I❤️Mizu

After 3 months I'm back in my hometown again and I can continue working on katana/naginata.

Firstly I reinforced connecting points with one or two layers of worbla.

Now when "functional core" of staff is ready and good working, all that left is to make it looks like naginata instead of plastic pipe with screws.

I had to decide how long the handle comparing to blade should be

So here are some useful info I collected:

The handle of katana is usually 1/3 of its length

The length of blade itself is called nagasa, and how much shaku (about 30cm) it contains determines the type of blade

Katana has typically 2 shaku, which is 60 cm so whole sword would have 90 cm, and I tried to follow these measurements

(for curious ones wakizashi has 1-2 shaku and tanto has below one shaku)

Good to know, but where exactly blade ends? On habaki or tsuba? I couldn't find this info now to confirm it but I remember I find somewhere that nagasa (blade length) ends where habaki starts, not on tsuba which surprised me a bit (look at photo below if you're not familiar with these strange names)

After taking million of screenshots I sketched how handle of katana should look and what dimensions each element should have. I had to adjust it a little because my blade is narrower than it should be, so habaki is also smaller to make smooth transition between thin blade and thicker tsuka.

This screenshot was the most useful for this part:

To make tsuka I glued pieces of polistyren to pipe and when the glue was dry and secured I carved it with tapestry knife until I reached desired shape.

Also my impatient flow arsty ass had to start learning some tricks during the process

Next step was wrapping tsuka in worbla, to make it stronger and then add leather. Oryginal tsuka of katana are made with ray skin which has very characteristics texture, full of tiny "bumps" that makes these skin really grippy, perfect for sword handle. I could buy real ray skin but I don't have a heart to put that poor ray on plastic, it'd be act of desecration. Luckily I had some fake leather with kind of similar texture.

I glued it on worbla and sew to be more secured.

And when I was done with this part I realized I'm not quite satisfied with my tsuka shape. After adding layer of worbla and skin it's cross-section became too much angular instead of oval. I predicted it'll add some thickenes so I carved tsuka smaller that I wanted it to be but I didn't predicted adding layers could change the shape.

It really bothered me for a while (ahhh my perfectionism) but this time I decided to let it go. Some imperfections aren't worth changing and accepting them are also good lesson 🙃🙃🙃

Well now its time to make tsuba, and all decorated elements so: habaki, fuchi and kashira

Soooo were going back to screenshots again, I tried to capture Mizu's sword from every frame possible, I didn't recreate patterns 1:1 (I was carving worbla with soldering tool, and its tip isn't small enough to make all these fine lines, I had to simplify it a bit) but I tried to recreate its vibe and overall composition, see for yourself

I love how perfectly reverse the colors are at this point xddd

I reinforced the tsuba with worbla, it's the most standing out element to it could be damaged the most

I think it's a good moment to tell you about some interesting fact about Mizu's katana design, and her overall character design

Because as you can see the tsuka (handle) of her sword is just ray skin (samegawa) , traditionally it's also this cord thing wrapped around (tsuka -ito). We can also see the little dents on tsuba after hammering, which gives the effects of unfinished, not perfect and made improper, not following traditional rules.

(the oryginal concept art shows even better the vibe of this katana so I'm also showing it to you ^^)

For me, it fits Mizu so well omg.

But I also see it in her clothing, the way she wore her kimomo is also against traditional rules (it should be tucked in Hakama) which makes our Mizu fashion baddie of Edo I guess xdd

The last part was to get the shape of sticks, pretty simple just long rectangles of worbla ^^

And here we are, when we have functional base, now in proper shape, only thing that left is to get out katana some colour ^^ see you in part three

vi swearing her girl is happy

Historical Lesbians

Mizu x fem!reader

->pt1 ->pt2 ->pt3 ->pt4 ->pt5 ->pt6 ->pt7 ->pt8

word count: 2500

The next morning was filled with a consuming warmth, the mixing heat sourced from two bodies practically fused your skins together, not that either party minded. If anything this still wasn’t close enough. Mizu was on her stomach, draped over you heavily, still sleeping peacefully. She was snoring slightly and you could feel a small pool of drool slowly collecting on your collar. Trying to ignore the shiver as it ran down your shoulder by admiring her naked comfort, hands threaded through the long strands of hair that covered most of her back, the rest of her exposed body was cut off with a blanket.

“You should have your hair like this more often, let that scalp breathe” Your voice cushioned her slumber, in return she offered a deep humming sound that lacked the effort to develop into words. Her hair had always been left uncut, even when you still believed her disguise as a man you thought it long, Mizu hadn’t explained why even now. You braided the dark locks idly, waiting for consciousness to wash over her. Actually, thinking back on it Mizu hadn’t really bothered taking much care in their appearance until after you’d gotten closer. You weren’t convinced at first ‘he’ even knew how. She used to go weeks without washing her clothes, then after making camp she would just disappear for about an hour, which you now know was to bathe and conceal her chest from you.

In one of the many instances Mizu had faced death, your wife was simply not strong enough to take care of herself, yet not exhausted enough to passively accept your help. Hence bathing together. After she was healed the habit simply stuck, though both of you had tried to convince the other it was purely out of necessity. Mizu could watch out for anyone who wandered too close and for you it felt like one of the only ways her efforts in providing for you could be repaid. In retrospect you knew it was a lie, to Mizu and yourself.

“I could get Ringo to find us something?” Mizu shot that thought down immediately, slipping slender hands around your sides to anchor herself to you, rasping, “don’t move.” You gasped, back arching to avoid her frozen paws, “Mizu!” The woman on top of you pouts, huffing against you softly. “Minutes, five more. Just us.”

“Just us?” Asking felt slightly redundant, with Mizu being barely awake. “I’ve missed this.” Laughing, you raised a brow, “We do this almost every night.” Not even ‘Almost’, despite not having confessed until last night this position wasn’t unfamiliar to you, the only difference was how many clothes were involved. Speaking of which, you hadn’t realised how smooth her legs were until now, though every so often you felt the uneven stretch of a scar. She appreciated your touch, closeness, in whatever form you were willing to give. “The other people.”

“You want me all to yourself? Greedy.”

You felt her smile against you.

“Something like that.”

Your wife was never one for people, possibly being one of the most paranoid individuals you’d even encountered. To be fair most men had never given you much reason to look forward to their company either, in a way this piece of her personality has rubbed off on you. But, you liked Ringo. He was a good man, a friend. He brought you food. That was an ally worth keeping close. Mizu understood this, for now she’d at least held back her efforts in abandoning the guy, accepting that he had some use.

Eyes flickered open, Mizu reached for her glasses and held herself over you, waiting like a deer in the fields for something. You too waited, admiring the shape of her arms while they blocked you in from moving, blanket forming a tent of damp air between you. Then there it was. A scream. Shrill and piercing through the paper screens. Gazes meet and minds silently question for a moment, before you can stand a hand presses you back down.

“Stay. I’ll look, just go find Ringo.”

She leaves without another word, almost forgetting to dress herself on the way out, sword hanging by her side as she fiddles with the obi. You follow soon after. The lanterns still lit the halls, though the ceiling felt lower than before, like the walls were hugging you close for protection. From what, you still weren’t sure. A rowdy customer seemed most likely, though you would hate to consider the many more sinister possibilities a man could conjure to disturb your morning.

Shoes abandoned, you are agile in padding room to room. The customers have cleared out, followed closely by the workers. Ringo was nowhere to be found. Ideally, he would have been in the room next door, only that too was empty. Your ears buzzed to fill the gaps of eerie silence, every shadow built themselves into a fresh figure to be spooked by, and yet none you recognised.

“Get off me!”

The woman gasped, outraged but noticeably scared beneath her stern command. Your arm had brushed Akemi’s back, a result of reversing into one another from opposite ends of a particularly poorly lit corridor. Hissing out a shush, you drag the princess into a small closet, knees knocking against each other. A hand pushes you back, facing some resistance from the wall behind you.

She was alone too, though you struggled to understand why she was still here. Yes, Taigen would be searching for Mizu. But, if she had any real faith in his devotion she could simply go back home to a cushy palace and wait. There was hardly any need for her to infiltrate this brothel. If she wanted, the girl could just command Mizu to stay put, or command others to restrain Mizu. Perhaps continuing to travel up the chain of command, until her own father is forced to hold down your wife.

Although, a father is a good reason to run away. That could explain why Akemi is so desperate to find a husband in Taigen, even if he is rather insignificant as a person. The girl’s father could make some good coin from marrying her off like that, not with Taigen but a prettied Lord with a flashy title. You understood. Mizu was right, Women in this world don’t have a single good option, but Akemi was no exception.

She had the illusions of choices, like everyone else.

You were about to give her some.

A warm glow washes over the bottom gap in the door, revealing the floors, followed by weighted steps. The door opens and a clawed fist takes hold of an arm, like it was grabbing a fish from a very small barrel. You had your own blade ready, pushing up and moving behind. His hands moved to his neck as he fell forward. You push to aid in his slow descent. Akemi is freed before she can scream. You silently thanked her for trying. Puffing heavily from her nose as she glared down at her hands, then felt around her face for the wetness now splattered over her face. You use a sleeve and carefully wipe the stubborn blood away, catching a few tears and half a face of make up with it.

Taking her hand, you shut the door and move, painfully unfamiliar with the layout of the building. She stumbles a few times but learns to pick up her feet, following upstairs until you take a hard left to the entrance of the main balcony. From above you could see at least fifty men, all armed like the one before, matching uniform and all.

They must be here on behalf of Boss Hamata.

“How many were inside?” You ask, eyes unable to land on a familiar face in the streets. The others must still be inside, or far away from here. “I’m not sure. A dozen, maybe more.” Akemi was more determined to live than before, that was nice.

“Do you have that knife?”

“Yes.”

Turning to the princess, her choices are offered simply. “You can either stay here and die, or come with me, or go down to the basement and die later.” Beginning your descent of the stairs she trails behind closely, hair beginning to shift loose and out of place. She didn’t seem to mind, though kept sweeping it back only for it to return to its previous place a moment later.

“Are we going to find Mizu?”

“No, the last thing he needs is to worry about hitting us while fighting, it’s better we stay separated for now and lighten the load.”

You stop unnoticed, allowing two claws to pass by. Akemi holds her breath, sighing out another question once she’d deemed it safe, “what about Ringo?” You had nothing to offer her in terms of information, only hopes you’d kept close to chest until now. “Alive, but I couldn’t find him.” He was smart when he needed to be, and the knife Mizu gave him should buy time, long enough to leave this place together. Added bonus if your wife is intact at the end of all this and agrees to let you keep the princess. If she's tired it won’t take long. Only if Akemi wanted to stay of course, the downgrade from palace to brothel to technically homeless was not a glamorous one. You would understand if she decided to stay.

“He’s down in the cellar with the women.”

“We can meet him on the way to the front”

“It’s too far.”

“It’s dangerous, but we’re safer like this. We need to grab a lot of hanazake.”

Akemi begins to guide you, managing to avoid the majority of patrolling armoured men with ease, having only encountered another two. From across the building you heard unsteady thuds, the floor was humming every time a new body dropped. Peeking around a corner, you can make out a fallen pile of soldiers, leaking onto the tatami mats. The closer you got to the main entrance, the more lanterns had been extinguished. In the reception area under the desk are two smaller barrels, taking one each as you begin to make your way upstairs.

In the darkness you almost trip over a leg.

Mizu’s leg.

She was not fully unconscious yet, bleeding and still breathing. With a nudge, the swordsman was lucid enough to say, “you’re alive.” Kneeling, you asked in return, only half kidding, “aren’t you?” Mizu doesn’t answer, eyelids feeling heavier than before. “Akemi and I are going to take these back upstairs and help with the men still outside…Mizu?” She could probably hear the uncertainty in your voice, now using her blade to hoist herself off the floor.

“I’ll be down here.”

Crouching low on the balcony and using your knife, you place the barrel on the floor and carve out a long slit in the side, going with the grain of the wood. Akemi copies, though ends up borrowing yours as hers couldn't slice deep enough. Then, standing without concern for being noticed, you throw. The alcohol gushes out, its container rotating slowly to coat as many men as possible, inevitably breaking after making contact with one of their faces. Securing at least one broken nose after this attack. The princess hands you one of the lanterns, taking off the decorative paper shade. The angry claws all begin to swarm, just as you drop the flame.

Hanazake is a highly concentrated variation of awamori, its high alcohol content means that the liquid is extremely flammable. The same goes for those covered in it. (Vodka typically only has a forty percent ABV, however hanazake has closer to sixty percent ABV). Sweels are heard from below as you watch the alight soldiers wildly roll around in the dirt, attempting to extinguish themselves. But you notice, the others do little to aid their colleges. They step back and, like yourselves, watch on. Something about the smell of burnt hair allows it to overpower everything else polluting the air, though you still have ears to listen to these men perish so terribly. Skin blistering and nerves dying, as they slowly expire into the ground.

Those who attempt to climb fall, Akemi stabs at their fingers once they curl around the banister, squashing those underneath like beetles. Only their armour isn’t so tough. What you didn’t realise was that Mizu was already outside, she was just trapped under a door, now with at least three limp men on top of it. She is dragged out, the hand that does so is soon severed. You are given a spectacle. Your wife killed at least twenty and dragged the boss out from under its rock, to serve him on a platter for Madame Kaji.

“Ringo?”

As soon as you stepped outside the doorway that once had a door attached to it you were ambushed into a very tight embrace, ears filled with words and much too many at once. “Master said to come find you, actually that was before, he is sleeping now. On the floor. I tried to get him up but Master didn’t like that. Not one bit. He’s hurt. Are you hurt?” Ringo waved his wrist over to Akemi over your shoulder, who waved back politely. You, however, were restrained with no chance of escape. Of course you could ask, the boy would let you go in an instant, but the security after this whole ordeal felt very rewarding. Allowing your brain to climb out of the dark place it had fallen into.

Mizu was exactly how you’d imagined.

On the floor, bleeding, caked in filth.

“Mizu?” Two blue eyes stared back at you. “I’m done with today.” Her throat sounded sore. You joined her on the snow covered steps, brushing some of the crusting muck from her cheeks, “tomorrow is still quite far away.” You noticed the glossy look she was giving you now, tears pooling in her lashes. She wasn’t sad, just tired for now, and sore. Exhausted. “I wanted five minutes, why can’t we have that?” It wasn’t a real question, not one for you or one you knew the answer to. “We will, another time.”

“Did you start a fire on top of me?”

“...Maybe. Did it help?”

“I think so.”

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@minisharkbitch @shadowssalvatore @brotatochip101 @milanyas

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Mizu fanart I did in May 2026!

Mizu + sword + gun

your babygirl mizu is here

and it’s… fine. The prince is great! They’re in love, he’s very sweet and passionate, writing her poems and songs, giving her anything she wants. The time she spends with her husband is great.

but cinderella is not royalty, her family was noble but she never spent time in those circles. She’s used to being busy, she’s used to cooking and cleaning and mending. There are hours, days, where she has nothing to do.

time passes. cinderella learns the fancy lady type of needlework. Learns to ride horses. Reads a lot.

as is normal for royalty at the time, they travel and are hosted by nobles or stay at castles owned by the king. But even that variety begins to become routine. The prince is distracted, there’s a lot of young women living and working on their route. Daughters of nobles. Younger and prettier with soft hands that have never done a day’s work.

cinderella needs something to spend her time on, and there’s a part of her thinking a couple-only trip might get her husband’s attention again, so she suggests making an old castle that’s fallen into disrepair their “project.” It was built in the time when castles were made to be defensible, so it’s quite sturdy, but it’s overgrown and secluded. The prince doesn’t know why his family stopped living there either. A hundred years ago it was their summer home.

so they go. And they work. And for a while it’s great! But when they leave for winter cinderella’s husband forgets her once again. cinderella resolves to make the best of her life and stop worrying about a man who has gotten what he wanted from her.

summer comes again and this time cinderella goes alone to the old castle (minus staff, of course, but cinderella manages to narrow it down to only repair workers and one maid). She can cook and clean and mend again, but this time it’s her own choice. She is happy.

this summer they make more progress on repairs. The workers say that most of it can be salvaged, except one tower that’s been completely overgrown with vines and briars. It will have to come down, eventually, but for now it can be safely ignored.

cinderella has more free time now. The old castle has a surprisingly untouched library, though time and moisture have damaged many of the books. Behind a collection of greek poetry cinderella finds an old diary. Very old, in fact, at least a hundred years. It’s rude to read a diary, of course, but whoever wrote this is long dead, and cinderella is bored, so…

from the description of activities the author looks to have been nobility. Maybe even a princess. She’s sensitive and sweet and smarter than she seems to realize. If circumstances had been different cinderella wishes they could have been friends…

after the summer ends cinderella returns to her husband. He’s spending a lot of time with a young musician and cinderella can’t even work up the energy to care. She does some research about the castle and the family she’s married into, finds out the name of the princess who wrote the diary.

aurora. Cursed and forgotten. She died young, they say, in a plague that also took out the castle staff and her own parents. Luckily they avoided a succession crisis, but not so lucky for the dead.

time passes. cinderella goes to the old castle again and again, even out of season. Soon enough all that remains to be done is the old tower, and the builders say they should tear it down and fill the gaps before it gets cold.

one night cinderella is restless. The princess from the diary had been fond of that tower, and cinderella is far more attached to a dead woman than she ought to be. She gets out of bed, reads by candlelight, and finally goes to walk the empty halls.

she finds herself going to the tower. Pushing past the vines that don’t seem so troublesome really. They almost part before her. The stairs are perfectly intact, the door at the top is already cracked open. As if she should have done this years ago, cinderella steps into aurora’s bedroom.

she’s as beautiful as the stories say. And sitting under her hands, crossed across her stomach as it rises and falls, is a book of greek poetry.

years later, people will tell the story of cinderella as a cautionary one. Don’t seek above your station. Don’t marry for prestige. After all, a girl who grew up as a servant once married the crown prince, and disappeared after only three years. She ran away, they say, she couldn’t handle the lifestyle.

two old women who run a bookshop together agree with the lesson. Marrying for the wrong reasons never ends well. It’s best to wait for someone you have things in common with, shared interests.

or, failing that, the more linguistic of the two says, wait a decade or ten for someone to fall in love with you from your diary.

Michaela Stirling if you can hear me, PLEASE tell me you jumped ship with Lady Danbury to Sierra Leone. Please. Please. Please. The comedic potential of this duo is astronomical. Imagine Michaela on a rake rampage™ trying to drown the guilt and longing by getting flipped around like a pancake by every queer woman in Freetown meanwhile Lady D watches her stumble back after her fourth night out that week (it’s not even friday) and she’s genuinely asking herself what the hell is wrong with that child. Then flash forward two years later they return to London together and one single interaction between Michaela and Francesca makes Lady D goes 💡