Hanzō stared up at the talking panda named Panda unblinkingly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before sighing exasperatedly.
"I must still be tripping."
♡
In which Itadori Yuuji has a twin brot...
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This is Hanzō's faceclaim
♡
Itadori Hanzō couldn't bear it anymore.
Persistent monsters clawed at him relentlessly, no matter where he walked. They gazed at him with pitiful indifference and repeated lines of clueless and incomprehensible words.
He just wants them to go away, to leave him alone.
Some do. They scuttle passed him and disappear into the dark crevices of the room. Others do not. They cling onto him like flies on horse shit and whisper distorted syllables into his ears, driving him mad.
He killed one before. A long time ago. The thing's persistence in grating his ears was too much. Too much for an eight year old. His mind went fuzzy like static on old programs and box TVs. His body followed motions he couldn't control or remember and would likely never be able to replicate. He awoke to an ignorant Yuuji and the thing fragmenting into dust beside him.
Hanzō loves his brother. Yuuji is practically the only thing he can rely on, the oasis in the blazing desert keeping him alive, sane.
Hanzō looks up to his brother, his never-ending brightness and ignorance to all things bad in the world.
Hanzō also knows that he will never be able to compare to his brother. Neither physically or in mentality.
Yuuji is too strong, too bright, too optimistic, and cheerful. He is someone Hanzō will forever have to squint at whenever he wishes to gaze at him. He is too far up, too bright for Hanzō to ever be able to remember any type of detail of his.
Hanzō hides away from him. Even though he knows his brother would never deny him a warm embrace, because Hanzō knows it would just burn him further.
♡
Hanzō grew, as all children do. His round angelic face became sharper, slightly more so than Yuuji's, and his light but bright pink hair grew longer. He didn't cut it as Yuuji did, instead he let it fall in front of his eyes. Hopefully obscuring the monsters no one else could see.
Hanzō thought he was crazy. He must be, to be able to see something so demonic everyday when everyone else could not. The days grew more tortuous when his bangs did nothing to shield him from them. He'd do anything to be able to get rid of them, anything at all.
An A-class delinquent and his group sat on the rooftop with cigarettes and lunch sandwiches shared between them, Hanzō sitting far to their left, hidden in the corner. He watched the cigarette smoke with fascination, observing how it curled and danced in whisps.
Hanzō approached the group, listening to their crass talk without interest.
