THE HEIR
Singapore was no longer the same. Before his eyes, the city he had once visited as a child looked nothing like he remembered it. Buildings and skyscrapers had proliferated like colossal fingers, struggling to reach the purplish sky, suffocating by their disproportion the structures at their feet. These giants of glass and metal stretched around the business district, as well as the historic downtown of the city-state, which lay under their shadow. In just over a decade, the heart of Singapore had been reshaped like most Asian megacities. The "garden city" had seen many of its natural parks disappear and be replaced by residential buildings or luxury hotels.
The city had been denatured. The buildings with coloured neon outlines, covered with holographic images of derisory products, betrayed the old life of the place and made it look like any Asian city. The facades of those structures were filled with bright and noisy advertising images, praising a soda, a cereal brand, or a local celebrity he didn't recognize. On the side of one building, he saw an animated creature, with the body of a lion and a fish tail, promoting a big fast-food restaurant. He remembered the story his father had told him about this creature and its connection to Singapore. A former prince, who had fled his city under attack from a neighboring kingdom, had stopped on an island where he had met a strange creature, which he thought was a lion. Later, he decided to establish a city at the very spot where he had encountered the animal. According to legends, this was the origin of Singapore, the "city of the lion".
The city-state had, over the years, prided itself on this heritage. As a true maritime junction, between the West and the East, it had erected as its emblem a creature half lion and half fish: the Merlion. At the estuary of the Singapore River, a white stone statue of a lion with scales and a fish tail stood enthroned, spitting a long stream of water into the bay. This creature would become the city' s emblem and would represent it all over the world. A symbol tainted with tradition and history in a modern city in communion with its origins. But today, the Merlion, the legendary and emblematic creature of Singapore, had been transformed into a vulgar publicity mascot, a poorly conceived idea born from the greedy minds of ambitious executives in search of profit.
Over the side of a tower block, he saw the crazy, animated version of the Merlion shaking a can of Nano Cola, then opening it to pour the liquid over the sign, revealing the name of the soda brand and the nearest place where it could be purchased. Huge airships bearing his effigy scattered across the city's skies, displaying screens on their big bellies to broadcast programmes and other informative or advertising messages. Such practices are commonplace in his native Japan, but he never thought Singapore would stoop to this level, to the point of losing its very identity. At least, that was the memory of the city he recalled, the image his father had portrayed to him when they both went there on a business trip.
His father's work often required him to travel, and since he was old enough to learn and understand, he had to accompany him. As his heir, he would take over his father's activities upon his death and he had been raised, educated and trained for this sole purpose. So when his father had to meet several of his financial partners in Singapore, he was required to attend all meetings and exchanges. His father was a very conventional man, he respected the ways and customs of his peers. As a result, each encounter with his partners was accompanied by lengthy rituals and solemn ceremonies aimed at reaffirming his place as head of the clan and the deep bonds he had with his subordinates. He remembered the long hours spent silently attending these exchanges alongside his father, who received all the tributes and reverences.
During these gatherings, he had always felt the heavy and inquisitive eyes of the other members of the clan, who gauged and observed him, scrutinizing each of his postures, each of his expressions. His father had forced him to adopt a straight and proud stature, similar to his own: a dragon's stature, who didn't mind the snakes whistling. Beyond his training, his participation in clan meetings also had another purpose: to dissuade reckless members who would want to harm the chief of the clan. If misfortune were to befall Sojiro Shimada, it would be useless for them to hope to take over the clan leadership because he would have left behind an heir, shaped and moulded to become a man of equal caliber: a righteous and implacable authoritarian leader. He had worked on this task to the end, following the path laid out by his father and the clan elders. The very opposite of his little brother.
Sojiro had been extremely strict and uncompromising with him. This one would have hoped that it would be the same for Genji. His little brother had been schooled and trained in martial arts, especially kenjutsu. Just like him, he had been taught the way the clan worked, its mechanisms, its strengths and weaknesses, in the hope that he would be able to assist him in his task when their father passed away. But he had known for quite a long time that he could not rely on him. Genji was undisciplined, arrogant and careless since childhood.
Many years earlier, on their visit to Singapore, he had joined his father in his meetings, but Genji did as he pleased. He said that he did not want to attend the talks, that he would refuse to sit idle for so long, that he wanted to see the city gardens that he had heard so much about. His father had threatened him with punishments, but his little brother was truly stubborn. Furious and weary of his younger son's whims, Sojiro had given Genji two henchmen, two chaperones who would accompany him into town and answer all his requests. However, he had been punished. For months, he had been forced to clean the family shrine from top to bottom. Nevertheless, he remembered his little brother's victorious smile that day. Genji had obtained what he wanted. He had spent the whole day visiting Singapore, strolling through the gardens, eating ice cream and pastries, while he had to endure his father's interminable reunions. In the evening his brother had told him about all his adventures in the lion's city and he had listened, wearing a mask of indifference, hiding his bitterness. The years had passed, and the weight of responsibility had fallen heavily on his shoulders, while his brother had comforted himself in his vanity, carelessness and fancies. Henceforth, it was pointless to look back to those days. Hanzo's path had once again led him to Singapore, where a new task awaited him.
From the top of the building on which he was standing, Hanzo had a stunning view of Marina Bay and its luxury hotels as well as the penthouses on top of some of the structures. Only one in particular interested him. A tower with postmodern architecture that was much less striking than the surrounding properties, with clean, glass facades. At the very summit of this building was an opulent apartment, encompassing the top three floors of the complex. A large terrace with exotic plants, sun loungers and a swimming pool overlooked the street. Nothing very surprising in reality. All Hanzo had to do was look around, at the top of each building he could see similar flats. Yet the one he observed seemed far too common among this group of apartments. At a glance, compared to the surrounding penthouses, this luxury apartment was nothing extraordinary or remarkable, and yet that was the ingenuity of the ruse.
Hanzo took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the target housing. After a long glance at the roof of the building and its terrace, he stood on a large box that was supposed to contain the penthouse's electrical panel and the power supply for its security system. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver that was different from his other projectiles. Its tube was wider and close to its tip was an electric jammer whose red light flashed faintly. With a confident gesture, he notched the arrow and bound his bow. He stopped his breathing and cleared his mind, closing himself off from the noises of the city that rumbled around him. His eyes fell on his target. He wouldn't get a second chance. He felt the wind caressing his neck and his outstretched arms. He was an outstanding archer and therefore knew how to perfectly adjust his shots according to the power and direction of the wind. He had trained so much in this art that all those things were now natural. He fired his arrow and when he saw its trajectory, he knew that he had aimed right.
The shutdown of the terrace's watch lights proved him right. From that instant on, time was running out. Hanzo retrieved an arrow from the ground with a long cable attached to it, the other end of which he had tied to the base of a nearby antenna. With equal composure, he took the arrow to his bow and tightened the rope. The bolt whistled in the air, followed by the cable that snaked over the street. The tip of the arrow crashed into the trunk containing the electrical panel, and without wasting any time, Hanzo reached the antenna and pulled the cable to make it as tight as possible.
With a heavy pressure on the rope, he found that this should be more than enough to allow him to cross the gap between the two buildings. He pulled the straps of his quiver and zipped his jacket up to his neck. He passed his bow over the cable and hung on to each end, then, taking a running pace, he leaped.
His bow slid down the cable in a hum that would have alerted the most vigilant, but the city's bustle and the snoring of the vehicles below eclipsed it completely. Hanzo took the liberty of peeking down below. The gleam and neon lights of Singapore, illuminating avenues and streets, contrasted with the sheer darkness of the rooftops of buildings and residences. As he rapidly approached his objective, he increased his grip on his bow and prepared to let go as soon as he came within range. In a matter of seconds, he dropped himself on the penthouse roof, landing on a roll.
Without delay, Hanzo then walked to the box containing the electrical panel. He spotted his arrow piercing through the side of the container. He had no trouble opening the electrical cabinet door, forcing the lock with a thin but strong blade. Once the door opened, he found himself in front of a maze of wires, electrical boxes and fuses. He had to locate the power supply for the security system and it proved to be much easier than he thought. It was a well-hidden box, located in a corner of the trunk, which had been added much later to the overall panel. Hanzo examined the power box and ran his hands through the gaps to look for the electrical wires. After finding them, he took care to sever them one by one to completely neutralize the device.
He closed the trunk door and retrieved the arrow equipped with the electric jammer that had cut off the general power supply. His light was a faint red glow. Hanzo fumbled with the scrambler and found its switch. He paused for a moment and pressed the button. As he had hoped, the terrace lights on the lower floor came back on. Electricity seemed to be flowing back into the apartment, but he had to make sure that the security system was not. Hanzo slowly took a few steps on the roof, still with his finger on the jammer switch. His posture was the posture of a tiger on the prowl. The archer relaxed as no alarm sounded.
It was common for luxury apartments like this one to have the latest security systems that identified all potential threats for the owner and his property. If he had not taken the precaution of using the scrambler before reaching the penthouse, as soon as he arrived on the roof, the sensors would have spotted him and activated the alarm, and all this would have been in vain. However, Hanzo was very meticulous and he did not regret buying this equipment from the Singapore black market.
Hoping that this would be the last obstacle before him, Hanzo let himself fall on the terrace, not far from the swimming pool, whose glow projected bluish reflections on the walls. He carefully avoided revealing himself to the light and approached the bay windows. He knew that the apartment would be empty and that the occupant would not return for several hours. Hanzo examined the lock on the bay window and found that it was an electronic lock, aligned with all of the apartment's interconnected functions. This was state-of-the-art technology that allowed the owner of such an apartment to control all aspects of his home, including its safety.
However, this technological breakthrough hadn't stopped thieves and burglars from finding a parade, and Hanzo had been able to solicit the perfect people. He took out another gadget from a pocket of his jacket that was part of his clandestine purchases: an unlocking key. The archer stuck the key against the side of the door, exactly where the lock was located on the other side. He pressed the button on the key and after a few seconds he heard a rattling sound, indicating that the door lock had just been deactivated. Carefully he opened the glass door and entered the penthouse.
The apartment's interior was exactly what one would expect from such place. The room he had just entered - the living room, at first glance - was vast, all in length and included the majority of the flat. At its opposite end, overhung by an imposing chandelier, a large marble table was framed by a dozen chairs, on which rested a varnished wooden plate where he could distinguish luxury glassware as well as alcohol bottles. Close to him, large white leather sofas faced each other, separated by a modern transparent low table, and above one of them Hanzo assumed that there was a holographic screen that took up almost the entire wall.
The archer crawled through the darkness of the apartment, groping his way through it. Only the pale gleam of the neon lights and the glow of the lights of the surrounding buildings made it possible for him to distinguish what was around him. For the rest, he trusted his instincts. Hanzo arrived at the first door and discovered the kitchen. From what he could see, it looked like any kitchen you could see in commercials and holovids. He found nothing on the worktops, nothing in the sink. Everything seemed intact, as if the occupant of the apartment was not using this room. Knowing the man, Hanzo thought that he shouldn't cook, and that he was certainly relying on one of his lackeys to do the job when he didn't go out to eat. This was precisely the reason for his absence tonight. The hours and minutes displayed by the domestic appliances reminded Hanzo that he had no time to lose and he pursued his exploration.
He walked along a baroque-style chest of drawers on which he saw richly crafted vases whose appearance reminded him of the antiquities owned by his father. With more light, he would have been able to see the shades of colour that dotted the two works as well as the flora and fauna motifs that were depicted. Hanzo made out a statuette placed next to a lamp on a richly decorated pedestal table. It depicted a pair of intertwined dragons with their tails curling from the base to the top where the creatures were confronting themselves. The legendary snakes seemed to face each other in a titanic duel, unless it was a dance. Hanzo turned his attention away from the object and entered what appeared to be the main bedroom.
A bed that was far too wide occupied the space of the room, suffocated by numerous pillows and cushions and kitsch bedspread. To his right, a large bay window offered the occupant a view of downtown Singapore and its neon architecture. There was nothing interesting at first, until Hanzo saw a staircase in a corner of the room that led to a lower floor. With stealth, he walked down the stairs to a new corridor and thus new doors. The first door opened to the bathroom, the second to the dressing room, but Hanzo, following his intuition, went to the last one.
When he opened the door, he discovered a desk and the shelves of a bookcase that extended over two sides of the room. Against a wall he saw a computer console and Hanzo knew he had found what he came for. He stood in front of the console and pressed the power button. A holographic keyboard appeared and three holo-screens were displayed before his eyes, lighting up the room with a blue radiance. The central screen revealed an identification window asking the user for a password. Hanzo wasn't going to try to break this code, he had again shown himself to be very farsighted. He took a small device, similar to a saucer, out of his backpack and placed it on the console. The device turned on and holographic controls appeared on top of it. His visit to the black market had been anything but fortuitous.
He tapped the commands on his device and started the computer hack. This hacker tool would allow him to bypass the security systems of the computer and retrieve all the information needed to bypass the computer barriers. But before that, the device needed time. Hanzo walked away from the keyboard and examined the files and documents on the desk. He found nothing significant: Japanese letters of thanks from a customer, printed invoices, and contracts for the sale of real estate. It suited the old man to rely on traditional means of communication when the whole world had gone digital.
At the end of the desk, Hanzo saw a picture in a frame. He gently grasped it and with the light from the computer screen, he was able to catch a glimpse of the picture. An old man was sitting on a chair under a cherry blossom tree. The man stood proudly supported by his cane next to a kirin statue that seemed to be staring at the person taking the picture. His thinning hair was snow-white and wrinkles had marked his face, as had the years. He may have looked proud in this photograph, but Hanzo knew that the man was trying to hide his advanced age, especially the feverishness of his legs. He had always known him with a cane, even as a child.
A change on the computer screen caught his attention. The hacking device had served its purpose, allowing the archer to access what he was looking for. The computer interface was open to him and he didn't know where to start. Each time he wanted to open a file, a new authentication request appeared, but the hacking tool had harvested all of the device's identifying data, and as a result, each request was overridden and Hanzo navigated freely through the files. He had also been trained in the practice of software hacking. This was not his area of expertise, but in the current world, one should not be left on the sidelines when it comes to new technologies. Even his father had understood this.
Minutes went by as Hanzo browsed through the computer files. As he meandered through the folders, he discovered new information or a sub-folder that prompted him to explore even further. The owner of the computer would soon have no more secrets from him, and that was Hanzo's original goal. In the end, everything went as planned, and it should continue like that until the occupant of the apartment came back home.
Almost an hour later, the doors of the private elevator leading to the penthouse opened. The pale light of the elevator cast two long shadows into the lobby. The first was slow and sinuous while the second was livelier. The elevator doors closed, and the shapes disappeared. The chandelier in the lobby lit up and he could precisely distinguish the silhouettes of the two individuals. The old man with the cane was back home. He could hear the rattling of his cane on the floor with every step he made. The other seemed to be a woman, by the look of her appearance, the suit and the dress she was wearing.
"Thank you, Yatsuko." Said the man in Japanese as the woman took off his jacket. "You may go."
"You don't want me to stay with you?" she asked in Japanese.
"No, I don't have the heart for that tonight. I just want to sleep. You can go home."
The woman bowed respectfully and obeyed. The elevator opened its doors once again and she disappeared, leaving the old man alone. He turned off the hall lights and with a languid step entered the living room, leaning continuously on his cane. He stopped in front of a small table and turned on the switch of a lamp that lit up a slight part of the room. Hanzo remained hidden. The light wasn't bright enough for the man to spot him. The elderly man then walked to the large marble table where he took a few moments to serve himself a glass of alcohol, which he drank slowly. Then he froze, and Hanzo saw him stretching out like a cat on the watch. He turned around and stared at the room for a long time before taking another drink, and still with his heavy, dragging pace, supported by his cane, he reached a leather armchair, placing his glass on an nearby table.
"I hadn't expected any visitors tonight." he announced aloud as he slumped into the seat.
He had just spoken in Japanese. He knew he wasn't alone. Despite the years, his senses had not faded.
"Good evening, Munen." Hanzo solemnly answered, revealing himself.
He scrutinized the old man's face, looking for a glimpse of fear, astonishment, or even satisfaction. But Munen's face remained of marble: no tension, no grimace betrayed his moods. This was not surprising coming from an Elder of the Shimada Clan. As a child, Hanzo had seen them as immovable and imperturbable authority figures, just like his father.
"It's been a long time, Hanzo." Munen said melancholically. "Far too long..."
"Five years, as far as I'm concerned." said the archer, moving closer to the elder, bypassing the furniture.
Munen's eyes were tired, overwhelmed by time, and yet Hanzo felt them gauging him.
"You've changed, Hanzo."
"And you're exactly the same."
The old man seemed to relax and a smile appeared on his face.
"After all these years, why did you come here tonight?"
Hanzo didn't answer right away, not taking his eyes off the elder. He went to the window where he watched the traffic below.
"I'm being hunted, Munen."
"Hunted?" he asked, leaning on his cane.
"A man tried to kill me in Bangkok: a famous head-hunter in Southeast Asia." Hanzo continued, walking away from the window. "Sadly for him, he was no match to me, but it made me suspicious. When two omnic assassins assaulted me in Hong Kong, there was no room for doubt. Someone put a bounty on my head."
"It's unfortunate." Munen said indifferently. "But how does that explain your intrusion into my home at such a time of the night?"
"I have come to seek refuge, and most importantly, I have come to ask for your assistance in finding those who seek to kill me."
Hanzo gazed into Munen's eyes, hoping to discern some emotion.
"How did you find me?" the old man asked.
The archer smiled at the remark and went to face the Elder.
"The years have not affected my knowledge and skills just as you haven't lost your business sense. As you taught me in the past, I simply identified clandestine and criminal activities in which you were closely or remotely involved. Your sphere of influence is vast, but I was able to regroup several organizations that you had at your command. Finding them was difficult, but once I did, following the trail back to you was more than easy."
Hanzo perceived that as he pursued his explanation, Munen became more and more tense. His hands on his cane looked shaky.
"Someone had to maintain and protect the activities of our organization after you left." the Elder replied dryly. "The Shimada Empire no longer exists, but we made sure that our activities and those of your father didn't disappear with him."
Hanzo recognized the reproving tone of his former teacher. An inflexibility and firmness that made him the man he was today. The Elders of the Shimada clan all came from the same pattern, shaped and molded as a wise and experienced entity to guide the head of the clan in his task. But of all of them, Munen was the most stoic, stern and zealous.
"You abandoned the clan when we most needed a leader." Munen continued. "You gave up everything your forefathers and ancestors fought for. When Overwatch dismantled our activities, the Elders did everything they could to preserve what needed to be preserved. The Shimada Empire no longer exists, but its vestiges remain, thanks to us. You should be grateful for what we have achieved."
Munen's hands clasped on his cane and Hanzo confronted the old man's accusing eyes without answering him. A few seconds passed before his old teacher sighed long and tired.
"I'll help you." he said halfway, "in memory of Sojiro."
"How merciful you are."
His provocation displeases the old man. He didn't show it, but Munen was annoyed. He abhorred insolence and Hanzo remembered his punishments as a child.
"I'd be curious to know what you've done in your years of wandering." Munen asked inquisitively. "especially what you would have done to gain a bounty on your head."
Hanzo moved beyond the old man's chair to the marble table and looked at the bottles of liquor there. Munen had a good collection of Japanese whiskeys, and Hanzo served himself without restraint.
"As you said, I have wandered for a long time and put my skills to work for the highest bidder."
"Mercenary work is unworthy of a Shimada." Munen whistled as he retrieved his glass from the table to take another sip.
"Still, a man must eat well.
"And yet you come to me for help when your life is in danger. A man who wishes to live by the sword must expect to perish by the sword. That was not what we expected of you when we trained you. More importantly, we thought you were not a coward."
Hanzo ignored this taunt. The old man had a sharp tongue, and all he had left was his venom as his sole defence.
"It's not too late to get back on the right path though, Hanzo." Munen said imperiously. "You can still claim your rightful place. You can count on me to help you, just as I did in the past, and you can finally fulfill Sojiro's will and restore the honor of the Shimada clan."
The thought crossed his mind. He remembered his father and his stories of legendary warriors deserving all honours. Brave and harmless heroes whose actions were always guided by their sense of duty and justice. His brother loved the legends their father told them. As Hanzo grew up, he realized that such role models were an impossible ideal to achieve. When faced with this choice, had he fulfilled his duty? Did it finally preserve the honor of his clan? Events had proved him wrong, but now he was determined to take justice into his own hands.
"I made my decision long ago." Hanzo replied. "There's no need to look at the past."
The archer was surprised to see a scowl of disdain on Munen's face.
"You are free to remain bound by your certainties." he weighed as he rose from his seat.
Hanzo watched him move with difficulty and mechanically headed towards his room, turning his back on him.
"Now leave me alone." the old man ordered. "It's already too late and I need to rest. Come back tomorrow and we'll talk about how to solve your problem."
Before he took another step, Hanzo stopped him, laying a firm hand on Munen's bony shoulder.
"I'm not done yet."
The old man didn't flinch and swept the archer's hand from his shoulder before turning around to stare at him with his dark eyes. Munen's mouth twisted into a challenging pout.
"Well?" he whistled between his teeth. "What are you waiting for? Say what you have to say and spare me your impudence. Springs are far too precious to me now to waste my time with you, and you've lived through far too much of them to continue playing the role of the arrogant young rooster. In fact, that role was much more your brother's to play."
So now it was the old man's turn to provoke him and feeling a deafening anger rising inside him, Hanzo knew it had worked. Yet he had to control himself and remain in a position of strength. He had the advantage and had to keep it.
"I didn't just come here to hide. I've managed to track down those assassins and I think you'd better listen to what I've discovered."
Munen's face frowning and he kept glaring at Hanzo until he detached himself from the archer.
"So." he moaned as he returned to his chair. "Let's hear it."
Munen settled down and put his palms on his cane, attentive and all ears. His face, damaged by the years, had regained its proud features while his smug eyes never left him. Now that he had the Elder's full attention, Hanzo considered making the pleasure last.
"Before we continue, allow me to have some refreshment. My throat is dry again."
As he walked past the owner of the apartment to reach the table and the precious bottles, he thought he heard an annoying sigh from Munen's lips. Nevertheless, he quickly filled his glass to return to the old man. He wanted to keep an eye on him and was afraid that the old monkey might still have a trick up his sleeve.
"I couldn't find the backer, but I was able to trace it back to an intermediary." Hanzo began. "Not for the first assassin, unfortunately. He bled to death long before I could question him. For the two omnics, I was much luckier. A human can forget, but not a machine, and the memory of the omnics led me to an unsavory individual in Macau. A professional man like you've seen hundreds of them before: discreet, organized and sociable. The kind of individual who, for every request, creates a hundred offers, and for every question has all the answers within reach. And this man was very talkative. He had been asked to find someone competent enough to assassinate me, and on two occasions he had succeeded in finding perfect candidates. At least that's what he thought. »
The archer stopped for a few seconds to take a sip of whiskey. As in kabuki, you always had to work on your effects, and Hanzo enjoyed it.
"He redirected me to the owner of several nightclubs in Macau. A notable person prized by the city's golden youth for his drunken parties and revered by the most abject criminals for being the biggest human trafficker of the region. While following his trail, I was able to realize how diverse the activities of this man were: drug trafficking, arms trafficking, organ trafficking, omnic trafficking, pimping, fencing stolen goods. The man's name was Fen Tǔ. Did you ever hear of him?"
Munen stared at him with his dark eyes. Hanzo gave the old man a few seconds to answer, but the Elder remained silent so he resumed his story:
"I questioned this Fen Tǔ for a long time, and he admitted that he was just a subordinate in a larger organization and that the order to assassinate me came not from him but from much above. I would have liked to get him to confess the name of the backer, but like a good and loyal dog, he did not give in. Nevertheless, with what he had told me, I was able to continue my research. Because you see, a man like this Fèn Tǔ, considering his numerous activities, had to collect large sums of money that he had of course to reinvest in activities far more ... clean. These are the basics for anyone wishing to form a criminal organization. I'm not gonna teach that to you. So all profits from his activities were redistributed or placed in shell companies or reinvested. He bought bars, restaurants, discos all along the coast from the South China Sea to the Gulf of Thailand, as well as buildings and housing in Vietnam and Cambodia. And most of the profits from his legal activities, in addition to his other improper income, he reinvested them in import-export companies in Kuala Lumpur, Malacca and right here in Singapore."
Hanzo finished his glass in a single stroke and placed it on the pedestal table where the statue of the intertwined dragons appeared more distinctly to him, illuminated by the light of the living room. It reminded him of a story his father used to tell him: the myth of two dragons, two brothers. He let the thought wander, preferring to focus on the reason why he was here.
"In Kuala Lumpur, as in Malacca, I tried to find out who was behind these businesses. And after consulting the registers of all those companies, I was able to link them to four bank accounts scattered in several cities in Asia, Africa and Europe. One of them is in London, another in Numbani, and the last two are in Tokyo and Singapore respectively. I preferred to focus on the banks within my reach: Tokyo and Singapore. You'd be surprised how easy it is to bypass bank security, whether it's to get in or to access their computer systems. It's mainly a matter of using the right tools and I still have some contacts in the Tokyo mob. And many of them owe me favors."
Hanzo had just crossed the room back and forth and Munen's silence was getting heavier and heavier. Had the old man died of boredom?
"From the Tokyo bank account, I learned that the owner of that account had huge resources and put them to good use. I was able to find transactions linked to import-export companies as well as handling and service companies, probably other decoys to launder his dirty money. He had purchased several residences around the world: an apartment in New York, another in Paris and Numbani, and a last one recently bought in Singapore. With those details, it was not difficult to identify and find the addresses of these apartments. And I have to admit that this man is not a common criminal who shows off his wealth, because despite his means, the properties he bought were not really high-end, but rather housing accessible to the newly rich or to young businessmen. It's clever, so he doesn't draw too much attention around him. And the more discreet he stays, the less likely he is to draw attention to his business. After that, I arrived in Singapore exactly two days ago. I broke into the bank and was able to inspect his account information to see similar exchanges and transactions. I had no choice but to visit his flat in order to investigate. So I went there hoping to find answers to my questions, one of which I couldn't get out of my mind."
Hanzo had returned to Munen and the archer looked into the pupils of his former teacher.
"Why did you order my assassination, Munen?"
The old man didn't flinch. Was he frightened to death? Was he terrified? No, and that was part of his exasperation. Munen was always silent, defiant and inflexible. Yet he hadn't defended himself, letting Hanzo speak and speak, as if it didn't matter anymore. His silence confirmed his involvement and only added to Hanzo's irritation. He hoped the old man wouldn't lower himself to answering with poor lies. Finally, a grin appeared at the corners of Munen's lips.
"It's reassuring to see that you haven't forgotten what we taught you."
"Answer my question."
Munen wiggled in his chair, putting his cane on his lap.
"I've never hidden my reasons from you." he explained. "You disgraced the Shimada clan, destroying everything the Council of Elders had built..."
"It was my father's Empire. Not yours."
"But we're the ones who preserved it." Munen replied, hitting the ground with his cane. "We rebuilt it almost from scratch while you were grieving."
"You mean you shared it like scavengers." Hanzo added as he walked away from the old man. "And how did you rebuild it? By associating with filthy people like that Fen Tǔ? My father would never have allowed this, he wouldn't have collaborated with scum like them."
"But Sojiro is no more, and his heir wasn't up to the task of succeeding him, despite all the hopes he had for him. The Council of Elders has made the right decisions to keep the clan going and under no circumstances will we let you get back what you deliberately gave up. You have lost all rights to this legacy."
The old man was adamant about it and that angered him.
"You've made that clear enough! I hacked into your computer and I was able to retrieve your several conversations with the other members of the Council. What's left of them, anyway. You didn't hesitate to eliminate your rivals among the Ancients to better divide the remains with the rest. And I was one of the targets to be disposed of, and to prove your good faith, you decided to take care of it personally and yet you didn't get your hands dirty. For a man who judges so much by honor, you are terribly despicable."
Munen remained insensitive to this umpteenth provocation as Hanzo arrived behind one of the couches in the living room. He glanced at the statue of the dragons and saw their eyes glowing red.
"The Council has always been able to take the right decisions for the sake of the clan and has always fully assumed them. Unlike you, who is unable to face the consequences of your actions. It seems we were wrong. That we placed our hopes into the wrong brother. Over the years, I have come to realize that Genji would have made a better leader for ..."
Hanzo wouldn't let him finish his sentence. He'd just retrieved his bow hidden under the couch. The archer watched the old man's face react to the arrow he'd just shot in his shoulder. His challenging look turned into a facade of bitter surprise, which fully gratified Hanzo.
"Don't you dare speak his name." he whistled in his teeth.
Dropping his cane, Munen brought his spare arm to the arrow to try to free himself, but it had sunk too deep into his flesh, and into the armchair. He was panting, his lips were trembling.
"That's ... exactly what I was saying." the old man gasped for breath. "Unable to face his own decisions. You killed your brother, but you didn't have the strength to bear such a burden."
Hanzo approached him with a notched arrow in his bow. The masquerade was over and Munen knew it.
"You made me take sanctions against my brother because you were afraid he'd turn against the clan, Hanzo claimed. You wanted him to disappear and I was foolish enough to walk your path."
Munen was sweating heavily. A broad smile appeared on his painfully disfigured features.
"Is that what you think?" he said, letting out a clear sneer. "We are not the ones who struck the final blow. You're the one to blame. I was told that your work on your brother was not swordsmanship but butchery. What did Genji told you to make him earn such painful death?"
A second arrow pierced his forearm, nailing him to the armrest.
"I warned you not to speak his name."
Tears appeared at the corners of Munen's eyes as he continued to smile.
"You've fallen even lower than I thought." he answered. My death will bring you no good. My ghost will pursue you, along with those of Genji and Sojiro."
A third arrow went through the old man's groin and he choked a screaming pain. It took a few seconds for a red tint to appear on the seat of the armchair, which soon sank to his feet.
"My brother and father are my burden. But you're not." Hanzo replied, lowering himself to Munen's level. "I must live with the wrongs from my past, but there's no way I'll allow the Elders to reap the benefits of the Shimada's heritage. If I haven't dignified my father as a clan leader, then I must at least do him justice by not leaving his legacy in the hands of dogs such as you."
Now it was Munen's entire body that was trembling. The fingers of his arm, nailed to the armrest of the chair, were twisting. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his smile evaporated into an angry pout. The old man looked around him, watching the elevator doors, as if he was expecting someone to appear.
"No one's gonna save you. I've shut down the security systems. I've seen you repeatedly press a hidden button on your cane, but your men won't come. You die tonight, Munen."
"That's how you intend to get away with it?" Munen grumbled. "You're nothing... A lost cause! There's no hope for you anymore. You don't deserve this legacy."
"I've already emptied your accounts, Hanzo said. Your computer had all the necessary data and thanks to my cracking tools, I was able to do it with joy. I also had access to a lot of incriminating information that could put your organization in trouble if the authorities got their hands on it."
Munen's mouth tensed with pain and rage, but while Hanzo hoped that this would give him some satisfaction, it didn't. His hunt had been long and tiresome, and in the process, he had imagined that he would find the person who had commissioned the bounty on his head and make him pay for it. Finding out that it was an Elder of the Shimada clan, a former teacher, had made it bitter, but it had strengthened his resolve.
"No one will benefit from your legacy, Munen. I'll personally take care of it."
His anger had subsided to give way to deep indifference. Now that he had reached the end of his settlement with the old man, he didn't feel fully content. Continuing the torment would not change anything. In any case, he was done with it.
"The other Elders... They'll find out it was you." Munen stammered as a trickle of blood dripped from the corners of her lips. "They'll send other assassins to hunt you down, and in the end, all you've accomplished will have been for nothing...
Hanzo moved away from the chair where Munen was dying to the penthouse window that opened onto the terrace. Attached to the handle of the bay was the zip-line cable that had allowed him to cross the street.
"I'll find them first and they'll fall like you." Hanzo answered, throwing a last glance over his shoulder to his former teacher.
The grotesque appearance of Munen's body, at death's door, slumped in his armchair was terribly pathetic. Hanzo was surprised to feel some regret at this sad picture. Things should have turned out differently.
"Come back here!" Munen ordered, gathering his last strength, spitting blood on his tunic. Grant me an honorable death! If you still have any respect for me, come back and strike me down!
In the past, Hanzo's principle was never to cause unnecessary harm. He remembered a lying body, pouring rain, a purple puddle of water and blood on his hands. Hanzo buried these thoughts deep inside him. He'd remained faithful to this principle until Genji. He wasn't going to give Munen such a privilege.
"Real life isn't like the old stories you told us as children. Only honorable people deserve to die a swift and noble death. But we are not honorable men."
Hanzo gave Munen a last glance and his face froze, then his head collapsed on his shoulder to stay still. The archer wrapped the cable around his hand and grabbed it firmly, then he took a run-up and jumped into the air to reach the roofs of the other buildings below. Then he vanished into the night.
Here is the 4th chapter of this fiction which came out quite fast and I'm not unhappy to be able to bring it to you so quickly. It's a chapter that I've had in mind for a very long time and it allows me to breathe a little.
The chapters by Jack, Winston and Angela had this nostalgic tone with Overwatch, so we could see a bit of the same pattern and let's say that this chapter 4 allows me to break the mould a little bit.
Hanzo is a really interesting character. He's proud, melancholic and imperturbable at the same time. I really enjoyed writing about him, just like I'm really looking forward to Genji. The dynamic of the Shimada brothers is really captivating and I hope we'll see more of it in Overwatch 2. Fingers crossed.
For the next character, I've put that character aside for too long and favored Hanzo and Angela before her. But I plan to make up for that with Chapter 5, which I hope you'll like just as much.
Thanks to Etsukazu for his rereading and his advice and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. In any case, do not hesitate to leave me your opinion or a comment, it has a euphoric effect on the author.
Take care and see you soon for the following!
