Hanzo goes window shopping for the first time in a very long time. When they were teenagers, Genji used to convince him to pick out some new clothing style. He never actually wore it, however, and such things always ended up at the back of his closet. Or when he was locked away in his room after an argument with Genji, they would end up in the trash.
Hanzo never had the time nor luxury of worrying over such frivolous things.
Hanzo realizes he’s passed the same storefront three times now, the same jacket catching his eye. He immediately tries to justify it simply as a garment that will help him blend in better. His kyuudo gi has outworn its welcome in this place.
Hanzo hesitates again, his eyes falling over the high quality fabric and extra pockets adorning the front.
Once more, he has to remind himself that there is no one remaining to judge him. No clan to lord over, no father to impress.
He can do this—/will/ do this—for one person, and one person only.
At thirty-eight years of age, Hanzo Shimada is finally learning how to be himself.
“We hope you enjoy the coat!” The cashier says with a shy smile.
“I…think I will.” Hanzo replies, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.