What Comes After
The following week found Hanzo, cautiously entering Kara's home. She wasn't there...or so he thought, until he heard the shower. He thought about leaving, the woman throwing her voice into his right ear had him jumping, heart thudding heavily.
Evening! Took me up on the offer to fight, eh? I would reciprocate, but, where my razor currently is right now prevents me from doing so. Give me an hour? Need to wash my hair too...
The distinct lack of 'please' caused him to gruffly clear his throat. Kara laughed, in his left ear, further disconcerting him.
Razor, blades, area I would rather not end up in hospital, explaining to a nurse...
He practically sped-walked from the woman's home, mind twisting words directly, distinctly southward. He folded his arms, frustrated with himself, mere lexicon pulling at his brain, thoughts controlling actions.
Locating the couch, an hour to kill, Kara felt his strain, it affected her, his Amber vibrato, sat atop her neatly folded bathroom towel, little indent in the middle.
Punching bag, its in the garden right now. Fall is perfect for training outside. Key is atop the fridge.
She heard the back door opening, water hitting glass door of the shower masking laughter...
Gathering together her shampoo and conditioner bottles, Kara huffed, carefully pulling out several loose strands of hair, brunette pattern mish-mash on tiles. She wasn't about to risk blocking the drain, yet another call out for the plumber.
He'd likely start thinking she wasn't calling for him to plumb the drain, unblock the pipes. Rather clear hers...
Synthetic mandarin filled her nostrils as she worked lather through lengths, pulling them free of knots, more hairs with it. Sticking them, too, on the tiles, rinsing her hands. Kara washed her hair, the process thoroughly relaxing her, though she couldn't help but wonder why Hanzo had shown up in the evening.
Sure, he'd missed meal times, so she'd already eaten and settled in for the night, but it was getting fairly late to be revving up to fight.
Sure, not many pedestrians would be around, as it was during the work week, she wasn't about to destroy her home, all for the sake of 'settling scores,' and the garden was too small. He'd left her to think of somewhere to duel. She had an idea, hoping it had been vacated of late night Yoga practitioners, their only spare time being of an evening...
The garden, Springtime. It was now Autumn.
One thing loomed obvious, however. Quite the problem. Greenery was flammable, and Kara was pretty sure they, nor the local council would appreciate the pyromancer, incinerating rare and wonderful blooms they had so carefully planted years ago. They would hound her out of the city by next morn...
Conditioner plopped onto her hand, candy floss scent, throwback to childhood memories, feeling sick from eating too much neon pink fluff at carnivals...the smell heartened Kara, smoothing her hair, taming wildness, frizz non-existent. Washing her hair soothed her, warm water easing tension from having to have her hair put up, finding elastics a nightmare when she was exhausted, sleep eluding her.
When she was done, Kara stood on bamboo bathmat, grabbing a slimmer towel, twisting it on the crown of her head. Body towel wrapped around her body after through drying, the woman moved the crystal. It crackled, lighting up with energy, in time with blows to the punching bag. She could hear grunts, the leader angry?
No, she wasn't thick, dense. She knew what those pulses were.
Nullity adverse. These were thoughts, flying at the man, unbidden, out of their cage. This plagued Hanzo with indecisiveness, drenching him in the stuff, something he hated with a passion. Kara wanted to him to see that her words meant little, they could be taken in jest.
She also wished to engage in something other than what was likely appropriate, given their titles, given who they were.
Who he was.
He's here, though, isn't he? He may be aloof, but not this night. He seems, charged, hyper focused, eager.
Her lower half agreed, phasing upper out to everything but the Amber. It now lay on her bed, mind having cast it there, clearly agreeing with her physical predicament.
Fuck off...she growled, looking at her crotch, giving it a look that could further shrivel a prune...I can't just come out and ask him. That's...
Another voice chimed, Kara's head following it, hand holding the towel, so it stayed atop her head...
Why is it she is taking an age? Does she mean me to die from elder frailty?
The ball was in his court, and she would walk into his section to retrieve it, if only he'd let her.
He let her. With those two lines, that was him revealing he wanted to be there, was there of his own accord.
He wished to speak!
And speak she would.
Heading into the bedroom, the General opened the cupboard, perusing attire with pedantic frenzy. Familiar light bulb lit before her eyes, as she began understanding where her thoughts travelled.
She actually wanted to try, attempt to look 'pretty,' interesting to the man in her garden.
Do her hair, curls framing her face.
Makeup (even if she'd sweat it off as they trained), sultry edge, nude, full lips, lined for definition.
Impractical heels, so she'd conveniently 'trip,' having Hanzo 'save' her.
She snorted, porcine resemblance uncanny.
He'd need saving, if her errant hands had their way, nails forming crescent shapes in palms expectantly.
Since when was she daring?
Perhaps she'd hit the (as Johnny called it) 'Fuck it, I am old enough to know what I want, and I will try and get it, instead of playing games' stage in her life.
Instead of waiting for her way of flirting to kick in, fluttery eyelashes, wayward glances, biting of lips, being bought flowers, chocolates she'd inevitably end up eating half of (in one go), then burying them behind Tupperware containing brown rice and homemade muesli, to stop her from hitting diabetic peak, that she would speak.
No show, no kiss and tell, she would merely speak.
If he was on the same page, and Gods, she hoped he was in the same damn book, let alone page, she wanted to prepare for either eventuality.
Either he would turn her down, which would be perfectly fine (she had hands and a wild imagination, when the mood struck her.)
Or, he would say 'yes', and they would find solace, seek comfort in each other. It wasn't meaningless, far from it. Though it held zero relationship ties, they held strings of trust, bound together with humble want for one of life's pleasures.
Companionship, without the need for rings, vows, paper, ceremony.
For the sake of it? Perhaps, if tonight would go the way she was hoping, yes. It would be purely for ridding sexual tension, frustration.
It had been twelve years for her, she held more experience than Hanzo, him being with only one woman, and for a terribly short amount of time.
Kara wouldn't hold it against him. She would guide, listen, learn with him, neither give nor take too much, unless explicitly stated by either party.
She smiled, fingers pausing on two hangers.
That evening was the start of something passionate, spirited, emotional, awkward, heartfelt. She just didn't know it yet...
Considering going downstairs naked, that thought quickly cast aside, far too cheeky, Kara quickly shoved on a grey button up shirt and black joggers. The brunette then grabbed her jumpsuit hanger, and Goddess attire, recollecting the possibility that, in either outfit, the leader's demeanour would change to that of candour.
His eyes wouldn't gleam sinister around her in them. They would perk up, twenty-year lethargy forgotten instantaneously. Moth to flame, though she was the moth. Drawn to his flame, a match dying to be lit, the darkness closing in fretful reminder of time's heaviness.
His hands wouldn't rub together in devilish glee, intent unsavoury, holding her attention for more than simple conversation.
Kara felt resistance, immediately grasping fully as to why. This wasn't something he did. Whimsical farce wasn't his thing, nor did it charm the woman. She'd throw up were he that way inclined.
With baited breath, the woman made her to the staircase, back door opening making her fully, painfully aware that it was now or never.
"You know," padding down the stairs, Kara draped her garments over the kitchen worktop, unfurling the towel from her head, hair distinctly venturing out, in every which way possible, "you're awfully loud, for a ninja..."
He squinted, pursed lips accusatory.
"Are you spying on me"?
"Come on," she teased, "you ought to know me better than that, by now. Not with my eyes, no. You have my crystal, don't you? It is a part of me, it will give you messages, when I allow them to flow through me, locate the gem and speak through it. You do the same. Only, with you, it isn't so much as voluntary. Its okay," she reassured, though sultry flirt remained in her tone of voice, "didn't hear anything I shouldn't have. Teach you to hone control over what comes out of your mind, via the Amber, if you wish. Wouldn't want anybody else hearing personal snippets. Funny how you speak formally when you can see me, but when you can't, you speak freely."
The victorious smirk was back, and Gods if it didn't head straight where she needed it, sure her pupils were veritable saucers...
"You are the only one who has my gem, therefore, only you hear my thoughts. You hear what I want you to hear."
"Are you sure about that? Cause I am hearing rather, interesting things. Also, I'm, not surprised. Touched, actually. That you willingly gave me your gem, as you do also with your time. Free time, I should add. I get you aren't the party type, but shouldn't you do something other than redden your knuckles? I was thinking of going out. Little drinking, little fun...why do you think I bothered shaving? I take an age for a reason."
That shut him up, his eyes on the verge of vacating their sockets, smirk falling faster than pouting toddler's temper tantrum, flinging their dinner across the room...
"Nah." The woman clicked her tongue. "I do it for me. Sheets feel better with smooth skin, I feel better without it. I wonder if you would"? She hummed. "Nah. Reckon you'd look younger, and that's a 'fucking Netherrealm no' for me."
She shivered.
"Hmm, you've seen my jumpsuit, right? The lace and sequin one? Should I wear that tonight, or my robes?"
"Surely what you are wearing now is practical enough?"
The gist was hanging in the air on frayed strings...
Kara sighed, letting it fall, ungraciously to the floor.
"Oh yeah, we're fighting again, aren't we? Can I fight you in that?" Fingers poised above the black outfit. "Its elasticated. Comes in handy, for certain, occasions..."
Hanzo caught the gist as it grazed the tiles. Kara could have slapped him, then kissed him, then kissed where she slapped...
"The park? Third corner, on the left. I'll see you there."
She winked, teleporting, wisps of newly bloomed orchid surrounding him, forcing goosebumps from the man all over, hairs on tenterhooks.
Leaving unceremoniously, as soon as the front door was closed, Hanzo headed for the park, sure he was muttering obscenities for the way he was reacting. If she'd known, she hadn't mentioned it, his gratitude vast.
If she had, the battle wouldn't have been outside. He'd have fled, cowardly scurrying off, back to the fortress, flooded with loathing, confusion. Then shame, but ultimately, pride would slip, rain would fall, cascading shame with it down the drain...
Ten minutes later found the pair feuding, harsh exhales, inhales raspy. Dodging a grab, Kara teleported behind the man, too fast for him to react. She grabbed an arm, twisted it and threw him over her shoulder, pinning limb and him with a knee.
"Give it all you got. Don't insult me. Pull no punches. I can take it."
She let go, Hanzo wondering where her brain cells had gone. Had her flipping around scattered them like marbles?
She actually wanted him to knock her out? If he hit her, it would cause major damage, the man having knocked out numerous opponents in a single punch.
The leader backing off, making his way towards a bench messed with Kara's head.
"Yes," he huffed, explanation of halting the fight burden, not merely his serious injury, but for the pale flesh exposed by lace, his concern shifting to baffling, sudden need, "because none would notice black eye, mottled cheek. I could not possibly hit you, full out. I would, regret that hugely."
Well, that wasn't half bad. Half baked? Yes.
Though honest, earnest even.
If earnest looked you in the eye, as lion would gazelle...
"Alright. What's with that look though? Are you looking at me, or through me"? She glanced around. "I can't tell."
Hanzo flew at her, flurry of combos practically panicking her, until she found herself against wood, bench hard against her shins. She swerved, the man's fist, aimed at her shoulder hitting a plaque, someone's husband, their memory unintentionally attacked.
Not by crook or vandal but pumped up ninja, adrenaline zooming through veins a mile a minute.
Finding himself too keyed up, the offending hand located the woman's, easily pulling her to him. Her letting him spoke sizeable dimensions.
Choosing to use her eyes, rather than mouth, bizarre movements followed, nature documentary dialogue popping into her head, somewhat of a 'mating dance.' She couldn't dance, but would entertain nonetheless.
Phasing out sound, she made sure their presence was a secret from the world. His knuckles were rapidly reddening, fingers curled into fist, though weapon no longer necessary. His eyes gleamed, orange traffic light sign of wonder, wondering whether to move. Warning non-existent, Kara's attention affixed on him, her hand working his jaw, index and thumb, finding hairs delicate, rough stubble not applicable for him. The occupied hand was squeezed as jawline was mapped, prominent bone skimmed with nails.
Her concentration began wavering, barrier quivering.
Where this meandered, Kara knew, holding both accountable. Hanzo had made the first move, therefore, she would make the second. He allowed Kara into his mind, unbidden, without restriction.
Autumn, twenty-one year old Hanzo Hasashi sat in front of his Father, not behind, as per usual. He had made it, gained the title of Ninja, become what he had envisioned, gained wisdom, sought power and found it.
Though, watery eyes greeted him, Father's mouth thin, thinner than he'd ever seen prior. He wore the mask of Master, not Father. This concerned Hanzo, finding his Mother's eyes. She looked happy, hands clasped to her middle, giving the two respect, full honours, as did the men around them.
Questions filled him, as he was given the family tantÅ, sheathed, that too, hidden from view.
Was he ashamed of his son? His only child? He'd wanted more, but was unable to conceive after Hanzo. This had him grow bitter, thorns leeched energy from him, sapping strength. They also formed a barrier between him, his son and wife.
He would not have gone astray, though was tempted several times, when serving girls robes fitted a little too snugly...
Ignoring gnawing doubt, forcing himself to be oblivious, he bowed, leaving to the family temple. Surrounded by falling leaves littering the cobbles, decorating rooves of the fortress, gold, amber, burnished copper, tarnished bronze, the smell of earth in the air, Hanzo took it in, breathing deeply, feeling saline come to his own eyes as he knew he would be leaving soon. He wished to train elsewhere, begin learning different styles, observing their traits, characteristics, whether they were in tune with Ninjitsu, or bettered it, finding its weaknesses.
Hanzo's speed outperformed all there, able to worm his way out of situations that brought up flaws in his stance.
He was just about to leave, when a shadow cast itself out, behind the alter room building, pale pink streams coming from it. From the shape of the figure, as if hearing his thoughts, it turned, revealing the form to be female, inquisitive eyes found his, brown dominant against green, foliage around her similar shade to that, the earth beneath his feet him similar to his and hers.
Instinct told him to follow as she wandered off, forgotten, disused cliff paths taken, to avoid suspicion, so thought Hanzo. Mandarin accompanied the swirls of magic, bringing a sweet, unknown note to the male, as well as freesia and macadamia. Concoction strange, alluring, all the same.
Wasn't he to be married to Harumi Saito soon? Why was he entertaining, looking at this other woman? He hadn't even seen her face, only hazel orbs and soft, graceful smile.
He followed, not without caution, youthful exuberance toiling with battle hardened, steel resolve...
Freesia dominant, this smell pulled the man from memory recollection. Mandarin guided him to the woman, macadamia scenting his nostrils, foreign sweetness in her hair driving him forward.
Kara walked away, watching Hanzo follow her, exalting him, eyes brightest coral, creation of purple and orange. Siphoning his abilities, she let her own be taken in, hearing, feeling two heartbeats, surrounding themselves with divine zeal.
Enclosing the space, blooming fire from her hands, her body burned, beading sweat dripping down her back.
Using her momentum, she turned, her arm behind her, leaving Hanzo's hands near the zip of her outfit. The sound of teeth unzipping deafened Kara, composure falling with fabric, down her spine. Hands found cool skin, passing warmth immediate, radiating, her world surrounded by carnelian, her own power defenceless against the sheer heat.
Unable to continue fighting this, Kara turned, fingers meandering their path up the column of the man's throat, finding knife edge jaw, his head tilting, hers the opposing direction, avoiding noses colliding their lips connecting easily, as if they'd done this before.
Kara's way of kissing? Exploratory, a little forceful, if given permission, mouth parted, wondering if more would happen, body tensing with anticipation.
Hanzo's way? Cautious. He let her dominate him, but old ways crept in, seeped lava through his veins, blood red hot, tongue wrestling hers provoking him, driving him to action, dangerous bubbling of blood maddening.
She pulled him in, he pulled back, neither willing to hand control's reigns over just yet.
In the blink of an eye, they were back in her house, his gem colliding with hers, (having fallen from his pocket) as the two hit the sheets silently.
The gems lit up, fusing, ever-so-familiar coral colouring the walls, forming stars on the ceiling.
Allowing herself to make sound, it leaving her mouth as soon as she opened it formed stars in her eyes, gleaming, dancing sparks.
Easily melding together, almost frightening how much so, minds, bodies, breath became one, one being. Falling into each other, embracing darkness, attempts to muffle abandoned, fervour taking over, instinct strong.
Hearing his own name spoken, carelessly, thrown around gave Hanzo purpose. He sought it, sought Kara, sought her voice, her fulfilment. Dropping his guard, she painted lines across expanse of back and chest, throat peppered red.
Kara sought his, her own thrown to the wayside, dropping monikers, falling to her knees, seeking treasure, hunting for gold, elusive for decades. They were far from fools.
Seeking her name from his mouth was her goal.
When he said it, she lost all inhibition, willingly giving her all, wanting to give and take everything they offered...
"Forgive me." Tilting Hanzo's jaw upward, she kissed him. "May not know how act in this situation, but pretty sure 'bitch' isn't part of it. My inexperience speaks volumes when I should have shut the damn book..."
She'd gotten up after the act, to clean up, but hadn't told him. Coldly, callously, she'd cleaned up, grabbed an oversized t-shirt, slipped it on and gone back into the bedroom. It was only when she sat on the bed, seeing confusion flit over otherwise peaceful features that she cursed herself.
Had she just used him, then left the room?
May as well have told him to get out.
Fuck.
Fighting tears, she clarified.
"Its sorta important to clean up afterwards, especially for women. Please, don't think I wanted to leave you without saying anything. Its automatic for me. I'm,"
She was quietened with a finger and a kiss.
Getting into bed, body warmth easing contented hum, Kara wondered if Hanzo would leave, the deed having been done, over, finished. She wouldn't blame him, however, knew she would feel hurt. Midnight sadness was common, the stars shimmering no longer.
When Hanzo reentered the room, wearing the shirt she had left for him (remnants of a previous partner, who had left most of his belongings before leaving abruptly, no explanation), she grinned, opening the duvet for him to slip inside.
His arm around her waist was the cherry-on-top for Kara, easily slotting her head onto the groove of his arm and chest. He wanted to remain as close as possible with her.
Perfect, they were not, but, whilst everyone else saw the world in black and white, they saw each other in a different light...