Chapter Text
It's a rainy day in Hanamura, and a small house stands amongst other small houses overlooking the ocean. This is where you live. Where you’ve tucked yourself away from the world absent from any real form of socialization for over five years now. There are reasons for this, but it’s stuff that you're not willing to think on often. Standing outside on the balcony you let the ice cold rain pelt your face. The downpour soaking your hair and clothes almost instantly. It's melancholy, but you’ve always enjoyed the feel of rain.
The nano-machines hum under your skin. They are responding to the cold. Keeping your body warm, and allowing you to stand out in the storm for a little while longer. The weather is too cold, too bitter. In turn, the machines are threatening to push their way out to cover you from head to toe. They are here to try and protect you from everything, even the weather. It’s a love-hate relationship with the things that are always just underneath your skin. They provide admirable protection from the elements, bullets, explosions, and harsh hits. However, they are not without their downfalls. The machines reek havoc on your body. They make your bones hurt. When they pull themselves from your pores it's like rapid needles pulling themselves out over every inch of you.
In other words, it hurts like hell. For the most part, you can control their appearances. But sometimes the machines seem to have a mind of their own. You head back inside and the humming under your skin starts to quiet down. The only companion you have in the world is nuzzled into the crook of the couch snoring, tongue out, and twitching from a dream. It must be exciting because she is starting to bark. A part of you is always afraid she is having a nightmare. You're not sure if dogs can have nightmares, but your guilt always pushes you to wake her up when she starts to woof in her sleep.
You gently pat her soft belly until she wakes up. Then she groans and stretches all four of her furry little legs. Promptly falling back asleep after. You wish you could sleep like her. Instantaneously and for hours at a time but your sleeping patterns are erratic at best. Nonexistent at worst. Seeing your sleepy pup makes you think it's time to try for a nap. However, fate and circumstance are not gonna allow that. When the first boom sounds off in the distance you ignore it. Thinking that it must have been thunder. Then another one sounds off and you're sure that it's not. Something is happening. You run out to the front of your house where you can see smoke billowing up from the Shimada Castle.
Another boom sends an electric shock through your chest into your heart. It starts to beat fast against your chest, causing the machines to start humming again. You tell yourself you don’t care about what's going on up there. You had chosen this little corner of the world because it was supposed to be quiet. For the most part, it has been. Tonight is the first time in five years it has truly betrayed your expectations. Sometimes the machines act like your second conscience. When you try to walk back inside and ignore the scene they grew uncomfortably hot, prodding at your insides, and turning your stomach in on itself.
Your fists clench in frustration. You've heard just about every damn rumor there is to hear about that place. Whatever nonsense is going on there is defiantly none of your business. Yet, when gunshots started to ring out piercing through the loudness of the storm the machines take it upon themselves to emerge. Not ready for them, you fell to your knees. You curse and protest, as they covered your body in the world's most impenetrable flexible material. Billions of nano-machines coming together to make you one of the most well-armored people on the planet. The pooch had woken up when she heard your cry. She stands in front of you now. Tail wagging, concerned for her owners well being.
“Fine.” You say bitterly, “I give in. I’ll check it out.”
Before you leave you run into your garage where you keep a plethora of illegal weapons. They are old and neglected. But they’ll still get the job if you need them to. You snap on a belt that holds a few pistols, a couple of old fashioned grenades, and a knife or two. If your history proves anything you might not have to use any of it. Enemies always get themselves killed when they are around you.
You don't have a car so you have to run. The castle is about ten miles away and uphill. You have good endurance and strong legs. So you’ll get there shortly. Not many people are out in the rain. Some are determined to get groceries. While others are trying their hardest to get home safely from work.
That doesn't mean that you don't have eyes watching you from afar. People are out on their balconies, as well as windows. Curious and concerned about the spectacle going on at the Shimada castle. The glances that you catch are in awe of you. While some are understandably fearful. You approach the castle from the east side weaving between trees and you attempt to scale the wall. On a dry day, you're not the best at climbing. Today is making it extremely difficult. You fall. Twice. Before backing up, getting some determination, and a running start. Third times a charm and you make it up and over. There are multiple angry voices coming from inside. Several men are barking orders in Japanese.
After several years living in Japan, you’ve managed to learn minor Japanese. From what you can make out they are trying in a heated manner to find someone. There’s a window you can sneak into but it’s gonna require more climbing. A fall can still hurt you, even with the machines protection. If you sneak in and startle them it's not going to go over well. Then again will any course of action go over well here? You decide that no it won’t. Then throw caution to the wind and walk right in the front door. Five men are huddled together pointing dangerous looking guns up towards the ceiling. There’s a rather menacing fire in the far corner of the room along with three smaller scattered ones. It's safe to assume they are from the plethora of explosions that had caught your attention and brought you here.
Pained groaning comes from the stairs where they have laid their wounded. Three men all have various amounts of arrows protruding from their bodies. One man is littered with them, it doesn't look like he is going to survive. The men in the center of the room have yet to notice you walk in. They are too afraid of whoever is hidden in the rafters to pull their attention away.
You clear your throat, “Excuse me? Boys? Maybe you should bounce things don't look to be going to well for you here. Your colleagues over there could really use a hospital.”
Their attention snaps to you. Suddenly you’ve got the barrels of five guns pointed at your head and body. But you're not afraid. You keep your hands at your sides while they demand that you throw away your weapons and drop to your knees.
“Listen. I’m not going to do any of that. For your own good don't shoot me.”
Their threats get louder and they step closer to you. "Get down! Get down! Drop your weapons! We will not hesitate to kill you, you have five more seconds to comply!"
They never listen, never heed the warnings, but you try one more time.
“Do not shoot me. You will regret it.”
In the defense of the fools who are about to shoot at you; you don't look like much of a threat. Even covered from head to toe in your nano-machine armor it just looks like you are wearing a simple body suit. Like you just came from snorkeling in the ocean and neglected to remove your wetsuit. Right as they are about to open fire, an arrow flies out of a corner in the ceiling whistling as it flys through the air. Planting right into the neck of the man at the front of the line. One of the men deviates his attention. He lets off a spray of bullets into the corner where the arrow came from. Then one of the others makes the unfortunate mistake of shooting at you. You don't fully understand how the machines work. You probably never will. But you do know for certain the familiar feeling of having them take the bullets in for the shortest amount of time; only to throw them back at terminal velocity into whomever the bullets came from. The machines are aware of who is shooting at them.
To the naked eye, it looks like the bullets are simply ricocheting. But it's not that simple. Something only you know. Not something you could explain in a scientific manner with big words and elaborate definitions. All the people who could do that have long been dead. All of the bullets that made contact with you have gone back to the shooter hitting him in his torso and legs. He falls to the ground dead, the fate of fools. There’s only three left standing now. Dumbstruck and horrified. You take in a deep breath the machines bend in slightly,
“I warned you.”
They bicker amongst themselves and quickly decide that they are going to move out. When they do they are still pointing their guns at you as if that would keep you from harming them. They keep their distance while they grab the men who are still living and take their exit. All the while, promising to whoever is still hidden away up high that they would be back,
" You’ll never be free of the clan!"
You should leave as well. As it's quiet now, and you're not needed here anymore. But your curiosity gets the best of you, as it often does. Leisurely you walk over to where the men were standing plant your hands on your hips and search the rafters. In a search for the person they were trying so hard to kill. Someone drops down behind you with a soft thud. You spin around nearly grabbing your gun but stop yourself. A bow comes down on your neck. Then swings into your gut; one, two, three times. Nearly causing you to fall over.
You stand your ground and block with your arms, “Hey! Hey! Knock it off I’m not the enemy!"
“Hey! Hey! Knock it off I’m not the enemy!"
The man is wielding his bow like a katana and poised to fight you some more. The quiver on his back is empty and he’s hurt. Blood is running down the side of his face so much it’s dripping onto the floor. He’s got a nasty looking burn on his wrist. Along with lots of other smaller cuts and bruises. He’s exhausted defiantly had a hell of a hard time.
He demands through clenched teeth, “Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
You throw your hands up trying to show you mean him no harm, “Nobody. I’m just here to do some damage control. I’ll leave.”
“Nobody. I’m just here to do some damage control. I’ll leave.”
The archer's posture softens ever so slightly. Beyond the blood and the bruises, he is handsome. A face blessed with defined bone structure. An angle at nearly every focal point. The fire in the room has started to dissipate. The rain seems to be doing a good job at keeping it under control. Which is good because it doesn't seem like the city’s fire department cares much about coming to put it out.
“Do you understand who you were talking to? Those men. They will not forget how you’ve slighted them.”
You shrug. You doubt they’d be able to pick you out of a lineup. As the machines hide most of your facial features.
You turn to leave, “They can keep me in their thoughts. You should get some medical attention. I gotta go, good luck with whatever you're dealing with.”
You can feel his curious gaze on your back. He’s confused, still not understanding why you showed up. Well, he can get in line. You're still confused as well. It had been years since you last found yourself in a dangerous situation like that.
The run back down the hill is exhilarating. You're going way too fast, feet pounding the concrete. The rain is still pouring down from the sky. You are going to feel that run in the morning. In no time, you're back inside your quaint little house as if you had never left. The pup is fast asleep like she always is and doesn’t move an inch when you come in. You get down on your hands and knees in your living room. Grip the carpet, grit your teeth, and brace yourself. Then let the nano-machines retreat back underneath your skin. It always hurts less when you're ready for it.
The clothes you are wearing will need to be thrown out and it's a shame; you really like this shirt. The machines never tear your clothes to shreds. But they leave little holes in them as if the garments had been laying in a moth infested closet for years. You always wonder if the bots are taking the fabric back into your body with them. It's something you're paranoid about. So you don't dwell on it for too long. Instead, you prepare your ointment because your skin is inflamed and red. Like you've got an extreme case of hives. It’s nothing you're not used to. It’s always like this after the machines retreat.
In not time you're already immersed back into your private little world. As if you had never even left. Because of this, the knock on your door startles you.
You take one of your pistols hide it behind your back and cautiously open the door. Shock paints your face, it’s the archer. Still bleeding. Now soaking wet, the golden scarf he is wearing in his hair is drooping down to the side.
“I…what? You followed me! That’s extremely inappropriate.”
“Anyone could have. Including those men you shrugged off.”
Wow! What a reckless oversight on your part. You aren't going to admit it but he is right.
“Did they?”
“No.”
A heavy sigh of relief, “Why are you here?”
“I would like to ask you for your help.”
You roll your eyes, you're not happy about this, “You mean more of my help? I’ve already helped you once today.”
He takes your attitude with stride, “Yes. More of your help... please.”
You lean on the door contemplating if you're going to turn him away or not. The archer waits patiently, leans against the door frame using a tattooed arm. He's starting to look unnaturally pale, faint, and like he might be sick any moment now. The machines hum under your skin. You can't in good conscience tell him to get lost.
“Fine. Get in here,” you point a finger in his face, “Just know I am fully capable of kicking your ass.”
“I am aware.”
He tries to walk in but you stop him with a hand to his chest, “Wait a second. I wanna at least know your name before you enter my house.”
“Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada.”
What. Oh, you’ve defiantly heard this guy's name before. More than a few times when listening to stories and rumors in the bars that you occasionally go to. The look on his face says, oh so you've heard of me? You almost take back your invitation. The rumors surrounding him have been far from flattering. You remove your hand from his chest. There is always two sides to the story.
“Welcome to my humble home Hanzo. Take a seat in the kitchen, don’t get blood on my carpet damn it.”