animosity. There’s a blackout tonight, but she didn’t care. Her eyes burnt holes into the sliding screen that led to your room, right across from her bedroll. She hated it. Hated you. She couldn’t wait until Taigen threw you away. She’d get her fair share of the money, travel to some distant part of the world. Gorge herself on all the food she could never afford, saturate her home with shiny gems and extravagant clothes. You, her Lady, would never cross her mind again. Not your face, not your body, nothing. She had her whole life ahead of her, a life devoid of you. She hisses, blinking back the suffocating heat she feels behind her eyes. The rest of her time here, she’d ignore you. She’ll keep faking sick to Madame Kaji, or ask Ise to fill in for her, or something. Anything to stay away from you.

How could she look at you again? You, fully ripe. You, who once called her pretty. You, who she once briefly thought she could protect. But she can’t save you from your own foolishness, so what can she do besides continue to lead you towards that guillotine? Your heart will split in two, and she and Taigen are destined to feast upon the scraps.

The bell outside your door rings.

She knows you need her.

It’s connected to a string next to your bed that you can pull, requesting her presence. It’s loud enough to wake her up if she’s ever asleep.

She knows you need her.

She rolls over in her bed, forcibly closing her eyes.

“Miss…?” She questions, but it’s not interrogative.

“I’m fine. Please go.” You tear yourself away from her eyes, finding you shrink under her authority despite her rank below you.

“You should-”

“Mizu, I’ve asked you to leave. Please.”

The disgruntled exhale from her nose is audible. She doesn’t speak another word to you before closing the bathroom door behind her, leaving you alone.

In the morning, when Mizu goes with all the other servant girls for breakfast, she finds one of them sniffling. Ise, she thinks, is the girl’s name. When Ise sees her, she skitters over, holding out Mizu’s missing shoe. You must have said something, either to Madame Kaji or the girl herself. Mizu scoffs and takes it back ungraciously. It’s no matter to her anymore, as she sits with her breakfast and listens to the chatter.

When whispers of The Count’s name pass through again, she almost snorts. He had been delayed yesterday, by something or other– she knew it probably had to do with the plan the two of them had. Something about making you wait, growing your anticipation. Some flirting tactic she had no interest in hearing about, especially not from Taigen. She’d never heard of any successful romances on his part, so she doubted he could know all that much about genuinely seducing a woman. Besides, your sheltered lifestyle meant you’d likely give your heart up in seconds once he threw some compliments and risque touches your way. Part of her was thrilled he’d finally be on his way here to get the plan truly in motion. With her bowls empty, she’s speeding to your room.

“Miss!” She calls for you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the incident last night. You hadn’t requested her presence at your bedside, choosing to derobe yourself.

But still, you smile when you hear her.

“Hello, Mizu.” You greet her, chin resting in your palm.

She stares at you like you’re mad. “Get up then, we’ve got to get you ready for the day. A bath, first.” Her hands take hold of your arms, guiding you into the bathroom.

With curtains drawn, the sunlight is dim, soaking the room in a gentle warmth. You watch as Mizu effortlessly prepares your tub, checking the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she gestures to you and your clothes.

“I’ll undress myself, thank you.” You mutter.

It’s been a few days of having Mizu as your new handmaiden, yet you insisted on taking care of clothing yourself. Despite it being a duty expected of her, she was nothing but respectful of your wishes. She tries to not stare as she hears the thudding of your elegant fabrics hitting the floor. Obviously, she’d have to bathe you, so she’d see everything. But it was just this once. You’d be swept up by The Count, then off to whatever madhouse would take you, and then…

“The Count is coming today.” She tells you, breaking herself out of whatever impending thought she had.

“That’s why you’ve set all this up.” You state, finally bare.

And then you’re dipping yourself into the water, carefully minding the table of soaps and oils Mizu had rolled over. Immersing yourself from the neck under, you bob back up to sit comfortably.

“Here,” Mizu mumbles, handing you a candy. “Back home, my aunts used to give candy to the babies they’d bathe.”

“So you’re treating me like a baby?” You chuckle, unwrapping the candy and savoring the sweetness of it.

“You’re like one, aren’t you? It’s as if you’re my baby.” She laughs– your heart stutters– scattering an assortment of floral petals into the bathwater.

Overkill, you’re sure, but it endears you. Your eyes follow her, her actions; she’s so dutiful in her work. A hush falls over the two of you. Mizu is concentrated, though when she sees your face fall, she stops. You’re pawing at the side of your jaw, letting out a broken groan of pain.

“Is something wrong?”

“I have a sharp tooth,” You whine. “When I eat… it cuts me.”

She hums in response, tilting your chin up with a hand. With her other, she drags a finger along the row of your teeth. When she comes across the pointed one, she hisses and steps back. At the table of objects next to her, she shuffles through, diligently searching for something.

“I remember,” You hear her call out. “One time, a relative used a thimble to grind down the sharp tooth of her son.”

Your teary eyes follow her as she hurries back to your side.

“Say ‘ah.’” She tells you, opening her mouth for you to mimic.

There’s a jolt in her at how comfortably you obey, how your lips part, how your mouth welcomes the intrusion.

Cradling your neck in her left hand, the thimble on her right thumb scrapes across your tooth. It’s a foreign feeling, one that brings along discomfort with it. You try your best to focus on the remnants of sugar on your tongue, the heat of your bathwater; but what helps the most is holding onto Mizu’s elbow. Her sleeve rolled up, you run your fingers back and forth as she continues her ministrations.

She suppresses a shiver at your touch– she can feel your knuckles tense when there’s a particularly uncomfortable drag of the thimble, she can feel the slight bite of pain as your nails sink into her skin. Even with the way her skin blooms red from your actions, you handle her with more nicety than she’d experienced before. Her eyes never stray far from your mouth, but…

But she follows the droplets that run down the bare flesh of your chest, meeting the water once more. It would be easy to let her left hand trail down, down your wet skin from pulse point to collarbone to the softness of your breasts that peek out just over the surface.

That fragile, delicate softness.

“All done.” She pulls her thumb from your mouth, mindful to not let the thimble hurt you on its exit.

You’re staring at her, eyes never leaving her own. You must’ve seen them lower and lower until no longer appropriate. She could sense the rush of heat to the tips of her ears. Depositing the thimble into the front pocket of her apron, she sits with her back to the tub.

“Go ahead and finish washing.” Her voice is husky, mouth dry.

She tries to not think about quenching her thirst with the water clinging to your body.

Palpable silence stays in the room until you’re clothed once more.

Mizu stands in the far corner, squinting as Taigen– playing as The Count, of course– greets you. The two of you had spent what felt like an agonizing amount of time going over your hair, makeup, and dress.

“Ah, you didn’t have to get all done up to see me.” He grins, laying the sleaze on thick.

A shy expression befalls you; the hint of a flirtatious smile.

“Your painting lessons, I promise they’ll be exhilarating for you,” Taigen winks, though he catches sight of Mizu in the mirror behind you. Turning, he opens his arms wide in a friendly gesture. “This must be your handmaiden! The one I so honorably recommended.”

Mizu wonders how the fuck he can go on and on without giving anyone else a chance to speak. Or have you been stunned into silence? Did you really think of him that highly already? “Yes, at your service.” She takes a shallow bow.

“Are you carrying out your duties well?” Taigen asks, stepping over to her. “It’ll make me look bad if you aren’t.”

“You picked perfectly for me.” You chime in behind him.

“So I did a good job,” That smarmy upturn of his lips is back again as he flicks a coin towards Mizu. “Take this, and keep taking good care of our Lady.”

She can barely contain her complaint, holding back a disgusted ‘ugh’ as he walks out of the room. You’re still over in your corner, looking demure. If Taigen were still in the room, he’d slap Mizu on the head and tell her to strike. So, she does.

“The Count sure is nice, isn’t he?” She plays up an exaggerated smile, fussing at your clothes to busy her hands.

You give a shrug in return, already heading back to your room before she can analyze your reaction and pinpoint your exact feelings for The Count.

Mizu’s breath runs ragged as she hurries to the guest room Taigen resides in. One of the other servant girls had fetched for her, claiming he needed Mizu for an errand. She knew that meant he had something important to tell her, though part of her felt remorse at having to leave your side. A loneliness swam in your eyes, that pout of yours betraying your usually stoic, posh demeanor. Your lips haunt her mind as she travels; the docile way they had parted upon request, or was it moreso a command? Did you care to discern the difference? Though, she supposes, someone like you deserves…

Taigen’s door slides open with an urgency that knocks the wind out of her. It nearly bounces back closed, before his hand stops it. Grabbing at Mizu’s sleeve, he tugs her into the room and shuts the door eagerly. She can’t even focus in time for Taigen to start hushedly whooping, arms waving in the air.

“Easy, idiot,” Mizu puffs, flipping that coin he’d given her back in his direction. “Did you really think you could fool me with that shit fake?”

To you, she’s been your handmaiden that does her duties to whatever standard you deem suitable to hold her to. If you said jump, she’d say how high. But Taigen knows better. He knows when someone tells her to jump, she asks how much.

And he knew that very well when he recruited her.

In that last month before Mizu came to be by your side, she was approached by the son of a local farmer. Taigen. The two lived in a poor, weary village. Little luxuries were afforded to them. It only made sense that in an unseen corner, thievery would thrive here. In that small hut on the outskirts of her home, Mizu would learn everything– pick-pocketing, forgery– and would grow to excel at it.

It’s why, when Taigen shows up in a suit far outside his price range, he’s quick to pick her out of the rest. He’s boasting of how grand a plan this is. How you have millions, and that your current fiance was looking for the same thing he was: getting their hands on that fortune. Taigen’s the one to claim he can snatch you right under that old man’s nose. Mizu almost retorts with a ‘what do you know about love?’ but she holds her tongue.

“After the job is done, you can get all of the mistress’ dresses and jewelry. Everyone here will get a share of fifty thousand.” There’s gasps as he finishes speaking. To them, fifty thousand is more money than they’d all seen in their lifetime, combined.

Mizu nods with a hand on her chin, tapping her foot. “On top of the fifty, I want my own hundred thousand. That’s my price.”

Taigen agrees effortlessly. He insists that Mizu go through the next few days ‘training’ with him. She had never been a maid of any sort before, born into criminality, so she needed at least some preparation. Otherwise this plan would be doomed from the start. For starters, he spends way too long teaching her how to make herself blush. Calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ who would succumb to the inferiority complex of a poor handmaiden. He makes sure she knows to not let you think; no questions, take care of everything in a matter-of-fact way. Honestly, Mizu cares little for whatever Taigen lectures her on. He’s just like her– a poor criminal looking for a way out. She knows she’s intelligent, and she knows how to use people to her advantage. Taigen, on the other hand, is rarely ever self-aware of the drivel that comes out of his mouth.

At some point, the time passes and Mizu’s faced with her last night in the village. She sits on her knees behind the old woman who’s been taking care of her her whole life. Mizu knows it's thanks to her that she's still here. Not quite a mother, but close enough, after losing her own. Something somber settles in the room, Mizu exhaling a sigh.

“When my mother was hanged,” She starts, combing through the elder’s hair. “Did she cry?”

“Mizu,” Her voice has become frail in the past years, age beginning to get to her. “After your mother had you, she told how she was the luckiest woman. She had no reason to cry, not even when faced with her death. You take after her so much… what a thief you’ll be, one day.”

Taigen snaps a few times, taking Mizu out of her memory. “Look, when I give the signal… ‘fully ripe’, make sure that she and I are alone.”

Mizu raises an eyebrow. “She’s very sheltered, Taigen,” she strolls over to the large bed he’s been provided, flopping backwards onto it. “You could touch her intimately and she still won’t know what you want.”

“Well, do your part then. Everything is because of me.” Taigen states. “Like… her nails growing longer because I’m here. Things like that, she won’t know any better.”

Mizu’s mind drifts. Hand stuck down the front pocket of her apron, she finds herself fiddling with the thimble she left there. You and Taigen, alone… He said he wanted to devour you. She remembers now. Someone like you, she remembers, deserves the touch of someone tender. The Count has teeth, claws given to him as the birthright of being a man in this world. A dark cloud simmered in her at his signal. ‘Fully ripe,’ as if you’re something to be eaten, the only fragment left being an empty pit. No, she had seen you– had seen the flush of your skin, the supple ways your body curved. You were meant for more. You were meant to be given to, not taken from.

But she couldn’t. She had to feed you to an insatiable man. From her palm to the white blades of his teeth, she’d comply. No victimless crimes truly exist, she reasoned. If she had to take advantage of yet another person to get to her goal, what did it matter? She repeats it to herself a few times, a mantra to clear her mind: It has to be done.

“Give her these,” Taigen hands a box to Mizu. “From me, of course.”

Gracefully, you pull the golden rope away from the box, admiring the floral pattern atop it. When you open it, revealing the earrings inside, your face lights up.

Taking one of them, you hold it up to your ear and look in the mirror. “Mizu, these sapphires are so blue!”

Mizu nods, watching your reflection. ‘They suit you’ almost tumbles off her lips. It’ll do her good to remember those will be hers as soon as Taigen gets rid of you.

“They remind me of your eyes, don’t they?” You grin. “Just as pretty, too.”

“Actually, it’s blue spinel.” Mizu mutters, ignoring your previous comment.

“What?” You’re frowning.

“But that’s just as expensive as sapphires.” She’s sputtering and correcting herself, catching her slip up.

“How do you know that?” You’re questioning her, eyes squinted.

“My old mistress taught me. That’s all.” Mizu gulps, rarely ever nervous, but she can’t mess up this far into the scheme.

You nod, unrolling the piece of paper The Count had included in his gift. Mizu exhales, glad you’ve moved your mind onto something else. She lets her eyes scan you as you read, thinking back to what you said. They remind me of your eyes. Just as pretty, too. It’s not hard for her to remember all the times she’d been looked at in fear, cursed at, beaten. All the children of the village who had thrown rocks at her, chased after her. Why were you so different? What gave you the right? The boiling heat of anger starts to crawl under her skin. She has no reason to trust you; at the end of the day, once you learn you’ve been betrayed, you’d take those comments back in an instant. You’d call her ugly. A demon. She knows this. She’ll lock the sound of your voice in the far reaches of her mind and she’ll never think of you again, only ever your money. It has to be done.

So why can’t she stop looking at you? Has she ever seen anything so lovely?

There’s a dinner tonight. You, your ‘husband’, and The Count.

Mizu is sure to pull out one of your fanciest dresses for the night, telling you The Count will love it. You look shy again, putting your cheek in your palm as you coyly smile. A hint of disgust brews in her at your awe of him. But when she follows behind you, down the steps to the dining room, she can’t help but let her eyes roll over your figure. Your hair is up. Would you squirm if she pressed her lips there, on your neck? Even down to where your dress dips, exposing your shoulder blades? Between them, as she pushed your sleeves past your arms? And what if The Count did the same? He’s trashy, unable to hold something so vulnerable in his hands with any grace. It wouldn’t happen. At least, not while Mizu was in the room. If she left you alone with him… would you?

She cares so much because you’re a poor, poor girl, is what she decides. Really, she just feels bad at how badly your heart is going to break when you realize The Count doesn’t love you in return. Anything else is simple curiosity– a destitute criminal pondering on the lifestyle of someone so privileged.

A chair clashes to the floor as soon as Mizu holds the door open for you. Taigen’s standing up, mouth open like a fish out of water.

“You’re incredible!” He yells, gaping shamelessly. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

Mizu’s fist clenches, nearly drawing blood with her nails.

He’s so full of shit.

Your voice is torn between muttering and full-blown shrieking– crying for your mother. Your mother, who, as far as Mizu knew, was long gone. Once she reaches your bed, she’s out of breath and already has her arms at, what she assumes is, your shoulders to hold you in place. Buried under your blanket and absolutely thrashing around, Mizu can barely get a word out to calm you down. Eventually, she can tell you’ve become more conscious when you start calling out for the name of your old handmaiden.

“No, no, I’m the new one,” Mizu hushes you, your wild movements slowly ceasing. “You had a bad dream, go back to sleep.” Her tone is rough, hoping you’re through the worst of it.

Finally, you take hold of the blanket, easing the hem of it down to your midsection. Mizu, for a moment, gulps as you’re revealed to her. In the glint of the moonlight, your eyes were almost crystalline. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, complexion ruddy with grief. Her eyes trail down to your lips, trembling. Grasped tightly in your arms was a doll. You looked… fragile. Fragile in an all too familiar way. Fragile in the way that she knew she once was too– a child, having a bad dream, calling for their mother. No mother would come for either of you.

She watches you raise your arm, finger pointing out into the gardens your room faces. “Do you see the cherry tree? My aunt… she passed. There’s nights where I see her out there.” Your rasping barely breaks through the quiet, hoarse and shaky.

Mizu’s attention is turned towards the large window, squinting out of it. Watching you from the corner of her eye, she can’t shake the thought of how eerie you are. Neither Taigen nor Madame Kaji had even hinted at the notion of you seeing ghosts to her. She wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but she felt the weight of her responsibility for you become heavier. Melancholy like yours was easy to sense, deeply buried as it may be. This job was going to be the end of her. She sighed, hoping to turn around and find you peacefully sleeping.

“For fuck’s sake!” Mizu grits her teeth, finding you not even in the room at all once she turns back.

She’s quick to chase after you, finding you huddled in a swathe of your own blankets at the top of the stairs. You’re sniffling into them, knees pressed tightly to your chest. When you peer up at her, a zing of guilt courses up her spine. Maybe you didn’t just look fragile.

“Come to your senses yet?” She asks, tilting her head with her arms crossed. Reaching a foot out, she nudges at your legs.

You give her a sluggish nod in response, having exerted all your energy. Between the scrambling in bed and the mad dashing to the staircase, you felt well and truly exhausted. Part of you felt remorse; for looking at Mizu, even in the dim light, you could see the weariness under her eyes. In the gauntness of her cheekbones, too. Despite feeling despair holding you down, you reach your arms out, gesturing for her help. Mizu drags a hand over her face, grumbling. Squatting down, she’s somehow able to enclose her arms around the mass of blankets covering you, lifting you easily. It barely takes her any time to lug you back into bed.

Her awkward nature is obvious as she stands once more at your side. “Okay, well… goodnight?”

Sitting up, you don’t hesitate to take Mizu’s sleeve into your hand and pull. In response, she tugs herself away from you, scoffing.

“Don’t grab me like that,” Mizu seethes. “Ever. Just call for me.”

Your mouth runs dry. Whether that’s due to the harshness of her tone or the fact you upset her, you aren’t entirely sure. “I apologize… Could you stay with me until I fall asleep again?”

Her face scrunches. “Don’t you have a husband? Call him in here.”

You squirm, clearly uncomfortable. “We aren’t actually married yet. Calling each other husband and wife… it’s for appearances,” Your head lolls back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. That doll you had– it’s returned to its position of being clutched tightly in your arms. “Men like him are only gentle with women when others are watching.”

Mizu’s chest heaves, a strong exhale leaving her as she contemplates her next move. “Fine, just for tonight.”

Your eyes light up almost instantaneously. The sight makes her swallow, stiffly. Had… anyone ever looked at her like that? Those sparks of joy, finally overtaking that shadowy gloom in your irises; it captivated her. Briefly, at least.

“Ugh,” she shook her head, taking little care to climb into the spot next to you. “Look, if I’m staying here until you fall asleep, you’re facing the other way.”

“Your eyes are blue. I couldn’t see them that well before.”

“Yes, they are. Just another good reason for you to turn around, right?” she sneers. “Or better yet, go ahead and fire me.”

You frown, holding her gaze. “I wouldn’t fire you for something like that,” you’re mumbling as you bring a hand up to her cheek, caressing it with the back of your knuckle. “For what it’s worth, I think they’re beautiful. Someone would’ve been very happy to have you as a wife someday, I’m sure.”

Mizu snorts at that, carefully edging her face away from your touch. “I’ll pass, but… thanks. Even if it’s empty flattery.”

She can see your lips form into a pout. “It’s not!”

You’re playful, all of a sudden. She figures that this is it. Your loneliness bubbling to the surface. An undrownable creature made of desires and aches. Mizu knew your old handmaidens were mostly a lot older than you– elderly women vastly more experienced than the other youthful servant girls. It’s been very, very long since you’ve had a friend, if you’ve ever had one to begin with. It was only slightly unfortunate to her that she’d have to be the one to prey upon your vulnerabilities.

“Do brats like you whine all the time?” She huffs, taking your arms within her hands and turning you around herself. “You must be worn out by now, so go to bed. I’ll… be here.”

You chuckle at her, the grimace she must be sporting is obvious even though you’re not looking anymore. You can’t help but think that your mattress felt a bit softer tonight.

It was a long few minutes that passed by, Mizu’s eyes trained on the motions of your breathing. When your body rose, fell. The slight shivers that would run through you when your blanket slipped lower than wanted. Clearing her throat, she eased herself off of your bed. With her first night as your handmaiden over, she questioned just how sane she’d be after the end of all this. At least she’d be rich, she supposed, slipping back into her bedroll with a smirk.

Mizu awoke to a bleary morning and the sound of Madame Kaji’s grating nags in her ear. Something about even the handmaiden eating in the servant’s quarters– she didn’t care all that much, barely half conscious to hear it. It took her a few groggy minutes to make her way outside and get her hands on a bowl of rice and some sort of… porridge, she assumed.

The hall was filled with the gossip of the other young girls serving here. Together they squealed about The Count; he was due to make an appearance today. Supposedly they saw a light ghosting through the hallway, speculating it was him meeting you in your bedroom. She almost laughed at that, knowing the reality is that it was her going after you during your nightmare. Fiddling with her chopsticks, she felt little appetite knowing Taigen would be here today. Everything in this plan had to go perfectly, there was no room for her to be suspicious or lack confidence in her abilities. Perhaps the seemingly endless downpour of rain was also putting a damper on her? Taking only a few more bites, she pushed her bowls away from her. Padding over to where she left her shoes, she felt a bristle of anger. One of her shoes was gone, with a crowd of other servant girls giggling. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for them, Madame Kaji was approaching her with a parasol held over her head.

“Is that how you intend on going to meet with the Lady?” Her eyebrow raises, gesturing to Mizu’s feet.

“I didn’t exactly plan on having my shoe taken.” Mizu fumes.

Madame Kaji sighs, massaging her temple. “Ah… Very well.”

A sense of unease settled in Mizu’s chest. This would be her first official meeting with you. It’d be up to you whether you’d take her on as handmaiden or not… and it was looking grim for her, right now. As if she isn’t on enough people’s hit list, she’d have to go and be added to Taigen’s for screwing up. She follows closely behind Madame Kaji as she leads her to your room, trying her best to ignore the sogginess of her footwear. It takes everything in her to not grumble with every step, keeping up a polite disposition. Even if you were willing to put up with her irritable nature, Madame Kaji certainly wasn’t.

Before long, she stood in front of you in a deep bow, hands folded at her waist.

“This is Mizu.” Madame Kaji spoke.

You felt a prickle of heat trail up your neck, a twinge of embarrassment at realizing that through the entire night, you hadn’t asked for her name once.

“I’m at your service, my Lady.” She straightens herself out, eyes now set on you.

You’re much more put together today. That hair of yours is pinned up neatly, off your shoulders. And your eyes, today, aren’t sullied by the red tint of sorrow. Your choice of dress guides the eyes– from nose to lips to neck to the faint hint of exposed collarbones. Delicate; the word that comes to mind when Mizu collects her thoughts. Madame Kaji leaves a less than pleasant swat on her back.

“Right, a letter from my last mistress.” Mizu stands before you, holding out the paper.

You don’t open it yet, instead choosing to focus your sight on Mizu. “Did you enjoy your first night here? It’s rare for the sun to come out. My husband prefers it that way, otherwise his extensive library would be at risk. To take joy in a place like this… it’s difficult, no?”

Mizu’s eyesight flickers between you and Madame Kaji, wondering how to answer. “I don’t mind it.”

“Hm,” You hum inquisitively. “You don’t have to lie when I question you. I want your honesty. Do you have parents?”

“What?” Mizu asks, somewhere between anger and surprise.

“I’ll be going now.” Madame Kaji shakes her head, sighing.

“I don’t have any either, so don’t feel bad. I had my aunt and Madame Kaji, so how much can the love of a mother really be worth?” For a second, she hears the twist of something bitter in you. You look back down at the letter Mizu handed you. “Read this to me, if you will.”

“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?” She grunts, taking the parchment out of your hands.

“It’s only because my head hurts before every reading session with my husband. Though your honesty is refreshing.” You’re grinning, unused to someone like her. Your previous handmaidens were at your beck and call– annoyingly so.

It’s odd, but in her mind she’s quick to consider you… charming. You’ve been spoon-fed and privileged your whole life, yet here you are conversing with her without taking any offense. Delight has always been scarce for her; still, she reminds herself whatever she feels now will and must be short lived.

“Dear Lady of the House… The Count said you needed a new maid…” Mizu starts, reading off the neat handwriting which she knows is Taigen’s, but you're oblivious to.

“Ah, enough,” You wave a hand at her, taking the letter back. “You’ll be my handmaid. I know Madame Kaji forbids it, but I don’t particularly care if you curse or steal. It’s my word that decides whether you stay or not.”

“You speak like you have a condition for my staying?” Mizu questions.

“I do. Don’t ever lie to me.” You smile, though your words are cold. It’s a chilling ultimatum that rings in the back of her mind for a while.

She freezes as you put her hands on her– resting them on the outside of her arms, slowly trailing to her wrists. There’s a second where she can pinpoint the exact change in your expression. Where it morphs from man-eating to genuine. She thinks that through all the rain, the sun might be shining a little brighter through the gray now.

“And, another question,” You’re scanning her appearance, zeroing in on the frames sitting on her nose. “Did Madame Kaji ask you to wear those- your glasses?”

“Yes, for my eyes.” She mumbles, finding the topic easily aggravating her.

“You don’t have to wear them if you'd rather not, and…” A finger of yours comes up, untucking a curl of her locks from their neat place. “You can wear your hair like this. It’s how you had it last night, too. You seemed more comfortable.”

Since when has anyone like you ever cared about the comfort of someone below you? She opens her mouth to speak, maybe even say some sort of gratitude, but you’re already flitting away from her. You’re eager, waving her to and fro every corner of your room. Trinkets on display are taken out of their designated place and into her palms, each one connected to a story. You talk.

You talk, and that loneliness once again bubbles, showing it’s soft underbelly to the skies.

“This is my mother.” You open up a locket to reveal an old photo.

To Mizu, the two of you have an uncanny resemblance. It’s almost bizarre, the way each of you is the picture of a man’s ideal wife. Again, the word delicate springs to mind. “She’s stunning.”

You tilt your head, eyes squinting. “And me? My husband says I don’t compare to my mother.” You turn, mimicking your mother’s pose. There’s nerves in your tone, a shadow looming over you as you wait in suspense for her answer.

Fuck. Your own despair would betray you. You’ve unknowingly gotten yourself ensnared in the perfect moment to sink her teeth into you. Your softness would be met only with blades. With her as his wing-woman, you’d be eating out of Taigen’s hand in no time.

Her stare lingers on you. “The Count says–”

“You’ve met him?”

“What?” She stutters, blinking rapidly. “I mean, my… aunt met him. She used to nanny him, so I’ve just heard things from her.”

“So, what did he say about me then?” Your eyes hold an expression of curiosity, maybe even a tinge of hope.

“He lays awake at night thinking of you. In bed.” She tacks on the last part of her sentence as an extra measure.

There’s a brief flash of a smirk upon your face before you speak. “In bed…” You trail off, gaze landing on her one shoeless foot. “And what happened there?”

When she recalls the events to you of her losing her shoe, you click your tongue, sighing. You reach out a hand to take her by the arm, but remember her warning about never grabbing her. Instead, she herself holds out her arm for you, rolling her eyes. Guiding her over to a large closet, you open the two doors, displaying your wide collection of shoes.

“Take a pair, please.” You indicate which ones would fit her. “It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere, so someone should get some use out of them.”

Mizu, uncertain, takes the plainest pair out of the ones you’ve shown her. They’re simple and black, seemingly comfortable enough to do her handmaiden work in.

You seem to be happy with her choice, the way your lips upturn. “You didn’t want any of the flashy expensive pairs?”

She shakes her head, shrugging. “Not my style.”

“Hm,” You look out the window, then shift your gaze to the room’s clock. “I have to go for my husband’s reading. You can stay put, I’ll go alone.”

“It’s pouring out there.” Mizu says, as if you can’t see the state of the weather.

“Come get me at noon, okay?” There’s that smile of yours again– do you have to smile so much?

The door is closed behind you before Mizu gets any sort of goodbye out. Adjusting her glasses, she snorted as her eyes landed on the clock you were looking at before. You’re rich, of course you have the latest inventions at your disposal. It was a handcrafted Western clock made of brass. She wondered who had gifted it to you, were they too trying to get in your good graces? Seduce you? She’s not sure if it mattered, since she– The Count, she corrects herself– would be the one to succeed. Letting out a moan of boredom, she decides to pass her time by looking through your belongings.

The overindulgence of wealth nearly sickens her. Your extravagant kimono collection, sorted by color, the best season to wear them, what obi pairs well with them. She thought that was nauseating until she plucked through the cases of jewelry. Gold, silver, every gem you could imagine existed right here in front of her very eyes. It’s not impossible for her to picture you bathed in their opulence, as the kind of woman that such a fortune suits. Would you ask her to put your earrings on for you? Moreover, would she be tame, tender? Snapping the jewelry box shut, she checks your foreign clock once more.

Noon. With clouds still darkening the sky, she grabbed one of your umbrellas, heading out the door to follow the path you had taken to your husband’s library. Stepping carefully to avoid scuffing her shoes– or, your shoes– in case you’d ask for them back. There was a thin layer of trust she was willing to grant you, but she of all people knew how quickly one could turn. When she makes it to the door of the library, she sits at the entrance.

You’re kneeled on the floor, your husband sitting at the table. He shoots you a questioning glare once his eyes land on Mizu.

“This is my new handmaiden, Mizu.” You’re talking to him, but your eyes stay on the floor, hands neatly in your lap.

Mizu goes to walk inside, before your husband shouts, pointing at a golden snake decoration. It gives her a shock, stepping backwards. She sees you pull a lever in the corner of the room, bringing down a grated gate.

“You may not cross that barrier!” He sounds fucking deranged, Mizu notes. She also makes the observation of his black tongue. Ink?

Trying to peer through the gaps of the metal, she searches for you. At the lever she saw before, you’re rooted in place. Trembling, in the face of an unhinged man you were forced to call ‘husband’, you looked scared. Fragile. Delicate.

Mizu wondered just how long she could pretend to be picking up the pieces of you until she would have to let them fall and shatter– to dust, to infinitesimal shards no one could see anymore.

Women like you are all too easily captivated by men like Taigen, she posits. You’ve already been married off to a wealthy man– one much too old for you, having lived on his property since a young age. From what she’s heard, you’ve barely ever set a foot outside those walls. That loneliness? A weak point, perfect to deliver a final blow to. Taigen was closer to your age, attractive, and could at least pretend to have some sort of importance. Mizu would act as something of a cupid. Set you on the right path, to a man with a good heart… she doubted it’d take even a week to get you to crumble in his arms, if your current husband’s behavior was anything to go by.

It takes a long journey to make it to your residence. Buried away in pitch black depths of forested land, the sense of isolation is cold. That chill sits in Mizu’s chest, keeping her on guard. A few soldiers halt her and her guide. Eyes peer in, leering and skeptical. With a few words from the coachman, they’re easily cleared and sent inside. She finds some unnecessary task to busy herself with, easing her nerves; counting the bumps in the dirt path until the horses reach the front door.

Thirty-seven. There’s thirty-seven uneven jostles of the cart before Mizu steps out, greeted by an older woman holding a lantern. Taigen had briefly informed her of the elder. She, Madame Kaji, was the most established housekeeper on the property. She took in all of the maid girls, training them and making them properly useful. A warning echoed in his statement of her: “She’s strict. Do not fuck up around her, or you’ll be scraps for wild animals to feast on and our whole operation goes up in flames.”

As if she would really believe that.

She wouldn’t.

Until the woman walked on ahead, maneuvering through the home with ease. As if she’d escorted thousands of to-be handmaidens through here. Mizu grunted, taking a few large jogs in order to catch up with the madam. This place was already testing her patience, her disinterest palpable.

“I’m surprised that your recommendation from The Count was taken so seriously, considering your apparent… circumstances of birth. Though he assured me your experience far outweighs any problems that may arise from such a condition,” Madame Kaji looked at Mizu only from the corner of her eye, unwilling to look directly. “The Lord’s main house is made up of two wings which you will familiarize yourself with. Then, the library. There’s also the servant’s quarters, but you won’t be using those as the Lady’s handmaiden.”

Mizu follows, lugging her belongings behind her wearily. Travel had been long, her body ached from sitting in that cramped carriage cabin, and now she had to listen to this borderline hag rattle off rules to her. All she has to do is be polite and meet your way too high standards, right? Who cares who the tea leaves go to, what soap must be left over? It was all meaningless etiquette so that when the poor somehow didn’t play by these rich rules, you could sneer and laugh in their faces. Mizu wanted nothing more than to climb into her new bed and sleep. Sleep until maybe she didn’t regret this decision any more.

Though, her regrets start to dwindle as she’s led through the grand hallways. Entire staircases bigger than any room she’s ever been in, exquisite paintings lining every empty inch of wall space they could, and various ancient relics on display made her shudder. The opulence of it all was astounding. Her whole bloodline– past, present, and future– would never see the amount of riches that you and your husband bask in. Honestly, if she weren’t trying to stay in the good graces of Madame Kaji, she’d let out a snort at how overdone the decor is.

She’s taken through a few more sliding doors, more Japanese style than Western, until Kaji stops in her tracks. Nodding her head to the left, she points Mizu in the direction of your door.

“This is where the Lady sleeps, and this,” she directs Mizu’s attention to the small chamber across from your doors. “is where you’ll be sleeping. The Lady often has nightmares, which you will attend to her during. It’s best to keep you close.”

Mizu nods, opening the door of the compartment. She can feel her eye twitch. It’s barely more than a glorified cabinet. The space contains only a wooden slab with a bedroll and pillow on it. There’s space under for her to put her shoes and luggage, but little else. Before she knows it, Madame Kaji has left her behind, apparently satisfied with that being the end of her tour. Mizu’s head lands against the door of her ‘room’ with a thump. She makes quick work of her shoes, shuffling them under the bed, along with the rest of her things.

It’s strange, though. She finds herself unable to lay, rather, turning herself around to face your quarters. Her hands tremble, shakily trying to pry your door open just a tad. She closes one eye, doing her best to peer in.

Moonlight streams in through your large windows, illuminating you in a heavenly glow. She can’t quite see your face from where she stands, but she can make out your figure underneath white sheets. She takes another moment to watch. Her breath practically wracks through her body, as if it’s dawning on her, her sudden proximity to you. Never had she been in the presence of someone so… unattainable, or otherworldly, almost. Somewhere in the house, a thud resounds loudly. Mizu nearly jumps out of her skin, shutting your door in an instant. Chest heaving and mouth dry, she settles herself into her compartment. Dragging her hand down her face, she tries to get her heart to relax. Taking one last glance towards you, your room, she finally flops back against the hard bedroll, agonizing over the uncomfortable nature of it. Exhaustion seeps into her muscles, eyes easily drooping shut. All she can do is hope the rest she gets tonight prepares her for the day ahead.

It won’t.

Because it isn’t long until a bloodcurdling scream rips through the house.

eventually, up ahead you can see ajax pacing back and forth. he's clearly lost in thought, tapping a finger to his chin. as you get closer, though, it's clear that he's heard you. his head snaps up at the sound of your footsteps in the snow, a grin immediately on his face.

"you came," he delights, chuckling a bit. "sorry that it's on short notice."

"of course i did." you tell him, stepping closer to him.

cradling your face in his palms, he rubs at your cheeks with his thumbs. "you're so cold," he mumbles, bringing you even closer to him. "do you want my coat?"

"no, it's okay!" you shake your head, feeling warmer already just being in ajax's presence. "what did you want to talk about?"

"ah, that…" ajax sighs, a bit of a forlorn look overcoming him. "i got an important announcement from work. i'll have to head off into liyue for a while."

"liyue?" you exclaim, shocked. "how long will you be gone?"

ajax's eyes soften, lips coming together in a line. "they weren't specific about it, unfortunately. but it's significant. i can't just not go, and i can't be late either. i'm leaving during the night."

it's as if you can feel your thoughts swirling, going much too fast for your liking. it wasn't that you needed to have him around constantly– it was just so abrupt. plus, who knows how safe his journey to liyue would be? you were well aware he was capable of handling himself in combat, but you couldn't stop yourself from worrying.

"hey," ajax's voice calls out to you, taking you out of your thoughts. he's whispering, and there's a faint hint of sadness in his eyes. "i promise i'll come back in one piece. you're not getting rid of me so easily."

you chuckle, resisting the way your lips curl into a smile. of course, you can't help but grin at his nature. "i know, i know," you sigh. "it's just… it'll be strange without you here."

"i'll write to you as much as i can. if i can…" he rubs at the back of his neck. "there's a lot of details that i can't share, but, either way. i'll find some way to keep in touch."

"you better." you teasingly scold, wagging a finger in front of his face.

with melancholy, he tenderly holds your hands in his own. his frown is prevalent. "let me walk you home?" ajax asks.

there’s something so hesitant in his tone. his thumbs nervously brush over the backs of your hands. it's as if he's worried that him leaving so suddenly would hurt you enough to make you view him differently. while you know there's nothing he should be concerned about, you know how much love ajax holds in his heart for those close to him. not just you, but his siblings too. it's always been clear that he dislikes being away from them for too long. still, he knows his job provides for them, so he does what he must. even if that means omitting certain aspects of what he really gets up to when off to work, he'd do it. anything to keep you and his family safe.

"so gentlemanly," you tell him, placing a hand on his arm to ease him. "don't worry, ajax. i'm not going anywhere. i'll be right here when you get back."

he nods, choosing to stay silent. he basically crowds his body against yours– a prevalent air of desperation in his actions. to have the knowledge that you're there, physically. real, occupying the space next to him.

at your door he presses a flurry of frantic kisses against your face, from forehead to nose to cheeks, to finally rest against your lips with a sigh. despite him being the one going off on a who knows how long journey, he tells you to be safe.

and then, as you shiver at your front step, ajax's silhouette disappears over the horizon.