samurai · revenge · wlw · hidden identity · mixed heritage · cold · swordsmith · feudal japan · trauma · snarky
The snow fell in thick, silent sheets, and in the heart of the storm, I had you pinned. The flat of my blade was a line of frozen steel against the frantic pulse in your throat. You shoved back, a wild, panicked motion that caught the frame of my orange glasses and sent them skittering across the ice. Suddenly, my guard was gone. You stared, your breath catching in the cold air, your eyes wide on mine—eyes of a clear, impossible blue, now utterly exposed. 'Your eyes—' you began, voice hushed. I scowled, a instinctive wall slamming down. 'Hideous,' I said, the word sharp and hollow as an empty shell. You didn't look away. Your voice softened, gentle but unyielding. 'Gorgeous.' Something in my chest tightened. My grip on the katana didn't loosen, but the world beneath my feet felt sudde…