Hanzo swiftly turns the corner to enter the dojo, candles illuminate the room causing a warm air to envelope. Nothing's changed inside the room- warm, inviting and peaceful to encourage meditation however, something's off.
He spins on his heels to duck his head into the hallway only to notice the lack of guards or servants... well that's worrying. Someone must be in the building (last time he checked candles can't light themselves) but they're nowhere to be seen. He furrows his brows in confusion, the castle always has some sort of movement even on the quietest of days- people have jobs to do and places to be after all- so pure inaction and silence is downright unnerving.
"Hello?" He calls into the vacant hallway, his voice bouncing off the wooden walls only to be met with no response at all. He would find his father or maybe a council member- they would certainly know what was going on, maybe there's something he's unaware of (highly unlikely but possible).
With a last scan he turns to reenter the dojo only to freeze in his tracks, in the centre of the large room stood an achingly familiar figure... Genji.
Suddenly everything came flooding back- he couldn't go to find his father for help, he's dead and has been for what felt like an eternity. It's the sight of his little brother that steals the breath from his lungs (oh god he killed Genji, how could he forget?).
The figure twitches- had he said that out loud? His hands begin to shake and his breathing quickens as the figure (no Genji) slowly turns to face him, the sight that greeted him very nearly brings his breakfast back up.
His right arm's completely gone with only a stub of the humerus on show, the legs (if they can even be called that anymore) were in worse condition. Almost all of the flesh was gone leaving the yellowish bones to peak through the wire like tendons and dripping veins. Finally Hanzo works up the courage to look at its face and god does he regret it almost instantly, what should have been a jaw is more akin to a mutilated pig carcass hanging from a meat hook- which is the cause of the copious amounts of thick blood running down its chest.
The only likeness it has to his bouncing baby brother is that god awful green hair (which is now a tangled bloody mess) and... those eyes . The same eyes that their mother would compare to the walnut coloured feathers on a sparrows back- those eyes haven't changed in the slightest.
"You..." Hanzo snaps back to reality at the garbled word, "what?" He questions, head cocking to the side in confusion.
"You killed... me" he can only nod as he feels his eyes begin to well up "you... slaughtered me... in cold... blood".
"I had no choice" he doesn't recognise his own voice, it's strained and weak- no longer proud.
"You... had every... choice" the figure drops to his knees- the impact causing a sickening hybrid of a squelch and a crack "You could... have said... no".
"I..." his words cut off, words seemed to fail him.
"You... killed me" and that's what it comes down to isn't it? He slaughtered his brother and felt nothing in the moment, he's a monster... an animal. Hanzo falls to his knees as his tears finally being to flow freely, "you... killed father's... little... sparrow". A sob rips its way out of his mouth and he opens his watery eyes to see that figure hobble closer and closer to him, each step sounding more broken than the last.
By the time the figure reaches him his thighs are wet from dripping tears, looking up he sees the hatred in those eyes clear as day.
"I'm so sorry Otōto" his wobbly voice giving away his inner distress.
"Don't... call me... that... we are... no... longer... brothers" the figure croaks and suddenly Hanzo notices the shuriken in the figures hand (the same green edged ones Genji got for his twenty-fifth birthday) but now it's chipped, scratched and most noticeably soaked in a thick coating of blood.
He doesn't react when he feels the cold press of the end of the shuriken on the side of his neck, he doesnt react when he feels his own blood (or maybe it's sweat?) rolling down and pooling behind his collar bones, but he does react when he feels the figures hand tense; ready to strike- he deserves this. It's been a long time coming- nine years to be exact.
He smiles in anticipation, the sharp edge becomes a blur as its yanked sideways across his jugular.
———————————————————————————————————————————
He sits up suddenly as air is forced into his lungs, blinking a few times easily brings him back to the present- he's done this enough times to know the score. He does a quick environment check:
Cheap shitty motel room? Check.
Uncomfortable squeaky bed? Check.
Banging on the wall due to an enthusiastic couple next door? Sadly check.
Cradling his head in his hands he massages his temples in a hopeless attempt to kill of his headache. After a while he gives up, running a hand through his hair he glances at the bed side clock: 5:37am (which meant that couple had been fucking for the best part of six hours- he vaguely wondered if they took a break or marched on for that long).
He figures he isn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon so he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, cringing as he felt his tank top stick to him due to sweat- lovely. He strips off quickly on his way to the shower; happy to be free of the now disgusting sleep wear, after pushing the leaver around to turn the shower on he takes a second to look at himself in the mirror before it steams up.
He looks like complete shit- what a surprise for someone who's been on the run for nine years.
His hair's like a bird's nest: split ends making it seem frizzy, knots filling him with dread at the though of brushing them out and his natural shiny mane was replaced with a dull mop end that makes it look like a deep grey rather than the usual black. His skin is pasty and holds a light sheen of sweat making his face look oily and uncared for (so not too far from the truth) whilst his beard's clearly unkempt resembling a homeless man rather than a leader of the yakuza, correction- former leader of the yakuza.
Sighing he looks away from the same face he's looked at everyday for an eternity and steps into the shower, happy to feel the water wash away any reminder of his nighttime memories. In a vain attempt to relax his muscles he sets his head against the (disgusting) tiled wall but it was a lost cause.
The water rolling down his body eerily feels like his own blood running down his throat- that thought gives him a full body shiver.
After finishing up his shower he brushes his teeth and towel dries his hair, brushing it back so the damp strands annoyed the top of his spine. Pulling on some black skinny track suit pants (they were on sale don't judge) along with a dark grey fitted top- making sure his tattoo's completely hidden behind the long sleeves that easily draped over his hands, apparently this top's made for someone with freakishly long arms. He finishes the outfit off with walking boots and a simple parka style jacket that falls to his mid thighs- altogether a simple outfit that would help him blend in but not make him look too suspicious (a delicate balance).
A quick look at the clock tells him it's now just passed 6:30am, might as well start his day. After throwing his sweaty sleepwear into a plastic bag he gets onto his knees to pull his small duffel bag and cello case from under the bed making sure he packs all of his belongings quickly and methodically. Next he places the two bags be the door and double checks he has his phone, ear phones and room key on him, he's booked in to spend another night there but who knows who's keeping an eye on him these days so a quick escape plan is always useful to have in place.
Lastly he places a swab of cotton wool on the windowsill next to the door- if the door opens in a way that an intruder or any other regular human would then it would be blown onto the floor however, the elder Shimada quickly figured out the better way to open the door to avoid this (block the wind with his body). Call him paranoid, he'd most likely agree.
Tucking a compact throwing knife into his boot he leaves the room to start the day.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Stepping out of the motel he's met with a cool breeze and a beautiful view of the local village, and it really is a hidden gem. It had only been a month and one week since his annual visit to Hanamura- what a joy that was- and since then he's been making his way West simply because why not? He doesn't exactly have anywhere to be and hitman (he preferred "assassin") jobs were plentifully available in any country, that's how he ended up in a quaint little village in Belgium- he didn't bother to learn its name, he'd be moving on very soon.
With no jobs today to has nothing left to do but wander around the streets of Belgium so he chooses a random direction and starts walking aimlessly.
On his third hour of sitting on a park bench people watching he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, that sixth sense the elders had hammered into him at a young age coming in handy. With a subtle glance around (nothing suspicious could be seen just a mother and two children walking) he rises from his curled up position and promptly heads towards the park gates- that awful feeling does nothing but intensify.
Just as he rounds the gate corner the heavens opened and that sunny day takes a depressing turn, he deliberately walks away from his motel room (eventually he would have to loop back around for Stormbow but that was future Hanzo's problem) to lure them away from his belongings. He doesn't bother to pull his hood up he just concentrates on walking in a straight line and not tripping over his loose shoe laces- god knows how he's survived nine years on the run from assassins when he struggles to stay up right 80% of the time.
He decides it's worth it to risk a quick glance behind him only to see a very wet and deserted street minus the hooded figure rounding the park gates and following in his footsteps- shit.
Hanzo subtly quickens his pace hoping it isn't obvious to them that he's spotted the figure (it would hopefully been seen as "oh he's trying to get out of the rain"). He furrows his brows as he makes sure to put one foot in front of the other as every muscle in his compact body tensed in anticipation for a fight or flight reaction- most likely flight as he was in no shape today to be dodging shuriken aimed for his throat.
The wet footsteps quickening behind him made his breath catch in his throat and he takes the sudden choice to duck into the next alleyway and crouch behind the nearest bin, peaking out just enough to watch for the assassin.
The soggy tapping of feet got progressively closer and closer to his hiding spot and his whole body tensed like a cat waiting for a mouse, only he was definitely the mouse in this situation, an armed and dangerous mouse that wouldn't go down without a fight. Lastly he silently untucks the knife from his boots and holds it close to his body- ready to pounce.
He sucked in one last breath and the figure neared the corner, only to see a young western looking man with earphones in and his hood up walk passed the mouth of the alleyway- he was scared of a teenager, this was just proof that his paranoia was ridiculously high (as if the cotton ball wasn't enough proof). Slumping against the moss covered wall he put his head into his hands and gripped at the hair on the sides of his head, his mind vaguely registering the clank of his knife hitting the floor.
He just focused on settling his breathing down...
Breath in 1, 2, 3... breath out 1, 2, 3. He carried this on until he could open his eyes and the wall in front of him wasn't blurry anymore (he really has no clue how long it took). Finally he scrubbed the ends of his sleeves into his eyes and stood up feeling present on earth again, making sure to collect his weapon.
Looking up he realises the sky has taken on the typical orange hue indicating the setting sun- his anxiety ridden mind is seriously struggling to work out how long he'd been recovering (definitely too long).
Forcing shaky legs to move one at a time he makes his way out of the alleyway deciding to make his way away from the park and back to his room for the night. His head feels incredibly fuzzy as he stumbles down the street- he probably looks like a drug addict but that's not something he's too concerned about (it means hopefully no one will bother him on his journey back to his bed).
Before he knows it he's walking along the canal that weaves its way through the middle of the village, only slowing to duck sideways under the heavy stone bridges scattered along the way. If he remembers correctly he's about a half an hour walk away from the motel so he tugs the hood of his jacket up (his damp hair causing him to shiver quite a lot), shoves his hands into his pockets and quickens his pace- sleeping sounds heavenly right about now.
After about ten minutes of walking his solemn thoughts are interrupted by a door suddenly slamming open causing him to freeze in place. Nothing exciting emerges, just an angry sounding lady carrying a bin bag emerges from her house onto the canal in front of him.
The first thing that hits him about her is her horrible posture- Genji would've compared her to that ancient Disney movie set in France. She's dressed in typical "old people clothes" (purple t-shirt, pink knee length skirt, tan tights, the world's ugliest brown slippers and a knitted scarf to complete the ensemble). Her hair's pulled into a strict bun that gives the Shimada vague flashbacks to his maths tutor.
Hanzo's perfectly willing to wait for a chance to shuffle around her and carry on his way... until he sees the bag move.
"What do you have there?" He asked because he couldn't just keep his mouth shut apparently, his eyes widened slightly when the woman's force glare landed on him.
"What is it to you chinky?" Came her heavily accented response, he ignored the slur (he'd heard more than enough during his exile) "just be on your way".
"I was about to until i saw that bag move, what's in there?" He dreaded it being a child, he knows he isn't a good person but he's aware there's worse people out there.
"A fuckin' mongrel that i don't fuckin' want around!" She yells as she shifts her weight back, getting ready to throw the bag into the canal.
"Wait!" He says before he can even think about it and the woman gives him a side glance "I'll take it off you?" He reasons, a whine comes from the bag. The woman sighs and turns to face him before sighing.
"This thing took my prize girl from me, she died in labour" her daughter died in labour? "And it's all that fuckin' farmer's fault! The bastard!" As she rants she swings the bag around it time with her hand gestures causing Hanzo to tense painfully "it doesn't deserve to live".
Then time seems to slow down as the woman movs to throw the bag, Hanzo rushes forward without a second thought. He ends up pushing the woman as he wraps his arms around the bag as he too falls to the ground. He quickly stumbles to his feet as he moves into a sprint away from the woman.
"Get fuckin' back here chink!" He hears as he runs down the canal in the direction of his motel room.
—————————————————————————————
He doesn't stop moving until the motel room door is securely locked behind him, he's forced to breath deeply through his nose to slow his heart rate down. He sets the bag down onto his bed as he can see little legs kicking at the plastic barrier, the quicker he gets it out of there the better- hell decide what to do with it later.
Taking his knife from his boot for the second time that day he begins to cut the bag open with precision only gained from years of training. The thing (for lack of a better term) stayed stock still during the whole process so Hanzo had to give it some credit as he continues to cut around the knot of the bag. It didn't take too long to create an entrance to the bag so he places his knife on the bed and takes a calming breath before opening up the bag.
At first glance it looks like an empty bag, he moves to put his hand into the bag (surely it can't be healthy to stay in a bin bag, right?) but a small whimper can be heard- it's scared and he cant really blame it. The run here alone must've been traumatising.
Not wanting to frighten it anymore he sits by the pillows of the bed and waits, it'll come out in its own time he reassures himself. So he sits there with half his mind keeping an eye on the bag and the other half wandering off into his own thought process.
Soon the bag starts to wriggle around and Hanzo briefly fears that it'll wriggle its way off the edge so he leans over and places a hand on top of it, it stops wriggling. He notices the slice he made in the bag start to open- looks like its feeling ready to say hello. The first part to show itself is a little shiny black blob- is it a nose? Followed by a dark furry snout.
"Come on then" he speaks in his kindest more encouraging voice (the same one he'd use when he was helping Genji with homework) and that seems to do the trick as soon enough a whole head emerge to reveal... a dog, or more accurately a puppy. Well that's a surprise- to be perfectly honest he's released it isn't a human baby, they're disgusting and loud and a pain to be around in general. With a perfectly steady hand he tugs the puppy from its plastic prison to get a good look at it.
It's tiny, not even half the length of Hanzo's forearm. He realised that "it" is actually a "she" as she worms her way around the bed. She has two pricked ear that stand proudly on top of her streamline skull, her muzzle is narrower than a German Shepherds but not quite as thin as a Doberman's and that same muzzle has two rows of needle like white teeth lining it. Her coat is quite a sight, her back's mostly black with a blonde belly and her legs fading from the black into blonde feet.
He huffed out a soft laugh at her shenanigans causing her to whip her heard around to face him, her eyes are quite striking- a light brown (he might even call it hazel).
Overall she's a gorgeous little dog- shame he cant keep her. It's not safe for a dog to be a part of his life, dogs need to settle in a safe environment (something he just can't provide). He knows there isn't an animal shelter in this village but the next village over is bigger so in theory would have one that would take her in, she'd get adopted by a nice family ad live a good life, sounds perfect.
The only downside to that is her breeding, now Hanzo may not be an expert of breeds of dog but he knows a Belgian Malinois when he sees one. His great-great grandfather had ordered Japanese Akita dogs to be trained to walk to perimeter with guards to keep the castle safe from intruders and they did an excellent job (young Hanzo was terrified them but he'll never admit that) however, that changed when his grandfather made a trip to America and brought back five Belgian Malinois pups- bred to work in the military- to be trained to replace the Akitas. Hanzo was fascinated by them and watched every training session he could, much to his father's dismay.
The Malis were short lived as once his father became the Scion he ordered them all to be destroyed as "the Shimada castle's safety should not rest on the shoulders on mongrels". It was a sad day when five gun shots rang out in the forest.
He doesn't know what she's crossed with but he knows the Malis have an innate biting instinct which makes them fit for military work but therefore makes them difficult to rehome- he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
A whine breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks at the puppy to see that she's stopped wriggling next to his thigh and has started licking it- she must be hungry.
He rises from the bed and walks over to the mini fridge by the door to remind himself of what food he's got in: a box of cereal bars, an apple, a carton of goat's milk (on sale don't judge) and a tub of brownies... his mother would be soooo proud.
Pulling out his phone he quickly looks up "emergency food for puppies" and of course it came up with puppy food (which he doesn't have right now) so he kept digging until he came across an article stating that dogs can drink milk but goats milk is better and safer than cows milk. For once the universe is working in his favour.
Being resourceful he pulls out his water bottle and takes off the screw cap and pours a little bit of the milk into in a sets it on the floor. Next he gently lifts up the wiggly pup and sets her next to the cap watching in amusement as she practically inhales it, he refills the cap twice before deciding that's enough for her tonight; he'll pick up some proper food to last her until the next village over tomorrow.
He rearranges some furniture and bags to corner a section of the room off so she can sleep safely and takes the blanket from the bed and creates a nest for her, she'll be sleeping better than he will at this rate. He's about to take his soaking jacket off when he realises she'll need a toilet break or she'll be up all night, great. He vaguely wonders if he'll need a lead for her but remembers that he can run much faster than her stubby little legs can carry her.
After picking her up and tucking her into his jacket he carries her down to a little patch of grass behind the motel, almost as soon as he sets her down she relieves herself, poor thing must've been desperate. He gives her a gentle "good girl: and a scratch behind the ear when she waddles back to his feet.
Once they're both back in the room he deposits the Mali in her half-assed nest (he watches with a smile as she yawns and snuggles into the blanket), peels of his jacket and flops onto his bed not even bothering to change.
Hanzo can safety say that's the fastest he's ever fallen asleep in almost a decade.