Anare
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“I have to go,” Hanzo whispers, quiet enough that someone else might not have noticed, but this is Genji.
He’s been listening to Hanzo whisper in the dark all their lives.
“You don’t,” Genji replies, just as softly, and Hanzo tucks his face into Genji’s pillow again. It hurts when he swallows, like there’s something lodged in his throat.
Like he’s bitten off more than he can chew.
“I do.” Hanzo breathes in. Holds until it stings. “But…” He trails off, and waits for Genji to finish for him— he’s always been better at that.
Finishing things.
“But you’ll find me?” Hanzo nods, and Genji sees it, even so far away. “Want me to make it easy on you?”
When Hanzo breathes out, it’s laughter.
“You never have before, why would you start now?”
Genji is quiet for a moment. Hanzo can almost taste him.
“Anija, I’ve always been easy for you.”
Genji has always been everything for him, but it hasn’t been easy in a long, long time.
Series
- Part 2 of Repeat
Bookmarked by Anare
11 Jul 2026
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Hanzo has been waiting for this, the way a condemned man waits for the gallows; with dread, and inevitability. There might have been a time when he looked forward to it, once, when he was very young. When dragons seemed like a gift instead of a burden.
Hanzo wasn’t young for long; Sojiro saw to that. Took that from him, the way he takes everything else. The way he carves out anything that isn’t made in his image to leave Hanzo hollow. There’s no more wide-eyed anticipation at the thought of dragons.
Now there is fear, and the promise of pain.
Now there is Hanzo kneeling on the floor of the temple, Sojiro looking down at him with eyes that glow crimson in the dark, they’ll kill you if you let them, Hanzo. You have to prove you’re worthy.
You’re a Shimada. Don’t forget.
He has tried to forget, and failed a thousand times. This won’t be any different.
Bookmarked by Anare
10 Jul 2026
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Hanzo’s sleep isn’t always easy. His chest is rising and falling faster than it should be, eyes roving wildly behind his lids. He makes a whining noise low in his throat, and Genji sits up and lays a palm on his cheek.
“Hanzo, hey. Hanzo.” Genji can’t leave him there, languishing in nightmares. “Anija, wake up.”
Hanzo’s lids fly open, eyes unfocused as blinks at Genji. When the drowsiness fades some, he jerks away from him, inhaling sharply. There’s raw fear in his gaze like Genji hasn’t seen in years, and never directed at him. Hanzo lets out a ragged breath, laced with a frantic whimper.
“Hanzo?” Genji says, almost wounded. Hanzo blinks a few more times, then relaxes slowly as the confusion clears.
“I’m sorry, I… for a moment, I thought you were...” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, settling back down next to Genji in bed. “There’s so much grey in your hair, now. For a moment you looked just like father.”
It feels instantaneous, how quickly Hanzo drifts back to sleep. Minutes, or hours. Genji doesn’t know. He stares at the ceiling trying to breathe through smoke, eyes wide and unblinking.
Just like father, he thinks, and climbs out of bed.
Bookmarked by Anare
10 Jul 2026
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They talk in whispers pressed together in the dark, all ragged inhales and bitten off little whimpers. The castle is so quiet this late at night that every noise feels like a sacrilege.
As if what they’re doing isn’t blasphemous enough. They’re sweating and breathless, swollen lips and shaking fingers; the sheets are tangled around them.
Genji is tangled around Hanzo.
He’s nestled up between Hanzo’s thighs, rocking into him in slow movements— grinding when he’s seated deep, covering Hanzo’s mouth with his palm to muffle sounds he makes. The sounds he always makes when there is too much of Genji and he wants every bit of him anyway. Wants more, because Genji doesn’t hurt like everything else.
Because Genji is there to soothe away the sting, oh, Hanzo, come here, I’ve got you—
Genji brushes messy black strands out of Hanzo’s face. His mouth is wet from Genji’s kisses. His cheeks are damp with tears. His eye is black from Sojiro’s fist; Genji doesn’t need light to see Hanzo.
Genji knows Hanzo by heart.
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Bookmarked by Anare
10 Jul 2026
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Pseudosomatic pain responses, the doctor says with an unhappy frown, like he’s giving some terminal diagnosis. Jesse and his mother just stare blankly, and so he continues, gesturing vaguely towards Jesse’s arm.
Empathic feedback.
Empathic feedback, Jesse parrots, words sounding misplaced coming out of his mouth.
Jesse has a soulmate somewhere— an empath partner, except only doctors and scientists and teachers call them that. They’re hurting, and so Jesse is hurting. Most empathic links don’t form until a lot further on in life; late teens, early twenties. Jesse doesn’t know anyone his age with a soulmate link already.
When there is significant physical or emotional trauma, the doctor says, looking between Jesse and his mother with dark eyes, the link can form early, as a defense mechanism. It’s involuntary. Someone gets injured in an accident, or suffers some sort of significant loss or abuse, and they reach out instinctively.
Jesse’s soulmate is in pain, and alone.
Bookmarked by Anare
10 Jul 2026