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

Anger (Pt. 2)

Slamming the shoji screen close, Hanzo treaded towards the far corners of his room with the majestic flurry of a billowing black whirlwind and paced about with a sullen glare.

The tears on your cheeks have long dried into sticky patches, where loose strands of your hair have matted onto the skin. You couldn't muster the courage needed to even look up in his general direction. How could you when flashes of what happened awhile ago replayed the moment you attempted to utter even the smallest of sounds.

"(Y/N)." His sudden call tore through your reverie.

"Y-Yes, Lord Hanzo?"

"Bring me my ointment quickly. It's inside that small drawer."

"Of course."

You scrambled on your bare feet, careful not to trip on the edges of the floor's thick carpeting. Opening said wooden drawer, you rummaged through the various containers and trinkets that greeted you until you caught sight of a short, stout green jar with a golden cap located at the farthest row.

"Is this the one, Lord Hanzo?" you asked, bringing the object out into the light.

All he answered you with was a curt nod.

You sat down on your heels adjacent to him, still cradling the green jar in your palms. His order to retrieve the medicament was strange, and for the first time, you were able to put your anxiety aside to speak to him.

"Are you hurt, Lord Hanzo?" Your eyes scanned the expanse of his visible skin. No wounds at all.

"Apply that on where that bastard slapped you," he said lowly. "And anywhere else where he hurt you."

Your hand gripped at the outer edges of the cap and twisted it off with an audible pop. The sharp scent of the gel had a sure hint of chamomile, and, enticed, you scooped two fingers full of ointment and rubbed it in circles against your cheek.

"Thank you, Lord Hanzo," you squeaked. "For this and for...saving me. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't showed up."

The man said nothing, and the silence was starting to thicken about the two of you. Again you reverted your attention back to playing with a loose thread on your obi as you relished the fire and ice sensation that cooled your irritated skin.

You watched as he sat cross-legged on the floor and meditated, trying to cope up with the negative concoction stirring within him. To anyone who'd pass by, it would appear as though the man was winning over the stress trying to get inside his head, but you knew Hanzo inside out ever since you were children. Having that said, you could say for a certain that this came out as a poor facade on his part. His breathing was even, but it was heavy and forced, a clear indication of his crumbling calm. The furrows on his brows dug further at the center, the veins at the back of his tight fists still throbbing with vexation. His lips were pursed--too flatly--and they looked like they could curl up into an unsightly snarl at any given moment.

Remembering the confrontation between the heir and his father just half an hour ago, you felt a lump rising in your throat, which intensified once you recalled Hanzo's dismission from the upcoming meeting the next day. A part of you felt guilty and insisted that you had a part to play in his misfortune. That meeting gave way for the ultimate opportunity for your master to prove himself to be the eligible leader of the clan. He had just lost that chance trying to defend you.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Lord Hanzo," you sobbed, your whole body bowing and shaking with remorse. "I'm sorry your father got mad at you. If it weren't for me, you would still have a face to show the delegates, you'd still have the chance to prove to them how much you really are capable of. I never meant to rip you of your honor or disgrace you in front of all of them. Please forgive me."