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“Your thoughts have been troubled lately, Kenshi.”
The two of them were behind Hanzo’s quarters, practicing their kata in the forest. The other ninjas in the clan were inside the training dojo, doing their morning routines, far from where the Grandmaster and the swordsman stood.
“Are you a telepath too now?” Kenshi cracked a smile in the middle of his exercises, before returning back to his regular meditation stance. Perhaps his thoughts have been rather dark, as of late. But there was no reason Hanzo needed to know that.
“You have stopped caring for you physical appearance,” the ninja pointed out. He changed his stance and moved onto a new set of kata. He stopped for a moment to look over at his friend. “You must be troubled. I can think of no other reason for you to run around with a bush attached to your chin.”
Kenshi broke his stance to stroke his chin. It had been months, nearly a year, since he had seen Master Hasashi. It had been a long few months, chasing the Red Dragon and running away from the bad memories they left him with. The man barely had time to feed himself or sleep, let alone shave. His beard was overgrown and unkempt- nothing at all like the well-trimmed facial hair that Hanzo sported. “Would you prefer me without?”
Hanzo snorted in disagreement. “It matters not what I prefer. But if you are going to keep it, you ought to keep it well-maintained.” Hanzo rather liked the thought of Kenshi with a beard. In fact, he liked the idea more than he cared to admit. But the way it was currently, he looked as though he lived off of the streets.
“Shaving is not really my forte.” Kenshi chuckled. He went back to his katas, practicing a strong fighting stance before pulling out Sento. He spun the sword around twice before putting it back away. “Do you have any suggestions, Master Hasashi?”
Hanzo frowned. He had hoped that after their last meeting, Kenshi would have remembered to address him more informally. He knew it was a selfish thing to ask, but he enjoyed the sound of his name off of the swordsman’s tongue. Still, he steeled his resolve and tucked these thoughts and feelings away before there was a chance the telepath could pick up on them. As far as he could tell, Kenshi had no intentions on carrying their friendship further than it needed to go. And Hanzo was not willing to press for more.
“I will take care of it,” Hanzo finally said, breaking his own stance to stand up straight. “We still have plenty of time before the students will be done with their routines. This way.”
Kenshi followed Hanzo’s presence with ease, heading back to the man’s quarters. Hanzo stepped quietly, careful not to alert anyone of their whereabouts. However, the man’s breathing and warmth was easy enough to sense, and Kenshi found it simple to follow the man wherever he led.
The door of Hanzo’s cabin shut behind them. “Sit,” Hanzo commanded, pointing towards the table where the two often sat for casual meals. Kenshi couldn’t help but enjoy the authoritative tone in the man’s voice. He had heard it before, but never directed towards him. He sat down, leaning back on his arms and smiled to himself while thinking about the other situations where Hanzo could use that deep and directive voice.
Hanzo walked over to a small dresser near his bed and pulled out his grooming kit, thinking briefly to himself why he was even bothering with all of this. He could just as easily get Kenshi to shave it all off and be done with it. Still, there was a part of him that genuinely did want to see what his friend would look like with a well-trimmed beard. His eyes raked the man over, stretched out casually on his floor as though he belonged there. Hanzo cursed to himself, wondering if the man had any clue what he was doing to the ninja.
Finally, he grabbed the kit and filled a small ball full of water. “You are well practiced in this,” Kenshi said idly, just before Hanzo sat on the floor in front of him. “I never thought the great Master Hasashi would be one to care about physical appearance.”
Hanzo began to wet and lather his friend’s face, frowning at Kenshi’s words. In truth, Hanzo put more stock into physical appearance than he’d like to admit. It didn’t feel long ago at all that Hanzo’s face was nothing more than bone. Now he had flesh and blood and hair. It felt foreign and strange, but it felt real. “I value it for reasons beyond vanity, Swordsman.”
Kenshi chucked, sitting up a little straighter and rolling his head back to give Hanzo better access. “Just an observation. No need to get cross.” Kenshi seemed to understand on some level, without the Shirai-Ryu outright telling him. Hanzo merely grunted before returning to preparing the other man’s face.
He ran the cream along Kenshi’s throat, savoring the way Kenshi swallowed underneath his fingers. He was submissive like this, willing and patient for Hanzo’s touch. Immediately, he removed his hands and went to pulling out the razors. He was not a stranger to impure thoughts about the other man. But he certainly did not want any of these thoughts leaking out while he was around the telepath.
“You’re pretty good with your hands, Hanzo.” Kenshi added with a small smile on his face.
Hanzo nearly slipped and spilled the mixing bowl all over the ground, catching himself at the last instant. Kenshi had to be doing this on purpose, finally using his first name just to say something like that. But the ninja was better trained than he let his pulse quicken for too long. Quickly, he steadied himself and shot a glare at Kenshi that he knew would translate even past the blindness.
Kenshi only chuckled and enjoyed the gentle ministrations across his throat and to the bottom of his chin. Were this 10 years ago, he would have been surprised at Hanzo’s gentleness. But now he knew the softer side of the man. The side that put value into both life and death. The side that opened up his dojo to refugees from the Outworld war. The side that took in his son and raised him as his own.
Kenshi let Hanzo move his head around as needed. Hanzo cleaned the razor and ran his hand across the newly cleaned skin around his throat. Kenshi sighed, just a little, to see if he could encourage his friend. However, at the slightest sound and movement, the other man removed his hand. The swordsman wasn’t surprised, but couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
He wanted Hanzo. And he was fairly certain that Hanzo wanted him in turn. And while Kenshi was very good at getting what he wanted, he knew he had to play this one right. It was an unusual dance, gently nudging and flirting and waiting for him to make the first move. It was a slow dance, but Kenshi was willing to move at whatever pace Hanzo set.
“Your son.” Hanzo decided to make conversation while beginning to clean up the edges on the top of the beard. Kenshi tilted his head just a little interest, encouraging the other man to continue. “He’s doing well.” He felt a little bit stupid for saying it. Takeda was always doing well. He took direction brilliantly and had a good eye for form. He suspected that Suchin had taught him some swordplay before Kenshi had brought him to the clan. “He is still reserved in his fighting though. I feel there is hidden courage and ferocity deep inside of him waiting to come out.”
Kenshi did not respond for a long time. His thoughts had been wandering towards Takeda as of late- and Suchin as well. His nightmares had become more frequent as he dedicated more time to fighting the Red Dragon. He could almost still taste the blood in the air from the day he found the woman surrounded by the bodies of her assailants. He could almost still hear Takeda’s screams. And the guilt pierced him like a razor to his throat.
Still, Hanzo had no reason to know how much it haunted him. The man had his own demons to chase down and conquer. He merely gave his friend a small smile. “I had no doubt. He will grow up well, thanks to you.”
Hanzo caught on immediately though, without a single other word spoken between them. He turned his attention back to Kenshi’s facial hair for a long moment, frustrated and trying to think of what he really wanted to say. Finally, with some difficulty, he managed to find the words. “You had more of a hand in raising him than you think.”
But the rest he could not say; his words too powerful for the ninja to manage to say out loud. So instead he stilled his hands and closed his eyes for a brief instant, letting the thought overtake him.
Without you, I would not be the man I am today.
If Kenshi had caught the thought, he did not react to it. Instead, he just rolled his head to the side and allowed Hanzo to begin trimming and shaping the actual beard. Despite Hanzo’s hesitation towards this type of intimacy, Kenshi was thoroughly enjoying this. He liked the feeling of Hanzo’s deft fingers on his chin and the heat of the man’s steady gaze. Kenshi had to admit that it was affecting him a little, having Hanzo’s undivided attention on him like this.
The two continued in silence, consumed in their own thoughts about the other. Kenshi found his thoughts turning towards the small quarters, and how comfortable it was to find peace here. He had come back after several months away looking precisely for that: peace. It felt strange finding that with a former wraith from hell, while hiding away from a son who refused to even talk about him. Yet here he was.
Finally, Kenshi heard the sound of Hanzo putting the blades and cutting tools away. “Done?”
“Until you run off another revenge quest and forget to shave,” Hanzo said, the words coming out a little more stern than he intended.
“Revenge quest, huh?” Kenshi smiled just a little bit, not needing to mention the irony in Hanzo’s judgement. It didn’t really need to be said. Instead, he ran his hands over his facial hair, feeling the softer, shorter hair along his face. It felt interesting, but not in a bad way. He had never bothered with facial hair for very long, but it certainly felt better than the itchy sensation that came with hair growing in. “How do I look?”
Incredible. The thought slipped through before Hanzo could control it. The beard suited Kenshi. The man was getting older, with firmer muscles and rounder features than when Hanzo first met him. The beard completed him; it complimented his age, rather than adding to it. He was probably staring a little too much, but he had trouble pulling his eyes away. “It suits you.”
Kenshi could feel how badly Hanzo wanted to say something more. How badly he wanted to move in and feel Kenshi’s beard against his skin. But he could also feel that Hanzo was not ready, full of trepidation and insecurity. Another time, then. He decided. “It’s all thanks to your handiwork.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “But, you have students who are likely looking for you.”
Truthfully, Hanzo had forgotten about the students in the dojo. It was nearly time for endurance training and the Grand Master had work to do. But he would never admit that he let being with Kenshi get in the way of his duty. “Don’t question my teaching schedule, Kenshi.”
He stood up carefully and put his shaving supplies away, and went to dump the water from the rinsing bowl. Kenshi, meanwhile, grabbed Sento and reattached the sword to his back, ready to leave. Hanzo’s tone calmed down significantly. “You will be back.” It wasn’t a question.
“I have to. After all, my barber lives around here,” Kenshi said jovially, heading towards the door and holding it open for Hanzo. The man followed his friend out, heading towards the dojo while Kenshi faced towards the forest. “Farewell, Hanzo.”
Hanzo closed his eyes for a brief moment, just savoring the name on Kenshi’s lips. He then nodded. “I will see you soon.” It was more of promise to himself than to Kenshi, but it made him feel better nonetheless. He would ponder over when he became such a love-struck fool later on, perhaps alone in the dojo while dodging sleep. For now, he just enjoyed the way the man bowed towards him and took his leave into the forest.
Neither of them knew what was brewing with the kamidogu daggers, or that they might not be able to see each other for a long, long time.