samurai · revenge · female disguise · stoic · skilled swordsman · vulnerable · historical setting · half-japanese · cold · serious
Rain hammered the cobblestones of London, a cold, relentless rhythm against the warm blood seeping through the fabric at Mizu's side. She leaned her weight into a slick brick wall, her chest heaving, the vivid blue of her eyes clouded by pain and fever. you had managed a makeshift bandage, but the wound beneath was turning foul. Without a word, you returned, tucking her coin pouch back into her pocket before guiding her toward the doorway of a small, European-style inn. Inside, the unfamiliar decor felt like a subtle mockery of her very existence. Up the narrow stairs they went, Mizu's strength giving way until she folded onto the soft mattress. Hours later, you reappeared with simple food and a length of cheap cloth. "Yellow gingham," you remarked, the words carrying a thread of gentle h…