Thanks for all the votes guys! I hope you all will like this part as well. I was inspired to write this chapter after knowing that indirect kisses were a big deal in Japan. I think it's pretty cute! Also, if you don't like tea--now you do.
Don't forget to click on the little star, loves! :*
The dim, still atmosphere of the Shimada halls in its wake mirrored the dull fatigue wracking your insides. You groaned quietly, waiting outside Hanzo's shoji screens for any sanction of entry. Despite the slight ache beneath your temples, the outlook of meeting Hanzo in a short while was enough to keep your eyes wide and open.
You fidgeted in your spot, your bare soles tapping against the smooth wooden floor. Staring up at the rafters that supported the roof, you wondered on who got the honor of replacing you and how they fared at the moment when a thick, raspy voice came from the other side of the doors.
"Come in."
And that you did.
Sliding a paper panel to the side, you were instantly met by your superior, sitting cross-legged on the floor with that permanent scowl on his face. Perhaps he was just groggy--yeah, maybe that was it. You glanced to the side and noticed that his white futon has been tidied up, pillows laid plump at the top and blankets folded without a crease. You smiled at the thought of a sleeping Hanzo snoring while hugging a pillow tight.
"(Y/N)." His voice broke your lighthearted trance, and you snapped your head back to his.
"Y-Yes, Lord Hanzo?"
"I'm going to a very important meeting later with my father. There is no room for training today and no room for cleaning up after my brother." He glanced from the comb in his hand up to your orbs. "I haven't worn my formal attire in a while, and I might need assistance."
"Of course, Lord Hanzo."
You carried nothing with you at the moment, not that he specified, but the bareness of your hands left you feeling self-conscious and incomplete.
Having nothing else to do, you clasped your hands below your abdomen and watched with interest as the bristles of the comb smoothed through the man's long raven strands. Under the dim lighting, the locks appeared like little black streams that flowed in the moonlight, and you were pulled into another world.
Your stare didn't go past Hanzo's field of vision, and feeling that your probing eyes weren't going to leave anytime soon, he gave a quiet sigh and twisted his torso to question you.
"With you looking at me like that, I suppose you want to comb my hair?"
Without so much as a blink, he extended the comb out for you to grab at in a single swift motion.
You jumped in your spot and stammered words as they stumbled on your tongue. You were so flustered, you didn't even perceive the little tug his lips gave at your commotion.
"I-I didn't mean to pry, Lord Hanzo." You bowed low from the waist, hoping to hide the red that took over your face. "It just looked so fascinating, er, I mean--I'm so sorry."
Straightening your body back up, you found your superior in the same position with the same expression etched all over his angular features. He didn't seem to have heard your apology at all, or rather, he paid no heed to it.
"Take it as an order," he said, adjusting his spine to maintain his perfect posture. "Sit behind me and comb my hair as I meditate."
You gulped and gathered your composure back as best you could under the austere, intimidating aura he radiated. If you knew anything in your years here in the castle, it was that the heir could be a control freak at times, and things that deviate from the flow of his plans tick him with a burning rage. Befriending caution seemed like the only way to make it out of each day alive, and you intended on sticking by that strategy.
His eyes were closed, waiting for you to settle in your designated spot. After taking a few steps forward, you stopped before his back, got on your knees, and took the comb from his grip. Shifting in place, you grabbed a lock of his hair and let the bristles run through the strands.
So far, so good.
Hanzo stilled like a stone statue and the sound of his uniformed breathing eased the tension that tightened in your chest. His bosom rose and fell, indicating his tranquility--another assurance for you. Soon enough, you barely paid attention to the awkward air and lack of communication, having focused entirely on the chore of brushing his hair. Lock after lock, your fingers cherished the soft, silky feel of the black rivulets, and a slow tune floated into the static air from your slightly parted lips.
He turned his head to the side for a moment before staring back pensively at the blank wall before him.
"What song are you humming?" His low voice startled you to say the least.
"I'm sorry." You bit your lip sheepishly, not answering his question in any way. "I must've ruined your meditation, Lord Hanzo."
"I like it. Continue."
"H-huh?"
"It's rather quiet here, don't you think so, (Y/N)?"
Pressing the bristles of the comb on his scalp, you nodded. "It is. You must feel so lonely in the morning." And you brought your hand down another set of locks.
"It does get lonely," Hanzo agreed, a peaceful look settling over his sharp countenance. "But I have a feeling that things will be different."
"How so?"
"You ask too many questions."
The brusque words would have soured your spirits if not for the little tint of playfulness present in them. It sounded how a father would respond to his inquisitive child. It was in no way harsh at all.
A sigh escaped the man as the comb gently scraped down his scalp, tingling the skin there. With the inactivity and poor lighting in the quarters, added your careful treatment and soothing refrain, everything made for a drowsy atmosphere that tempted the warrior to close his eyes and go back to slumber without a care in the world. It was like his mother's lullaby.
The only thing that kept him from the abyss was the feel of your fingers grazing against the skin of his sensitive nape whenever you'd grab a lock of his hair. It was a weak spot he hadn't divulged to anyone, and he planned on keeping that secret with him to his grave.
Especially from Genji.
Moments later, light crept onto the walls despite the obstruction of dark blue drapes, and the very light pierced through the curtains that were Hanzo's eyelids; what was once his dark, private world exploded into a bright, glaring mess as the sun rose high.
The man groaned, clearly displeased by the untimely interruption, and he, in turn, regarded you with a sharp glare over his shoulder, his good mood having been soiled and trampled on.
"That's enough," he ordered in a clipped tone. Hanzo didn't need to look around to know that you've stilled with dread.
The marksman caught his mistake, and with a sigh, he softened his tone to ease your turmoil. "You can stop now, (Y/N). Arigato."
Your shoulders then rolled in relief, and your chest swelled at the appreciation he endowed. It was a rare treat, and it was one you cherished and committed to memory every time opportunity allowed it. You bowed slightly, even if your superior would never see your respects.
To your right, a sharp silhouette appeared on the other side of the shoji doors. It pushed a light, thin cart with cups and other assorted utensils arranged neatly atop its surface. Glancing back at Hanzo for permission, you received a nod of his head and got up on bare feet to acknowledge the servant waiting outside.
With a slide of a paper screen, you took the cart's metallic handle into your palms, thanked your fellow servant with a bow, and wheeled the carrier into the center of the room. In your flurry of actions, the heir's keen sight never left your form, and he observed you like a bullseye mark.
"Lord Hanzo," you called out, capturing his full attention.
"What is it, (Y/N)?"
"They've brought you tea," you replied, picking up the tray and laying it on top of a low wooden table standing near his futon. "Would you like me to serve you a cup?"
"No need. I'd like to take this opportunity to practice my etiquette for when the delegates and business associates come later." He had tied his hair up into his signature ponytail in the expanse of time. "Help yourself to a cup (Y/N)."
"P-Pardon, sir?"
"Drink with me," he put simply. "Unless, of course, you'd rather prefer some sake."
"Um, no, Lord Hanzo. I'll join you if you wish." His attempt at humor slid past your head, and the absence of any smile on your part plucked a chord of sadness and disappointment in his secret heart of hearts.
Once seated comfortably, the man's fingers went for the handle of the kettle to lift it off the porcelain. Your eyes then trailed the white, misty steam as it floated and bloomed into thin clouds, a weak veil that separated you and your master's faces.
"Genji never quite told me what happened on your little date," Hanzo began out of nowhere as he reached for the usuki, the cylindrical container for the powdered tea. "Would you care to fill me in with the details?"
You blushed and pushed the heel of your palm against your clothed lap. "It wasn't really a date, per say," you began with a chuckle, lightening the mood. "He just took me out for a bowl of ramen, then he ordered us both bento boxes. He insisted on buying me ice cream--who would have known he still remembered my favorite flavor even after all these years?"
Hanzo's face fell at the bright spark of joy spreading over your radiant face. It wasn't that he despised your happiness, rather it was because it wasn't meant for him. He didn't do that to you.
Genji did.
The chasen in his hand slowed its stirring, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to disregard the depressing cloud hanging over his head.
"You sounded like you had fun," he murmured.
"I did," you confirmed, bringing the cup close to your nose to inhale the mixture's earthy scent.
"Would you do it again?"
You took a slurp. "I suppose why not."
Hanzo's gaze never wavered from you. "Would you do it...with me?"
The liquid seeping down your throat all of a sudden felt like a brick, hard to swallow and to take in.
Receiving no reply aside from your saucer-like eyes, Hanzo took a sip of his own tea and repeated himself for your convenience.
"Would you consider going on a date...with me? If ever such a thing happens?"
You fought the urge to spew the hot tea out and instead took it all down in one, big gulp. You stared at your superior, hoping he was pulling at your strings, kidding like a juvenile. But you found no trace of anything that would betray the marksman's nonchalant countenance. He was as serious as his reputation presents him to be.
"(Y/N)." His thick voice reminded you of your delay. "Are you alright? You haven't answered my question."
You nodded with vigor, hoping your haste would deviate his worry and suspicions. "Well...if I were to go on a date with you, and I'm not sure how that'll happen, I'd probably say yes. I guess it would be fun getting to know you again as my childhood friend, and not as my superior, Hanzo."
He set his cup down and graced his bottom lip with a slick, wet tongue, inadvertently catching your full concentration. The action, as innocent as it was, stirred a primal heat within you that appeared on your face.
In your inattentiveness, your fingers brushed over the hishaku in an effort to distract your mind from such thoughts. However your hand wobbled with a tiny spasm, and you dropped the laddle onto the floor as a result.
"I'm so sorry, Lord Hanzo," you whispered under your breath.
Wasting no time, you set your own cup down close to his before bending low and reaching for the laddle that strayed a good distance away from the table. After straining your body for half a minute, you straightened yourself, a known habit, with the laddle in hand, and took your place back down adjacent the stoic man.
Your fingers circled around your cup as your eyes swept over to the marksman, who revelled in the last remaining drops of the warm beverage descending his throat.
Loosening a bit, you smiled and inspired the aromatic smell of the dissolved matcha that wafted into your sinuses. It calmed your nerves, and the blood rushing inside your veins returned to their standard, usual pace.
As you gyrated the cup on your left palm, you noticed something about the green tea swirling inside that made you scrunch your face up in confusion.
That's odd, you thought with squinting eyes. I could've sworn I left a little bit more tea in here. And the pattern on this porcelain, wasn't it sakura flowers on the bottom? Why is it bare white now?
Glancing up at the man's broad hand, you spotted the intricate pink details in between the two lower fingers. And when he brought the rim in between his plump lips, you were certain you had fainted. Your heart sure felt like it dropped, but your body stood straight and stiff. Your sudden stillness didn't escape Hanzo's eye, and like before, he set his cup back down onto the table.
"Is something wrong, (Y/N)?" He lifted a thick brow. "You look a little tense."
Admitting your master's mistake would only embarrass him and cast another cloud of awkwardness around the two of you. What would he think when he finds out he accidentally shared what was probably his first kiss with you? A mere servant girl?
Your heart sunk at the degrading thought.
Deciding that it was for the best, the heel of your palms dug deeper onto your lap, and you pursed your lips tight, shaking your head.
"N-No, Lord Hanzo. Everything's fine."
"Good," he said. "I'm done with my tea. Please call someone to bring the cart out of my room."
"Of course." You stood up and bowed, eager to get the chore done as soon as possible. "One moment."
You went over to the entrance and slipped the shoji screen open before stepping out of the quarters.
Hanzo observed your sharp figure on the other side as it blurred and vanished as you left. Tearing his focus from you, a glint of pride glimmered in his amber orbs at having claimed you without your knowing.
A sensual experience he'll cherish for as long as he lives.
His fingers grazed at the brim of the cup where his lipmark was present, and under it, a smaller mark tainted with a light pink hue.
Perhaps he'll taste your very lips the next time you kiss.
Man that was long. Anyway guys, thanks for reading! Don't forgets to vote and tune in for the next part! :*
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