Disclaimer: All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Sorry about the late post. I have so much school work – tons of boring reading material. I promise to finish this story! However, I probably won't be posting every other day like before. But, I'll do my damnedest! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate the feedback! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Chapter Thirteen: "The Samurai"
Sepia irises tortured his dishonorable soul. He had meant to destroy their blinded gaze, but like centuries before, Toshiro failed. The samurai brought further dishonor onto his ancestors by condemning her to immortality. The American soldier was meant to be a quick meal – nothing more. However, the kami sent foolish mortals to interrupt his feeding. Not wasting their lives, the Japanese warrior drank their life forces. Unfortunately, his previous victim began the change. He felt his venom coursing through her broken body. It created an instantaneous bond. An unfamiliar emotion struck him: paternal love. Never having been a father, he fled like a coward. She needed to die, but Toshiro could not kill her. Selfishly, he wanted nothing more than to claim her.
For days, he ran. However, the distance became futile. Toshiro's soul was attached to the newborn; the soldier was an extension of himself. Her emotions consumed him – fear, hunger, determination, and resolve. Much like a samurai, the woman persevered in the desert. Without guidance, she managed to evade detection in the Middle East. She possessed a strong will. Fatherly pride soothed his stone heart. He knew that she needed to die, but he prayed that she would live. If the soldier remained connected to him, Toshiro would no longer be a Ronin. No, he would become the master – a man with purpose.
Days turned into weeks; weeks shifted into months. The samurai's heir survived in the Atlantic Ocean. The god of the sea, Owatatsumi, protected her. As she thrived in the wilderness, Toshiro returned to Japan. He reclaimed the land of his father, hiring architects to rebuild the shoin-zukuri. No longer a Ronin, the warrior required a safe haven for his venomous offspring. The woman knew nothing of him, but the ancient immortal planned to rectify his cowardice. For she, unknowingly, restored his faith in Bushido.
Upon the completion of the residence, the samurai sought his prodigy. Through their bond, he knew that she had returned to America. Toshiro allowed his daughter's lively spirit to guide him across the Pacific Ocean. He swam, uplifted. His child's emotions warmed the inner-demon; pure love consumed her. Never had he felt such devotion. The soldier had mated in his absence. Such bonds were rare. Toshiro realized that she never needed to die. No, she was meant to live. The heavens blessed her – his successor.
Reaching land, he did not dally. The samurai cantered through Washington. Avoiding humans, he eventually discovered her position. She was not alone. Holed inside a warehouse, his daughter fought a newborn army. Three, aged males accompanied her. As a unit, they destroyed the young. Toshiro watched from the main entrance, impressed. Like a bushi, she raged with honor. He did not plan to interfere with the battle, but a redheaded female aimed for his daughter. With inhuman grace, the Japanese warrior struck the attacker. Her beautiful face cracked under his fist. She seemed surprised by the hit, eyes wide. However, the expression did not linger. Toshiro wrapped muscled arms around her, severing her delicate neck. Any creature that attempted to harm his child would meet certain death.
"I wanted to kill her," chimed behind the samurai's side. The foreign vampire faced the angelic voice – his daughter. Doe-like, golden spheres bore into his soul. She did not smile; he felt her distrust. "You're not what I expected," she continued. "In my mind, I imagined a hellish ghoul with black eyes, but you seem… respectable."
Toshiro nodded, unsure of what to say. No words could express his true feelings. Fortunately, another understood their depths. A scarred man stepped forward, venom smeared across his chin. He offered a smile in his daughter's stead. "We were wondering when you'd show," he twanged. "Bella felt your presence. She didn't know if you planned to kill her. Of course, now, we know that's not fact. I can feel your love for her. If you want, y'all can get some fresh air. Talk. We're about done here. We just need to burn the bodies."
"Jasper, I won't leave you to do the dirty work."
"Dirty work," he chuckled. "Bella, burning is the easy part. Just go."
His formidable offspring frowned, glancing at Toshiro. She sighed, heading outside. The samurai followed her into a shadowed alley. Ironically, his daughter seemed more dangerous when alone. Her breathtaking beauty acted as an illusion – a guise for the monster within her. Most beings would mistake her as easy prey. However, the crescent scars displayed her dominant power. Like him, the woman was a warrior. He could not have chosen a more perfect prodigy. The samurai sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the heavens. Even if she rejected him, she would remain his everything.
"Why did you desert me? Why not kill me?"
"Once my venom entered your bloodstream, I bonded with you. You became my daughter. Your soul tied to mine," Toshiro explained. "However, I am a cursed being, a dishonor to my ancestors. I am a samurai who cannot die. I did not want you to share my fate, but our bond weakened me. I could not kill you so I fled. I believed another would have the strength to destroy you, but you are a survivor."
"I could have killed hundreds of people," she growled. "The Volturi would have killed me; they would have killed you too."
"Death would have been a gift."
"Our bond has renewed my faith. Each day you survived, I felt blessed. As time passed, I rediscovered purpose. You gave me the most precious gift – family. I am no longer a Ronin. I am now a master, your sire. I returned to my native land and rebuilt my father's home. It is yours. All I want is your happiness."
The soldier sighed. She parted her lips to speak but fell silent. Toshiro felt her soul twist in confusion. He reached for her, grasping her forearm. Warmth traveled up his arm. By her puzzled expression, she felt the sensation as well. "It's our bond," he soothed. "It is a physical manifestation of my love for you. One day, I hope you will accept it. I know that I have wronged you. I will never ask for your forgiveness. However, I wanted you to understand my devotion. As your sire, your father, I needed you to know."
"Thank you," she whispered.
Toshiro nodded, again. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "I will not intrude on your life, but I hope you will accept me into yours. Jasper shared that you felt my presence. When you are able, visit me."
"Are you leaving?"
"Yes, I will not impose any longer. When you are more comfortable in my presence, I will be at your side," he promised. "Until then, remain safe."
"You never told me your name," the soldier stated.
"My name is Toshiro, the last samurai."
"Bella Whitlock," she politely responded. "And, I promise to visit you soon, Toshiro."
For the first time in centuries, the Japanese warrior smiled. The pull felt foreign on his face. With a short bow, he exited in silence. His prodigy's hesitant acceptance validated his renewed purpose. Toshiro needed only to wait for her promised arrival.
Foot Note: Toshiro is a character developed in the films. He appears in Breaking Dawn: Part II. I thought he would be an excellent candidate for Bella's sire. Of course, I wrote a background for him. He's not an actual samurai in the film.