Chapter Text
Meiwaku ( 迷惑 ) : an annoyance, an inconvenience, a nuisance. The resentment that results from being troublesome to others, through your own ignorance or selfishness. In Japan, children are taught to avoid causing meiwaku from a very young age.
Hanzo never got used to heights.
He stood with his nose almost touching the glass, forty stories up, gazing out at the fog blanketing Fukuoka. It sucked up the ground, made it seem he was above the very clouds. If the glass disappeared, or one of the suited Iwata pig-dogs behind him shoved him through it, Hanzo might fall forever and ever.
He breathed in, then out, hands folded at his belt. No matter how many trees climbed, buildings scaled, wires walked, roofs zip-lined between. He never, ever got used to heights.
Hanzo stood next to his father, in a loose line of suited tough guys at the back of a sky-high restaurant.To say Hanzo felt naked without a weapon was understating it; he physically felt lighter. He didn't anticipate an attempt on the kumichō's life, but it only took being wrong once. Behind the door to the VIP lounge, a neutral security worker provided by the hotel ran a handheld metal detector over each man as they entered. This was nothing more than a formality to show that both sides were playing ball. Any man in this group could kill any other with his hands and feet.
Hanzo scanned the restaurant. Not a single diner had so much as glanced at the shoulder-to-shoulder parties of yakuza since they'd entered. And yet, they must have at least once, to ascertain who these thick-necked men in suits and sunglasses all were.
Following at his father's shoulder, he entered the VIP lounge. He glanced around the room's offerings. A private bar, comfortable furniture, marble ashtrays on a long black table that swallowed all the goldish light that touched it. He had seen better; he had seen worse. After being checked for metal, he took a seat at the corner beside his father, who sat at the head.
The saikō-komon, Uwaru-san, sat across from Hanzo and folded his hands on the table. Directly to Hanzo's right, the chair was empty. He grumbled irritably, like a dog.
Some two dozen sets of eyes and pairs of sunglasses trained intently on the two men at the head of each table: Shimada-sama at one end, Iwata-sama at the other.
Iwata was a frail old guy, kind of flamboyant. His magenta suit stuck out like a deep bruise. Iwata cleared his throat.
"Forgive my mistake, Goro-san."
Hanzo flinched; Iwata used his father's given name.
"All this time, I mistakenly thought you had two sons. Forgive a stupid old man his ignorance," said Iwata. On the face of each of Iwata's company, silent amusement drew their cheeks up almost imperceptibly.
Hanzo's hands squeezed into fists. He was angry. Angry at Iwata's tone, his insult; most of all, angry at his brother.
Shimada clapped his hands as if wiping off dust. "Well, Daimon, as long as I don't have to spend my entire Friday night with you losers, maybe I can pick up a waitress to help me make another."
Laughter boomed in the little lounge. The tension parted like a knife slicing a taut rope.
Hanzo grinned. It was a terrible joke, but in a single breath, his father had eased the hot tempers threatening to set the room ablaze, as well as deflected Iwata's insult, and avoided any further discussion of Genji. Hanzo found his admiration for his father never waned, in fact swelling every time he saw the old man in his element.
"To business, then," Iwata sighed. He called for a whiskey. "This will be the first in a number of negotiations that, fate being generous, will lead to an end to hostilities between our organisations."
Shimada smiled. "I prefer to play black, given the choice. You go first."
*
Alone in the elevator, Shimada loosened his shoulders and spoke to his son openly.
"When did you last see Genji?"
Hanzo growled, "Before getting dressed. I took my eyes off him long enough to have a shower."
Shimada grinned at his feet. "Silly of you."
Hanzo didn't reply.
"I'm sure he'll find us at the station tomorrow, if all else fails."
"Or he'll turn up in a week."
"Nonsense. You both have training on Monday evening. He never misses that."
"Mm."
The LED display ticked from 38 down to 37. 36, 35, 34…
"You're mad at him," Shimada chuckled.
Hanzo kept staring straight ahead. "Yes, I am."
"Try not to be."
"I refuse. And we've had this conversation so many times that it has lost all purpose, so forgive me if I just skip it."
Hanzo winced at the sharp slap across his temple. The old man could still make a move before Hanzo had time to blink.
"I apologise for my insolence, father."
"I forgive you. Don't do it again."
Hanzo turned to face his father. "You must understand why I get angry! At a certain point, it is the carpenter's fault for continuing to use the broken saw! Genji made you look idiotic in front of Iwata's entire cabinet!"
"Did you think I looked foolish, then?"
"His behavior is getting worse. How much has he been spending?"
"I'm aware of your feelings about your brother."
"Then why do you--"
Hanzo bit his lip and angrily breathed out, like a dragon. Goaded into another spat about Genji, and as usual nothing would change.
He pressed the number for the nearest floor and got out early, leaving his father to ride alone.
*
Hanzo took the stairs the rest of the way to his suite.He changed out of his charcoal suit into a polo and swim shorts. He placed a call to hospitality, watched ten minutes of news, then rode the elevator to the fourth floor. He overlooked the ground floor, a valley of polished obsidian beneath a balcony made of gold rails and ice-blue energy beams. He crossed the wooden bridge over a three-storey artificial falls, water rushing over flat river stones just under where his feet walked.
He slipped through a gilded door that read 'SPA'.
A flash of artificial light on a cloudy chrome surface sent a twinge down his arms and legs, a just-noticeable shot of adrenaline. The clerk at this antechamber's desk, standing with perfect programmed posture, was a bare-faced Omnic. Japan's slice of the global Omnic Crisis had been expressed most critically through the Skindolls, which wore outer coverings that made them completely indistinguishable from humans; so, it was paradoxical that seeing them without their flesh covering still made Hanzo uncomfortable, since in truth it signified passivity.
It wore a vest and tie like a human. It bowed to him, like a human.
"Shimada-sama, konbanwa," it trilled. Its voice sounded permanently auto-tuned. "The spa area has been emptied and cordoned as you requested."
"I should hope so. I gave you enough time."
The machine bowed again. "Please sign in right here." It handed him a tablet and stylus. Hanzo did as it asked. "Here is your locker key. The onsen is to your right, the gym to your left. The pool area--"
"I'll find my way somehow." Hanzo started towards the locker room.
"Please remember to rinse your feet."
Hanzo's eyes flicked back to the Omnic. His fingers twitched. The machine was just following a service protocol, making no distinction between a Japanese national like Hanzo and the hotel's overwhelming number of gaijin guests. In their own strange way, the Omnics were always out of step with custom, marking them as gaijin themselves-- even when they had been designed and manufactured on Japanese soil.
Hanzo forgave the insult and kept walking, but his blood still urged him to twist the thing's head off. They had souls, it was being said now; if you revenged them, they could feel it, and they would know why.
In the locker room, Hanzo stripped in solitude. A labyrinthine tattoo of a dragon, fangs bared and riding a lightning storm, painted his entire back and left arm. At any other onsen in the country, you'd be turned out for so much as a heart stamp on your wrist, or a butterfly on your calf. This blanket policy shared by an entire culture was designed precisely to keep people like Hanzo out.
In this hotel they bent over backwards for Shimada Hanzo, because they knew what was good for them.
Clutching a towel around his waist, Hanzo hummed an old tune to himself, one he couldn't remember where he heard, as his thick feet slapped the stone floor on the path to the onsen. He dipped his feet in the shallow pool provided, but not because the robot had asked him to.
The lush plants and black stone in here were all real, brought in and placed by hand to perfectly recreate the scene of a rural hot spring, but with a roof and walls that lent the privacy of your own living room. Hanzo realised immediately, however, that he was not alone. For a moment he was livid; but just for a moment.
The young man lay with his head back, perched on the craggy stone lip of the pool and partially submerged. His eyes were closed. He swirled a hand towel in the water, a long white eel moving in continuous circles. Hanzo watched as every so often, the young man lifted the soaked towel and wrung it over his face and chest, sighing with delight when the hot water splashed on his skin. He did it so slowly and so regularly it drew to mind a shishi-odoshi fountain in some serene garden.
This was Takahashi, one of the Shimada-gumi's accountants. Hanzo knew the man. How did he sneak in here? Curious.
Hanzo climbed a small flight of steps and stood at full height on the spring's edge.
"You're an imbecile," Hanzo said, his tone deliberately ambiguous.
Takahashi opened his eyes and his head lolled to the side. "Aah?" he groaned, inviting Hanzo to complete his thought.
"I saw the color of flesh in my peripheral vision. My hand flew, instantly, to the hidden blade which is never away from my person. My immediate instinct was to throw it and lodge it in your neck while you lazed over there with your fool eyes shut. I asked for this place to be empty, and took you for a killer. Lucky you-- I hesitated, for which I am unbelievably aggravated with myself. How will you make it right?"
Takahashi smiled, and giggled. His wet hair strung over his eyes.
"A hidden blade?" he said, eyeing Hanzo up and down. "I don't see many hiding places."
Hanzo sniffed. "It could be up my ass."
Takahashi blinked, then rattled with high-pitched laughter. He covered his mouth, but the whites of his teeth still glimpsed out behind his hand. He had a wide smile.
He was adorable.
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