The Dragon's Curse (A Hanzo X Reader Fanfic)

Hold Your Heart Down

Hey guys! Thanks for the reads--hope you'll like this one. It mainly features our bae Hanzo. Don't forget to leave a vote and comment loves! :*

The afternoons were reserved for sword training; this much Hanzo knew for as long as he could remember.

The katana sitting proudly in the center of the weapon's room was his most prized possession: This was where he was most proficient, most skilled.

Most deadly.

Its clothed blue hilt never ceased to beckon him closer, and when he wrapped his thick fingers around it, power so addicting shot from his hand that the heir was reminded of his true skills as an eligible leader. Hanzo was certain all of the great clan rulers before him felt the uproar in their veins, and he felt privileged to be consumed by such sensations.

The task of being leader still nerved him even in his age, but his exceptional strategic aptitude and years of training assured him with a confidence he always found comforting.

He slipped the sleeves of his light blue kimono off his muscular shoulders and tied them around his waist. It was an unspoken rule kind of thing; one that stuck with him in his years of practicing the art of fighting. It also revealed an ornate tattoo, blue and yellow, of what seemed to be serpentine dragons plastered on his chest that snaked down the expanse of his left arm.

The dummies in the room were slowly sliced, one after the other, by the sword's sleek perfect blade that could break even the toughest material and pierce through any elaborate armor ever built. It shone with a dangerous luster every time it caught sunlight, and even to a hardened man such as its wielder, the effect was mesmerizing.

Hanzo kept his rigorous exercise up for sometime until out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the vibrant green hair of his brother bobbing by through the shoji panel he left slightly ajar. The first thing the older Shimada noticed was the change in his sibling's attire other than the signature metal band on his head and white earphones, a classic dissentient tool of the youths.

Genji had on a pressed green shirt, khaki knee-length shorts, and black sneakers. Hanzo was rather disturbed by the sight of the societally decent garment.

He's wearing pants. Hanzo squinted his eyes. He's up to something.

For the first time in hours, he felt the beads of sweat rolling down his bare torso, and his thoughts wandered back to memories of you: how red and flustered you were under Genji's company, how you smiled around him.

Could it be?

Feeling a gaze burning into his form, Genji took off an earphone bud and looked to his right, meeting Hanzo eye to eye through the little slit on the entrance. He placed his fingers in between the space and pushed back, sliding the paper screen open before going in, not even bothering to take his footwear off as preferred.

"I knew you'd be here," the lad remarked. "Training and all with your coat off like that again."

In response, Hanzo grabbed the customized sheath of his katana leaning nearby and smoothly slipped the blade in without any drag. He didn't leave his eyes off Genji.

"You should be training as well," he chided. "You'd know that the sleeves of our coats slow us down if you actually picked your sword up for once."

The lad rocked on his heels and let out a patient sigh. "Brother, I do train. How do you think I got these muscles?"

On cue, he flexed his impressive biceps, to which the older Shimada only rolled his eyes at.

"Steroids," Hanzo spat under his breath, untying the knotted sleeves on his waist.