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

The Wrong Teacup

Thanks for all the votes guys! I hope you all will like this part as well. I was inspired to write this chapter after knowing that indirect kisses were a big deal in Japan. I think it's pretty cute! Also, if you don't like tea--now you do.

Don't forget to click on the little star, loves! :*

The dim, still atmosphere of the Shimada halls in its wake mirrored the dull fatigue wracking your insides. You groaned quietly, waiting outside Hanzo's shoji screens for any sanction of entry. Despite the slight ache beneath your temples, the outlook of meeting Hanzo in a short while was enough to keep your eyes wide and open.

You fidgeted in your spot, your bare soles tapping against the smooth wooden floor. Staring up at the rafters that supported the roof, you wondered on who got the honor of replacing you and how they fared at the moment when a thick, raspy voice came from the other side of the doors.

"Come in."

And that you did.

Sliding a paper panel to the side, you were instantly met by your superior, sitting cross-legged on the floor with that permanent scowl on his face. Perhaps he was just groggy--yeah, maybe that was it. You glanced to the side and noticed that his white futon has been tidied up, pillows laid plump at the top and blankets folded without a crease. You smiled at the thought of a sleeping Hanzo snoring while hugging a pillow tight.

"(Y/N)." His voice broke your lighthearted trance, and you snapped your head back to his.

"Y-Yes, Lord Hanzo?"

"I'm going to a very important meeting later with my father. There is no room for training today and no room for cleaning up after my brother." He glanced from the comb in his hand up to your orbs. "I haven't worn my formal attire in a while, and I might need assistance."

"Of course, Lord Hanzo."

You carried nothing with you at the moment, not that he specified, but the bareness of your hands left you feeling self-conscious and incomplete.

Having nothing else to do, you clasped your hands below your abdomen and watched with interest as the bristles of the comb smoothed through the man's long raven strands. Under the dim lighting, the locks appeared like little black streams that flowed in the moonlight, and you were pulled into another world.

Your stare didn't go past Hanzo's field of vision, and feeling that your probing eyes weren't going to leave anytime soon, he gave a quiet sigh and twisted his torso to question you.

"With you looking at me like that, I suppose you want to comb my hair?"

Without so much as a blink, he extended the comb out for you to grab at in a single swift motion.

You jumped in your spot and stammered words as they stumbled on your tongue. You were so flustered, you didn't even perceive the little tug his lips gave at your commotion.

"I-I didn't mean to pry, Lord Hanzo." You bowed low from the waist, hoping to hide the red that took over your face. "It just looked so fascinating, er, I mean--I'm so sorry."

Straightening your body back up, you found your superior in the same position with the same expression etched all over his angular features. He didn't seem to have heard your apology at all, or rather, he paid no heed to it.

"Take it as an order," he said, adjusting his spine to maintain his perfect posture. "Sit behind me and comb my hair as I meditate."

You gulped and gathered your composure back as best you could under the austere, intimidating aura he radiated. If you knew anything in your years here in the castle, it was that the heir could be a control freak at times, and things that deviate from the flow of his plans tick him with a burning rage. Befriending caution seemed like the only way to make it out of each day alive, and you intended on sticking by that strategy.