second chance ~ a mchanzo fanfic

We'll meet again

{credit to tiredhomeboi on Instagram}
(This chapter is only focusing on hanzo. All dialogue in brackets is Japanese)

The room was dimly lit with the kind first rays of dawn when I walked out of the bathroom. My eyes struggled to adjust but I still proceeded to prepare my hair into a top knot - It took multiple attempts until I was satisfied.

As I analyzed my outfit again, we'll meet again started playing. As a good routine holds a good playlist, I was hit with a sense of nostalgia with the few opening notes. It takes me back to my first moments with Jesse - when he attempted to punch me for the sake of Genji. Our rivalry became friendly competition, from those competitions became meetings and soon, meetings became dates.

I was about to leave when Saké and Soba started purring and nudging eagerly around my shoulder. After multiple attempts of demanding and pulling them away, I decided to look at my reflection once more to determine what was causing my dragons to act like this. There was what looked like a dark mark in the shape of a snout peeking from underneath my right sleeve. As I lifted my sleeve, my body went tense when I was greeted by the clan's symbol. There was only one dragon in a half circle with a sizable head and its body thinning where the second dragon's head would have met. I immediately stripped my polo and changed into a black turtleneck that was accompanied with a simple gold chain. Now that I have this mark, I could complete it with a tattoo- after all, it was their gate to my body. My dragons began whining but immediately retreated to the laundry basket when my mother's shouting and Rocket's barking echoed in my room. I immediately turned off my speaker and began saying goodbye to my dragons as I prepared my messenger bag.

I followed her voice downstairs into the kitchen. My father was already gone but had left some food on the table for me. My mother glared at me silently while I ate and finally broke the silence, "How long will you have this haircut for?" I abruptly dropped my fork, unsure how to respond. My mother disagreed with long hair due to its feminine look and it took years just for her to agree on letting it grow out for a top knot. Father was fine with it. Why does it concern her? "It should not concern you." I heard myself snarl as I got out of my seat and left. How barbaric of her to attempt to commence an argument so early in the morning.

                                                               ~.~

Upon entering the campus, I was greeted by Kimberly, one of my first friends in middle school. She wore a black bomber jacket with a white shirt underneath and jeans. Her raven black hair was pulled into a tight and slender braid with her bangs pushed to the side of her forehead. "Hello Luke! What's your schedule? Maybe we have classes together." I skimmed through my messenger bag and eventually pulled out the slip. A small groan escapes her,

"We only have 2 classes together and they're with the worst teachers."

She points to math and history.

"My father told me many stories about the math teacher. He gives a ton of work and hardly teaches the material. The history teacher tells way too many stories of his summers as a theme park worker and because of that, he throws a bunch of lessons at you last minute. My father and his friends barely passed."

I responded with an annoyed look - I have been through worse with the clan elders. The bell rang and students began to disperse, creating chaos in the hallways. Upon entering the crowd, Kimberly latches onto my sleeve and surges through, unafraid to push someone if necessary.

After 3 minutes of grappling through the crowd, We finally reached our destination. The bell rang once more, implying that there was not much time left in the passing period. The surrounding classrooms were tedious, walls were painted a boring shade of beige and were chipped at in some areas. The concrete surrounding a few bushes was cracked and seating areas on the side had bigger holes than intended, broken parts pushed down making the spot more uncomfortable. Kimberly finally let go of my sleeve and proceeded to walk inside the classroom labeled 'M-1'.