HELLO PEOPLE =D

Lumie is back, after a woefully long break. I have been really behind my updating schedule - but I had a dental surgery, followed by a bout of food poisoning, and the doctors all recommended I rest myself and not use the Internet/laptop too much... Anyhow, it's all well and good now, so on with the show! :)

I figure this update would tie up this arc. Although to be very honest, I'm not sure if I ought to end it right here, or add in another chapter. I'm leaning more towards the former, because then, I can avoid some of the filler stuff to come later. I really don't want my readers to feel bored in any update, hence I'm careful about chapter lengths... Nevertheless, any feedback on this front (the pacing of the chapters and the content) would be greatly appreciated :)

To the wonderful people to reviewed - a great big thank you! :D

Westcoast Witchdoctor - Hehee, thanks xD I doubt I could fit that in, since it's quite further up the timeline... Or maybe not... Hmm... I'll definitely think about it xD

Minarvia - Thanks for reviewing! :) I haven't checked those out - but I actually have that in mind for Jehan (my OC) - the reason she's wary of and keeps distance from Sonya and the SF is because she fears they might test her out or do experiments and stuff - she does have internal healing powers... But I'll check those out soon :)

PunkRoseBlitz - Awww thank you! And another potential Captain/Kenshi shipper xD Well, don't worry, the swordsman's gonna stay loyal to his late lady love, and not my confused Captain (she'll get her boy soon - and its another OC) xD And thanks SO much for the latter - I always feel a chapter is lacking if there's no action in it, as if its filler O_O But glad to see you liked it! :'D

BrutusSilentium - Oh wow, man. I love you - and YOU sir, are greatness! xD

iceangelmkx - I totally agree with your view on Hanzo's families name thing.. Boon and Co. have short term memories, what else can I say x_x Anyhow, here's the long-awaited meet-up, so I hope you enjoy this too! Thanks for the lovely words 3

PinkRedRose2 - Wow, thanks so much for your words! I'm glad you're enjoying this, I'm doing my best and such words do a lot of good to my confidence and writing! Please keep reading, and reviewing! :D

Also many thanks to the wonderful people who have favourited this - I'd love to hear from y'all as well! :D

NOTE: As always, thoughts and flashbacks are in ITALICS :)

Now, without any further ado -

DISCLAIMER - All characters belong to their rightful owners. And thus, all OCs are mine.

THE TAKAHASHI FAMILY SAGA

OF A FATHER'S FOLLY

III

The Shirai Ryu Temple,

Classified Location,

Japan -

12.41AM

The blessings from a few paper dolls were evidently not enough to quell the grieving heavens. It poured with a ferocity rarely seen before - and somewhere in the back of his mind, Takeda feared they might have to deal with flash flooding if it continued to rain the way it did.

But that errant thought was overpowered by other raging, destructive ideas – ones that consumed the soul with an anguish that paralleled the skies above - and soon was lost underneath a tidal wave of emotions the young fighter had suppressed for far too long.

Drenched to the bone, the younger Takahashi practised with a sharpened katana, its blade glittering like molten silver in the pale light of the stars. The inner courtyard was deserted entirely, illuminated only by the raging lightning, glistening wet and cold as death.

The katana continued to shine through – the bereaved Shirai Ryu fighter executing the entirety of its movements, from quick stabs to wide-arced slashes, in aggressive but controlled motions – a dancing lightshow of a young, forsaken heart.

The heart. The foolish, childish heart – still bent on attaining normalcy, still yearning to be loved.

Forgetting how easily that his was a meaningless existence, an unwanted existence. Simmering just beneath the skin – had he really been this blind? To not recognise the very curse of his existence.

Teeth gritted in a grimace, arms aching with effort, and the mind – a warzone painted red with the death of his own self.

The words exchanged with his grandmaster during their argument before played endlessly in his mind. And despite it all, Takeda was glad for the rain – it erased the tracks of his own emotional outpour.

'Grandmaster… Who was Jubei?'

Gold-coloured eyes widened, glaring at him with such an intensity, Takeda feared his very soul would be snatched out from his body.

'Where-did-you-hear-that-name-boy?'

The rage was barely concealed, the tone threatening. Hanzo could have strangled him at this point – but Takeda knew this was the only time they would have this conversation.

'Today… At the doorway… I heard voices, talking… that's when I heard-'

'Hasashi, Jubei.' Hanzo's eyes glazed with memory, his voice low, and controlled: 'His name, was Hasashi Jubei.'

'Your-your son? From all those years ago…'

Hanzo had nodded his affirmation…

The practice dummy lay dismantled and forgotten long ago. Takeda had attacked it with unbound ferocity; sometimes thinking it to be his father, sometimes the various attackers, sometimes Fox, and of course… Hanzo himself.

His muscles began to scream as he continued without pause, executing the oft-practised kata with clean precision. Agility and speed were always his fortes; but this passion, the underlying strength laid bare in times of life and death – this was new to Takeda.

Bloodlust.

Unbeknownst to him, he had become a warrior with a very keen taste for blood. He thirsted for it, the same way his blade did…

'Part of me wants to know what voices you heard… but at the same time, I do not wish to hear it, nor speak of this ever again…' Hanzo's threat was confused, but the domineering ninja stared down his student, perhaps hoping his stature would speak where words failed him.

Not tonight, however.

'But I do, Master. It is as much about me, as it is about you…'

And then, Hanzo's voice played in his mind, his secret confession uttered in a moment of weakness, as Takeda trespassed in ways he did not yet understand:

'I see my Jubei in you, but you can never be my own…'

These words stood in between them, not spoken, not whispered – but with a life, an existence of their own. The proverbial elephant in the room…

'After all these years, I have nothing but you, and this clan to call my own. But what you thought …' Fists clenched, eyes tearing, Takeda stood up and asked the one question that had been the foundation of his confusions, and fears – all this time:

'Would you abandon me in an instant too, like my bastard-father did?'

'Takeda!'

'I have to know, Grandmaster! This clan's my family, and you're the closest thing I have to a-'

'Don't-Takeda! Don't give it a name… Don't give it that name!' Hanzo stood now, palms open faced, but his entire body wrought with tension. He breathed in deeply, before continuing in a calmer voice:

'I swore to Kenshi that I would not divulge his secrets to you; and I plan to keep my word, come what may. But know, that he had very important reasons for all that he did. Do you understand that, Takeda? It is the word of a warrior, and it must be honour-'

'There's no honour when it comes to him, Master!' Spat Takeda bitterly. 'First, he abandoned my mother, leaving her alone to raise me… I was there, and I saw how hard it was for her!' he had roared, glimpses of a childhood bereft of innocence, flashing in his eyes…

'And then, when the chance came, he got rid of me too! Bolted like a cowardly dog the night he told me of her death – as if I could take that news in stride like the heartless man himself! I needed a father the most at that time, Master! But he never wanted us – he never wanted me!'

In Kenshi's sightless eyes, he was worth nothing.

In his darkened heart, he was worth nothing.

In his blackest thoughts –

Takeda missed a step, slipped, and came crashing down on his knees – his body racking with silent sobs as he hung his head to his chest, quivering beneath the emotional onslaught rendered by bitter memories.

Tears had burned in his eyes, and his voice was on the cusp of breaking.

'And even If he had such honourable reasons, then why the secrecy?! What could have made him leave his broken child in the middle of the night?'

Hanzo had crossed his arms over his chest, and exhaled slowly.

'I cannot answer your questions Takeda. But I will not rob you, nor your father of the truth. You are my student and you shall remain so – and when you become Chujin, I will then decide the best course of action for you.'

The cool, callous tone – one used with complete strangers - had cut daggers into Takeda's heart; ripping it to pieces as it beat, broken, inside a heaving chest...

The night clouds laid claim to the weaning moonlight, until the entirety of the Shirai Ryu compound plunged into complete darkness. Thunder rolled across the sky, the incredible sound waves making the entire area quake. As if the heavens had somehow embraced the fighter's grief and rage, roaring with the silent pain in his stead. Rain water hit, and rolled off of his hunched shoulders – unrelenting in their agony.

Takeda paused when the last of the moon rays disappeared, his own haggard breathing raging in his ears, his heart beating powerfully in his throat. With the katana lowered, he stood up again.

The pause made him wonder - if such darkness can make him stop in the middle of his practise, then what would Kenshi's life be, with his darkness as his constant companion?

His lips curled into a humourless, bitter sneer, as he realised that the son of a bitch who had the misfortune of siring him, would never find a modicum of happiness, or contentment in any way. Not with his blindness. Not with the curse that plagued him.

It was funny, how the elder gods worked their way around things.

But then again - Kenshi's blindness had little to do with him.

Lightning flashed again, and surrounded by the dark, effervescing glow of the receding light, he inhaled deeply, and continued his routine again, as his final words rang in his own ears…

'Master… I respect your beliefs, even if I don't understand, nor agree with them. But at this point, I'm old enough to think for myself, and name myself. And I'm not asking for much… just to hear me, and believe me for once, when I say this-'

'Sit down, boy-'

'You were wrong earlier. I am not your Jubei, and I can never be. My name, is Takahashi Takeda. And even if you don't want to lend me that recognition, or call me your own, I will always think of you as the only father I've ever had.'

'Takedaa-'

He raised himself, and slashed the sword diagonally in powerful movements with both hands, causing his whole body to jump up with each slash. He pictured his father's dead, desecrated body, bleeding from his wounds in his mind's eye, and Takeda felt his rage take total control, the madness become a welcoming refuge.

Eventually his movements became reckless, and slurred, as he thought of his own intentions, voiced earlier to his horrified Grandmaster, before he stomped out from his audience in a brazen manner:

'And believe me Master Hasashi… If I ever see that deadbeat scoundrel again in my life, I'll slit his throat myself, for everything he put me through…'

CLANG!

Takeda's flying katana met with another blade in the dark, the resulting metallic noise jolting the young Shirai Ryu out from his dark reveries.

Cerulean eyes glowed a molten silver, as he felt the temperature suddenly drop again by a few degrees. One arm held out, while the other held the katana alert, he narrowed his eyes and tried to seek out his opponent – more than aware of the fact that he had let his guard down, and was now not alone.

A red apparition appeared - armoured, and of approximately the same stature as his own. It threw up its own weapon in the air as it flexed its arms, while the katana completed its rotation in a lazy arc, and returned to his hands. The ancestral sword glowed red from mended cracks, and in the pitch dark of the night, it reflected ominously, marred with crimson.

Takeda recognised the Sento, if not its wielder - and nearly voiced out his surprise.

Lightning and thundered flashed then once more – with a deafening roar, and a blinding flash that seemed to stretch eternities, illuminating everything in sight, as if caught in the middle of the day.

It was an apparition all right, and Takeda felt anger course through his veins as he slowly recognised to whom it belonged. A pale red glow emanated from the spirit, but despite the changed features, the katana and the blindfold gave away its identity…

He had seen it before – back in Skardu, and coastal Japan. So many years ago; it almost seemed like a distant dream - one that made him doubt his own mind for a small second.

It wasn't until the being spoke – the same calm, steady inflection of the voice that betrayed any amount of fear, or joy - that forgotten memories, words, sensations and emotions all came to fore in a startling manifestation; bringing to life all the pain Takeda had tried to bury all through the past eight years…

He felt nauseous all of a sudden, and the splitting migraine returned with a vengeance of its own.

"Yes - It is me, son. But why stop now? Didn't you want to kill me?"

"Where are you hiding, you bastard?! Come out and face me like a man!" Takeda screamed angrily, tears of frustration rolling down his eyes.

The pelting rain bled into his bloodshot eyes, but he dared not blink – lest this pathetic version of his weak father vanish before his eyes.

The moon overcame the dark clouds, and pale light allowed the young warrior to focus on his supposed enemy.

The apparition turned its head, and faced Takeda – the glowing red blindfolded gaze piercing in its silent judgement. It said nothing, and the young Shirai Ryu suddenly felt there was no need for words. He felt exposed stark to this being, all prior rage confused in the face of another internal storm.

He had something else coming.

"Wield a katana with this many distractions raging through your mind, and you'll be dead before the opponent's strikes thrice."

It raised the mended Sento once again, pointing the blade at Takeda, expression sombre, and utterly unreadable.

"Try again, son."

"I AM NOT YOUR SON!"

With a fiery cry, Takeda lunged towards him, his sword held high above his head in a splitting attack. The apparition deftly side-stepped, bringing the Sento in a graceful semi-circle, before the blades met, steel on steel. Takeda withdrew and tried again, bringing his sword from one side, then another, only to be met with strong blocking maneuvers, that always sent him tumbling back.

Spinning gracefully, the crimson apparition sliced its katana downward, cutting Takeda below the knee. Wincing with pain, Takeda fell onto the ground on the other knee. Within seconds, another quick blow struck, this time from the opposite direction - crashed against his hand, sending the Shirai Ryu's sword skidding several metres back.

Disarmed and on all fours, Takeda breathed heavily with teeth bared, feeling the sweat mix in with the raindrops as it poured down his back, his robes clinging tightly to his body. He patted down his knee, only to find that despite the tear in his clothing, there was no laceration, nor any blood from the supposed injury. The pain, moreover, also seemed to be abating to nothingness.

Wary, and breathless, Takeda glanced up at the spirit – watching the rain go through its translucent body, as he vaguely wondered if his father wasn't already dead, rotting in some ditch or elsewhere – or whether he was hallucinating entirely.

The apparition sheathed its sword, and crouched, so that it was face to face with the young fighter.

"You can fight to survive, but you've yet to learn to rein in your thoughts in battle, Takeda. Focus. That's the only way you could truly inflict defeat."

"I'll show you defeat!" Takeda launched a fist straight at the apparition, only for it to block the punch, while grabbing the fighter's forearm, and twisting it harshly behind his back. The boy screamed with agony as he felt the ligaments in his elbow tear from the arm-lock.

The duo stayed in this position for several long seconds, until the pain disappeared entirely; the phantom of a father, inflicting phantom wounds that left no mark, nor any pain.

"No - You are not ready, yet… Not for this, not for the future…"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Takeda roared back. The spirit unhanded him that second – and Takeda began to immediately check for injuries – again, finding none.

Kenshi's apparition did not give a reply. Instead, seated on its knees, it placed two gentle hands beside his temple. Despite Takeda's receding form, the feather-like grip compelled him to stop, almost paralysing in its touch.

"It's all right… This will help you, but it will hurt a little…"

And the fact that he spoke the words right into his mind, without moving his lips.

Takeda's eyebrows shot up in terror, and he tried to move away from the apparition – but the red glow from spirit-being had now spread from his hands, into his face – and his mind felt like it was being crushed under the weight of hydraulic pressures he had once read about, tearing his thoughts and memories, while his body remained stiff and powerless – thoroughly estranged from the torture on the mind.

"WHY?! LET GO OF ME—"

"For you – your safety, your life, my son…"

The words seemed familiar, and Takeda felt himself experience a vague sense of déjà vu. Like a haunted lullaby, a forgotten promise…

A moment later, the apparition withdrew its hands – gold and crimson sparking all around the duo. Takeda groaned with pain, only being able to muster a small cry as he felt his vision dotted with red and white spots, his heart thundering in his head as he weakly clutched his forehead. The effects of the spirit's … magik, Takeda presumed, began to wean off, but he was far too exhausted, both physically and emotionally to put up with anything further. He collapsed, his back to the apparition, his head rolling back onto the spirit's shoulder.

Kenshi's face, now smiling sadly, swam in his eyes, as his lids felt heavy, the black closing in on him. Takeda felt a cold caress on his cheek – before a voice rang in his mind:

"We'll be together again, in flesh and blood, son… Only when you're ready… That is a promise..."

The last Takeda remembered, was being hauled up on someone's shoulder, finding his place in the heart of darkness, before he slipped into complete unconsciousness.

Hanzo laid down the boy carefully at his futon, wiping his face with a rag, as Kenshi unbuttoned his dripping robe, took off his wet shoes and cast them aside, lest the student caught a cold. Takeda sighed with his eyes closed, indicating he was breathing normally – and both the Grandmaster and his blind ally sighed with relief, as they covered him in a warm blanket.

"Are you sure you were not too hard on him, swordsman?" asked Hanzo carefully, while silently disproving of Takeda's midnight antics, practicing during such a rainstorm after their argument.

Kenshi's eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, as he only had his silence to offer as a reply at first. Wiping his own brow, he inhaled deeply, and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his knees.

"I have never tried to blockade telepathy and telekinesis in anyone before – I had counsel from the Sento however, on how to do this…" He slowly shook his head in thought. "His telepathy comes across strong, like an enclosed fire. He would have torn himself apart without proper instruction on how to manage it. I think he will be fine – just a little lightheaded for a few days…"

"I see," Hanzo returned gruffly, as he took a seat on the opposite side of the sleeping student, facing Kenshi directly.

"Are you all right? You nearly passed out yourself, staying out from your body so long—"

"Spirit energy, Hanzo. It wasn't me out there, merely a projection. But equally taxing, all the same," Kenshi sighed himself, suddenly feeling exhausted after a long bout of travelling, compounded by the current ordeal.

"There is some food in the pantry. A simple meal – to be honest. As always, you came in without sending word of your arrival, so we don't have anything special prepared for you," Hanzo said with a small smile.

Kenshi let out a quiet chuckle – "Old habits die hard, Hanzo. This time though, I did not bring any unwanted guests to your door."

"Thankfully so – I'm shorthanded already, as you know."

The duo wholeheartedly agreed, laying grounds for a comfortable conversation much later. Hanzo exited a while later, to brew tea for both of them – leaving the father and son alone, after what seemed like an eternity.

'Suchin, if only you could see him… He's grown so much - almost as tall as I am…'

Kenshi's mouth lifted in a corner in a wistful smile, unseen tears pricking his eyes underneath his tattered blindfold, as he gently caressed his son's wet locks away from his face. Eventually, he too closed his eyes, and just reflected…

How wide was the chasm that separated them now? Deeper than the oceans… How far the distance in between them? A million miles – light years?

If only one could quantify it – give it a name, an indicator, a characteristic. Measure it in some way…

What if it was beyond such notions? Or worse – the damage irreversible? The space separating them an unending abyss, that he had lost his son, in the midst of it all…

That in a bid to protect him, he had lost everything…

Kenshi leaned back, and sighed tiredly. It was one thing to lament a decision or a choice in private, and quite another to confront the aftermath of one upfront.

'… that deadbeat scoundrel…'

'… I'll slit his throat myself…'

'…I AM NOT YOUR SON!…'

The echoing voices humiliated him in his own eyes, while the pain in his heart felt as if it had been stabbed by knives. The boy had yet to learn how acutely words could cut – or in his case, kill entirely.

No. He was not confronting anything. Just taking the backdoor out again, once more. In silence. In hiding – 'like a cowardly dog' - precisely as his son had put earlier. An astute observer, just like his mother was…

He smelt the aroma of jasmine tea long before Hanzo eventually entered the room with it. Wordlessly, the ninja poured him a steaming cup – one that the swordsman graciously accepted with a bow, allowing the ceramic cup to warm his covered fingers.

"How long has it has been, Hanzo?" he asked after a long, heavy pause.

The Shirai Ryu grandmaster closely regarded his friend, and did not answer immediately. Without the blindfold, he would not have recognised the aging warrior. His hair streaked with gray, a patchy beard askew – and a gaunt-like face that was a shadow of his former, younger self.

To be able to grow old, to become closer to embracing death – and reunite with the departed. What a gift of life, Hanzo sighed inwardly – silently envious of Kenshi's sheer humanity.

"Eight years, Earthrealm-time," he answered soberly. "But much too long if you ask me, Kenshi."

Kenshi nodded, lost in thought. "How is he?"

Hanzo smiled as he saw in his old friend, despite the fresh creases on his face – the eerie resemblance to his student. The same narrow, but sharp jaw, straight nose, broad shoulders and height. He had no doubts the eyes behind the blindfold too, were Takeda's eyes, now fixated inquisitively on him.

"Your very reflection, swordsman."

Kenshi raised an eyebrow, his mouth curved in a skeptical smile. "Why does everyone tell me that?"

"You have reason to doubt his heritage?"

"No. But I seem to have lost every right to call him my own…"

The clap of distant thunder filled the small silence that fell in between them. Until Kenshi began, morose and with little effort to disguise his own pain -

"He hates me, doesn't he?"

Hanzo was caught off-guard at the question, as his heart softened at the sight of the distraught man, one who doubted his own fatherhood, and seemed to fail at keeping his own anxieties at bay, or even mundane the most basic of niceties.

"You have fallen silent, Hasashi," he noted softly after a while.

"Does it make a difference? You have probably read my mind," Hanzo answered, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Telepathy, unfortunately, cannot open up your heart to me," Kenshi finally raised his head, and regarded Hanzo face-to-face. Like a man preparing himself for an ensuing battle – but he had no idea there was none coming his way.

The tables had been turned: the spectre felt nothing but pity for the swordsman this night.

"Don't, Hanzo - as they say, every dog has its day. I'm merely waiting for mine," quipped Kenshi sharply in reply to the thought, with a knowing smirk. The underlying message clear – the ninja was not immune to the defeated telepath's mental surveillance.

Hanzo frowned gravely, finding no humour at this absurd game of cat and mouse. "Takeda, in many ways, was robbed of a childhood, Kenshi," he began carefully. "He is confused, angry – and he suppresses it all –"

"He lusts after patricide, Hanzo. I know that – you don't have to hide anything."

"And wouldn't you, if you were in his position?" Hanzo countered, eyes narrowing in accusation. "The boy had everything he had ever known and loved, his family, his clan, snatched from him – yet he persisted, and fought – and survived, Kenshi. Would you rob him of his anger at all that befell him too?"

The undertone, not voiced, not even thought in words within Hanzo's mind, struck clear to Kenshi – that not only was he responsible for Takeda's painful upbringing, but that he had robbed him again – of a father.

Accepting all blamely silently, Kenshi raised his head and steeled himself, before calming himself down.

"Anger, serves no purpose, Hanzo. In battle, it clouds judgement – elsewhere, it destroys the essence of life itself…" He made a fist of a gloved hand, as he spoke – letting his fist open and the rage evanesce into air, as if it was something that could be controlled.

"But my vengeance fuels me, Kenshi. It is my life – the reason for existence –"

"Anger, has nothing to do with vengeance, Hanzo. Vengeance, is about honour. Retribution. Anger, is merely self-gratification, in ways that detriment you, and yourself alone. The worst of one's enemies, whispering sweet nothings, right beneath the skin…"

Hanzo nodded as he took in the swordsman's words, quietly sipping his tea, as a comfortable silence fell in between them.

Kenshi sighed, and broke it, turning his head as he gravely regarded Hanzo:

"You must teach him to be calm, to use his reason, Hanzo… Cultivate his mind, think critically, and clearly. He can never go wrong, if he learns to control his emotions…"

Hanzo paused abruptly. "Kenshi, are you not here to take him back?"

He saw the storm of emotions raging on the swordsman's face – through the tight jaw, and tense shoulder muscles, the bending of the head in resignation, the frown lines beside his mouth. The battle fought and lost – the emotions losing out to reason, as visible as the sun in the sky.

"No. He isn't ready… Not for the truth, not yet…"

The Shirai Ryu Grandmaster felt a wave of relief wash over him, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders – as he momentarily paused in surprise, at his own reaction to Takeda's staying.

"He is training to be Chujin, and well deserves to be. I have yet to see an adept as swift and brutal as he is in his duels," Hanzo nodded, as he briefly reflected on Takeda's technique and battle-prowess to his father, as well as his weaknesses. For some time, they discussed his fighting techniques, Kenshi's reminiscing of his own days as a young swordsman, garnering similar feedback until he ultimately, paid a very steep price for his mistakes.

"He is a proud fighter, the boy – an innovative one too," Hanzo countered logically, "but all he's ever known, is to fight so he could survive. If not that, then to gain knowledge, to perfect technique. And he has much to pride himself on, but he's got none of the arrogance you claimed to once have…"

Kenshi nodded in agreement, entirely: "He's got many of his mother's traits in that regard, and I'm thankful of that," he said slowly. "Patience… Kindness… Curiosity…"

Hanzo put his cup away, and sat up straighter. It was well past midnight now, the downpour had ceased somewhat, but dark clouds still blocked the light from the stars – casting the surrounding wilderness and hills in utter darkness.

Dawn, would chase it away, soon enough.

"But discipline, is key…" murmured Kenshi, more to himself than to his companion… "He needs to discipline himself…"

"We all do, one way or another," offered Hanzo, staring at the tea leaves in his now empty cup. "One cannot run away from their blood forever, Takahashi. His wounds will be cut open, again – the pain greater than ever now – but only then can he heal truly…"

"As will I…" Kenshi sighed softly, setting down his cup. "I may never figure out how to pay you back in this life, my friend…"

"The debt, is only mine to pay, swordsman."

Kenshi gently wagged a finger in denial, his head tilted towards Takeda as he slept, blissfully unaware of the happenings around him.

Hanzo took in the picture of the father and son, and felt the bittersweet moment arrest his own heart for a moment.

"One cannot run away from their blood forever, Kenshi. Just as I see you as the boy's true father, he will accept you as well; only in time…"

"The eyes that see can be deceived, Hanzo," replied Kenshi, feeling a vague sense of déjà vu – as if he had uttered the same words, in similar circumstances again, to someone – what seemed like a lifetime ago…

Kenshi paused before continuing: "But I have no doubt in my mind either – about who Takeda's true father is…"

Kenshi was oddly relieved the spectre had none of his telepathy. But he still felt he owed the Grandmaster an admission to what he truly felt: that until Takeda saw him as one, Kenshi's fatherhood was nothing but air. Meaningless words to fill for a hollow that would never fill out.

It all rested on this young, sleeping boy. For all the pain he inflicted on his child, Kenshi knew he was in many ways, greatly indebted to his own son too…

"I have been a stranger long enough to him – and I'll remain one, for as long as is required… It'll be easier that way… for both us…"

Hanzo paused, and closely regarded the grave expression on the swordsman's face, and the unspoken words that surrounded them, the despondency permeating from the defeated man. It was then, that he realised the extent of suffering Kenshi had gone through, and how profoundly the yearning for his son ran.

After all – it takes one to know one.

And perhaps more than ever that night, Hanzo felt how similar the swordsman was to him. How their griefs were congruent; the emotions that arrested them, basal, primal – utterly human.

Seeing how their meeting drew towards closure, the spectre interjected one last time – speaking in lieu for his student - knowing what painful truth that awaited him once his tutelage was complete.

"I have, a favour to ask of you – for your son's sake, Kenshi…"

The lengths a man has to go, for the sake of those close to his heart…

"Anything, Hanzo."

The ninja breathed deeply, before levelling a steady gaze the telepath's way. "You have spent your life fighting evil, and those who destroy innocent lives. But your vengeance against the Red Dragon, is not wholly your own."

"What do you mean, Hanzo?"

"Do not rob Takeda of his rightful vengeance against his mother's killers. Her death did not affect you alone – and the boy deserves to be among those who bring the Red Dragon to justice."

A small, awkward silence fell between them, until Kenshi let out a low, humourless laugh – as the Grandmaster frowned in disapproval.

"It all makes sense now, Hasashi," Kenshi answered, once his paltry mirth subsided. It had been in front of him, this whole time - the very reason why he had came so close, on multiple occasions, but always failed to eliminate the syndicate all these years…

"You understand vengeance perhaps far better than I do, Hanzo. Fate has shown me, time and time again, that I alone cannot uproot the evil of the Red Dragon by myself..." Then, after a thoughtful silence, he concluded in a dark tone - "My follies may be unforgivable to him, but for her sake, Suchin's son will not be derived of what rightly belongs to him..."

Hanzo folded his arms across his chest, and merely nodded in understanding.

Kenshi raised himself, so he was seated on his knees, as Takeda slept peacefully beside him. Caressing his son's hair, and patting him on the head one last time, the swordsman stood up to take his leave – with the spectre following suit.

With one hand on his shoulder, Kenshi handed a small memento in a hand, enclosing his palm on Hanzo's fists.

"In my clan, this – is earned after many a trials, Hanzo…" began Kenshi, his voice deep and low. "Give this to him, when you deem him worthy to become Chujin."

And with a quiet goodbye, he walked out again, into the devilish night, much like one would walk into a battlefield.

Hanzo saw the retreating figure, never moving his eyes from him, until the darkness swallowed his silhouette entirely. Only then, did he glance down at his closed fist, regarding the item in hand.

An old, folded white sash, with the Takahashi emblem of a roaring, crimson dragon as its sole, ancestral adornment. One of the swordsman's precious few possessions, representing his own clan of warrior-kings.

A hot flush flooded Hanzo, as it dawned on him what Kenshi had done in the quiet moments before departing – handed him an ancient heirloom to give to his son, in his place.

And in doing so – establishing, and giving consent to Hanzo's secret paternal sentiments – in truth and effect. It was not a relinquishment of a claim of fatherhood – but an acceptance, that Hanzo Hasashi was an equal to Kenshi in that regard, if not ranked higher than him.

An honour, conferred in silence, because no words could do justice to it.

Hanzo smiled, as he quietly whispered to the night - "A fitting memento, indeed, swordsman."

Phew! Glad that's over :)

So Kenshi secretly does meet his son, in a way - to help him past the outburts of telepathic energy.. I felt this was necessary, to develop both Hanzo and Takeda.. And also, because I refuse to believe Kenshi would not have tried to meet Takeda even once during his time at the Shirai Ryu. This is just my interpretation of how it'd go down..

But of course, our angsty young angry man is not yet ready. I have zero experience writing angry young men, let alone those with abandonment issues - so special thoughts on what you all made of this would be appreciated! (I fear Takeda may be a bit too OTT here.. But then, he's only sixteen here, and boys struggle with emotions as it is :/)

As for Hanzo, well... Hanzo wins in this arc :) He's fully validated, in his thoughts - and Kenshi conveys that to him in an unspoken manner.. as I feel how seasoned warriors would convey stuff. I mean... IDK man, I tried X_X

I don't have any special references for this, apart from the fact that I had the Sky Temple location in MKX on my mind as I wrote Takeda's fight scene.. What a lovely stage... :')

As always - anything you liked, anything you hated, or anything you feel could be done better - please click the review button and let me know how this was! Thanks for reading, enjoy! :D