a fateful night in Amegakure (part iii)

Of course, they would attack me when I can’t defend myself. I think. Don’t have the guts to come at me when I’m at full power. No, they wait until they know I can’t do anything but wait for them to come and finish me off. Bastards.

“We will protect you, Hanzo-Sensei,” one of my men whispers from the door. These four men decided to be the final defense against the enemy and are waiting to for the enemy to burst through the doors of my Quarters. They plan to perform a sneak attack if that happens. When that happens.

I can tell by the groaning and screaming outside that it’s no longer a matter of if, but when. How strange it is to know that in a matter of moments, I’ll be dead. I wonder if the boys can sense it too; their impending demise. They seem so sure of themselves – like they’ll really be able to make the difference when everyone else has failed.

They don’t even see the shuriken coming as they pierce each of their skulls and they fall to the ground. Dead.

I sure as hell don’t plan on going out like that. I slide my hand behind my back, hiding my Kusarigama behind my back so it can’t be seen.

I let out a sigh, “So, are you going to stay out there forever?”

Just as the last word leaves my mouth the doors – as well as part of the wall – flies inward toward me. The shrapnel barely misses me.

As the dust clears I see a man standing with his arm extended, and his open palm facing me. He has on a black cloak, which is covered with red circles. Clouds, it looks like. His spiky bright orange hair seems familiar, but once I see the piercings that cover his face and ears I realize that I must be mistaken. I’m sure I’d remember seeing a face like that.

As the dust settles I see that he’s not alone; there’s not just one pierced freak, there’s six of them, each with the same orange hair and piercings across their faces and ears. They also all have the same eyes.

Something about those eyes..

“And who the hell are you all supposed to be?” I spit at them.

They don’t respond.

“So, you come all the way down here to take me out and don’t even want to tell me who you are? Fine. Who sent you?”

Still no response.

I am getting frustrated. If you’re going to kill someone you should at least do them the curtesy of letting them know why it is they’re going to die.

“Did the Village send you? Are you all Hunter-Nin?”

Still, they remain silent.

“Look here, I’m getting tired of your disrespe-”

A kunai flies by my face, leaving a slight cut on my cheek. I was looking right at him, but I didn’t even see him so much as move to pull it out. I’ve never seen reflexes that fast.

“Hanzo of the Salamander,” he finally says. His voice is deeper than I expected, “we meet again.”

“Again?” I ask.

So, I have met this man before. But where?

“You do not remember.” he says, not asks. I notice a hint of anger in his voice.

“I do not.” I reply, “Should I?”

One of the other men clenches his fist. I look at his face – a burly gentlemen with his long orange hair tied back into a ponytail – and I’m sure that I’ve never laid eyes on him before.

“You should,” the first man says. 

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have a clue who you are.”
 
“Then perhaps I should remind you.” He takes a step forward, stepping within range of my Kusarigama.

I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ll somehow take them all down with me, but if I can slit this ones’ throat, well, then I can die knowing I went out fighting.

“Please do.” I say, hoping he’ll take another step forward.

He does.

There’s no time like the present.

I pull my sickle from behind my back and toss it as fast as I can. It’s inches away from slicing through his neck when it stops, as if it hit a wall, and falls to the ground, clanking until it finally stays flat on the floor.

Damnit. What the hell was that?

The man’s expression doesn’t change. It doesn’t make sense. Even if he is fast, there’s no way he should have been able to stop that. There wasn’t enough time to perform a hand seal or anything. That should have hit.

“What the hell is up with you?” I ask. “What kind of Jutsu are you using?”

He ignores the question and says, “Seven years ago. A night much like this one. You met with two young men. Do you remember?”

“Two young men?” I ask, perplexed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve met with many men, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You were to speak with them on coming up with an idea to implement peace. True peace.”

Oh no.

“But instead you chose to betray them.”

He takes a step forward.

Oh shit.

“Instead you chose to go against them.”

Another step forward.

Oh damnit.

“Instead you chose to try and kill them.”

He is standing right over me.

I finally understand.

“No.” I say, my voice trailing off.

“Yes.” He replies, his cold eyes staring down at me. I have never felt more weak or powerless. I have never been filled with more regret than in this moment, knowing that I brought this on myself.

He continues to look down at me and all I can see are his grey eyes. The eyes of a monster. A monster of my own creation.

“Tell me Hanzo. Do you remember my face?”

Yes, boy. I remember.

He sees to it that I’ll never forget.

 

Image from Static.ComicVine