Hey guys! Thanks for the reads--hope you'll like this one. It mainly features our bae Hanzo. Don't forget to leave a vote and comment loves! :*
The afternoons were reserved for sword training; this much Hanzo knew for as long as he could remember.
The katana sitting proudly in the center of the weapon's room was his most prized possession: This was where he was most proficient, most skilled.
Most deadly.
Its clothed blue hilt never ceased to beckon him closer, and when he wrapped his thick fingers around it, power so addicting shot from his hand that the heir was reminded of his true skills as an eligible leader. Hanzo was certain all of the great clan rulers before him felt the uproar in their veins, and he felt privileged to be consumed by such sensations.
The task of being leader still nerved him even in his age, but his exceptional strategic aptitude and years of training assured him with a confidence he always found comforting.
He slipped the sleeves of his light blue kimono off his muscular shoulders and tied them around his waist. It was an unspoken rule kind of thing; one that stuck with him in his years of practicing the art of fighting. It also revealed an ornate tattoo, blue and yellow, of what seemed to be serpentine dragons plastered on his chest that snaked down the expanse of his left arm.
The dummies in the room were slowly sliced, one after the other, by the sword's sleek perfect blade that could break even the toughest material and pierce through any elaborate armor ever built. It shone with a dangerous luster every time it caught sunlight, and even to a hardened man such as its wielder, the effect was mesmerizing.
Hanzo kept his rigorous exercise up for sometime until out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the vibrant green hair of his brother bobbing by through the shoji panel he left slightly ajar. The first thing the older Shimada noticed was the change in his sibling's attire other than the signature metal band on his head and white earphones, a classic dissentient tool of the youths.
Genji had on a pressed green shirt, khaki knee-length shorts, and black sneakers. Hanzo was rather disturbed by the sight of the societally decent garment.
He's wearing pants. Hanzo squinted his eyes. He's up to something.
For the first time in hours, he felt the beads of sweat rolling down his bare torso, and his thoughts wandered back to memories of you: how red and flustered you were under Genji's company, how you smiled around him.
Could it be?
Feeling a gaze burning into his form, Genji took off an earphone bud and looked to his right, meeting Hanzo eye to eye through the little slit on the entrance. He placed his fingers in between the space and pushed back, sliding the paper screen open before going in, not even bothering to take his footwear off as preferred.
"I knew you'd be here," the lad remarked. "Training and all with your coat off like that again."
In response, Hanzo grabbed the customized sheath of his katana leaning nearby and smoothly slipped the blade in without any drag. He didn't leave his eyes off Genji.
"You should be training as well," he chided. "You'd know that the sleeves of our coats slow us down if you actually picked your sword up for once."
The lad rocked on his heels and let out a patient sigh. "Brother, I do train. How do you think I got these muscles?"
On cue, he flexed his impressive biceps, to which the older Shimada only rolled his eyes at.
"Steroids," Hanzo spat under his breath, untying the knotted sleeves on his waist.
"Steroids? Come on brother, this is all from genuine training."
"Please, since when do you train?"
"Apparently when you're not around to see it."
Hanzo lifted a sharp brow and cracked a devilish smile that showed off sharp canines. "Then you wouldn't mind a little sparring session to back your claim?"
"I wanna, but I can't."
The grin on Hanzo's features fell like a landslide.
"And why not?"
He watched as a blush swept over his younger brother's countenance.
"I'm taking (Y/N) to that ramen shop right outside the palace, you know, Rikimaru's." Genji saw the other's mouth opening to inquire more, but he decided to save the heir the trouble by filling in the details. "It's just a friendly date brother, and don't worry about it: I just came down from Nakagawa-san and she has agreed to give (Y/N) the whole afternoon off."
A friendly date?
Was there even such a thing?
What was it even supposed to be--a date between friends?
Preposterous!
"You don't need the whole evening to eat noodles," Hanzo said, referring to the time you had to be free of work. Both he and Genji were surprised at how harsh his voice came out to be.
"We're not just going to eat noodles." The exasperation in the young Shimada's voice was crystal clear. "It's not going to make up for all those years I bailed out on our friendship. When you left us, I was all that she had. And I let her down."
Wait.
"What do you mean?"
"You remember when it's just the three of us, playing everyday under the red maple tree?" Genji asked, his eyes cast to the ceiling.
The heir's lips curved into a lopsided smile, and he nodded slowly, solemnly. "Yes. I do remember it. It's vague, but it's there."
The other laughed and continued, "We'd play ball or tag, and then afterwards we'd just watch the koi swimming in the pond. (Y/N) almost fell in and Nakagawa-san gave us a scolding. We were happy and content, but then...you just left one day."
That was when their vibrant smiles fell.
Hanzo remembered. He did stop playing with the two of you.
"I forgot about her later on when I got into that elite school," Genji continued, "and now I want to make it up to her."
Words died down in the older Shimada's throat, and he noticed his sibling putting the earphone bud back into his orifice, where it blasted some fast-paced music he has been seen dancing in the bathroom to.
It was not a fine day.
"I'm not gonna take you on today, brother," Genji turned a heel and headed to the exit with a hop in his step. "Maybe tomorrow. Don't take it easy on me!"
Hanzo had no idea why, but a suffocating heat swelled up in his chest, and he fisted his hand and curled his toes in an attempt to repress whatever was bubbling beneath him. All of his lessons on control and meditation for inner peace jumped out the window, and the wise teachings of his elders sounded like mindless gibberish and useless jargon.
"You can't just take (Y/N) out like that, Genji," the heir said in a low tone, trying to sound indifferent. "She has duties, and you're getting in the way of that."
For the hundredth time that day, the young man stopped in his tracks and paused his music. This time however, he took both earphone buds off before casting his brown eyes back to his brother's darker ones--a warning sign.
"I don't see the problem," he countered. "I asked Nakagawa-san and she was fine with the idea."
"The problem is that you think you can just do whatever you want." Hanzo charged forward and stopped inches before the other's form. "Unlike you, (Y/N) is responsible and she sees to it that her work is done right and done on time."
"And unlike you," challenged Genji, "she doesn't deny herself the chance to live and have fun. You know, there's more to life than just sitting down in a room for two hours straight surrounded by tons of candles."
"Do you really think I am privileged to partake in such things?" Hanzo's voice harshened, and he puffed his chest out in aggression. "You saw me--you know as much as I do that I can't have a normal life."
"You can't let that hinder you, Hanzo--and don't change the topic."
"Just don't play games with her, Genji!" He pointed a threatening finger to his younger brother's face. "(Y/N) is a decent woman, and she deserves something better than being in your list of tramps!"
Genji swatted his hand away in a fit of vexation. "You're not the boss of everyone, Lord Hanzo. I have just as much right to the clan's throne as you do. Father made that clear. And for the record, I'm not going to pursue her as romantic interest."
"You expect me to believe you with your questionable history?"
"I don't care if you don't," Genji scoffed, striding back to the open exit before he loses his placid composure. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be going. It is rude to keep a lady waiting."
With a clammy palm, the casanova pushed his green spikes down--to no avail--and sauntered out of the room, a seeming victory when the heir gave no witty comeback.
Oh, but Hanzo had a lot.
He just wasn't willing to say it.
Just as the elders always say: "He who speaks more, ends up doing less."
He could hold his tongue down even when fire and venom persisted to spit out. Problem was, it wasn't his tongue that took hold of him awhile ago.
A shaky hand slithered up and placed itself onto his draped bosom, right above where his usually calm heart beat like a frantic little bird: ecstatic, rapturous, and soaring. It sang a sweet melody...one he's never heard before.
Such a fierce sound!
In that dark room, the marksman had come to realize with a shadowing dread that maybe...maybe he couldn't hold this one down. This yearning couldn't care less for power, or wealth, or honor; and the unfamiliarity of it all broke cold sweat on his angry brow.
What was this?
To his dismay, Hanzo found no answer for it.
Rather uneventful, but I hope y'all enjoyed it still. Thanks for reading and I hope y'all will leave a vote. Tune in for the next chapter loves! :*
~