A/N: Happy holidays, everyone!
This drabble ( and it really is a drabble this time ) is based off of Blizzard's new comic, so if you haven't read that yet and would like to, it might be best to give that a read before you continue on with this chapter. With that said, this entire drabble was actually inspired by only one panel.
And let's just say, you'll know it when you see it ;)
Roaming Without Purpose
The cool wind nipping at the nape of his neck feels foreign to him. He's worn his hair long since he was a child, and even now a small part of him expects to hear a stern reprimand for this new style, for the piercings running through the bridge of his nose and through the soft cartilage of his ears. It is hardly an appearance befitting the heir to a proud and dignified clan, after all.
And yet, the harsh words never come. In fact, as he roams the crowded, illuminated streets in Mexico for no reason other than a sudden whimsy to walk amongst the celebrations, he finds that he's actually drawing less attention to himself now. No one pays him a second glance as he passes easily through the market, soaking in the vibrant fabrics and the smell of something sweet wafting through the air.
It's been so long since he's walked without direction or purpose, since he's allowed his mind to rest, his feet to take them where they will, and he doesn't know what he deserves, anymore, but he knows what he wants. And he thinks that maybe… he can want.
It's okay.
Soon, he sees a boy smiling in front of a bakery, gazing longingly at a Christmas cake covered in strawberries and white frosting. He's wearing a wool cap, with his dark brown hair swept to the side, and a heavy jacket that's a little too large, possibly a hand-me-down from an older brother or a cousin, and Hanzo can see the hunger in his eyes, the longing, and thinks, What do I want right now?
So, he offers some money to the bakers and points to the cake. They bring it out, he takes it, and the boy, though envious, takes heart in knowing that at least someone will be eating that delicious dessert on Christmas, even if he'd much rather it'd be him. He's still smiling when Hanzo turns to him, the cake held out in silent offering.
And the boy lights up like a firework, illuminating every shadow, every street corner, every nook and cranny for miles.
Then he wraps his arms around the gift, and runs off to tell his mother the good news. Hanzo watches until the boy's small back disappears amongst the moving sea of people doing their holidays rounds, the Christmas cake still clutched tightly to his chest.
Once he's out of sight, his head no longer bobbing up and down in the crowd, Hanzo turns to walk back in the direction of the hotel he's staying at. There's an unopened letter from Nepal burning in his pocket, and he knows exactly what he wants to do next.