[Written for Gency Week, Day 4; updated with fanart 7 Jan]
mild profanity, and the antics of a spoilt younger son.
Summary: A different take on Genji’s origin story. Genji unexpectedly crosses paths with Mercy while she’s on a mission.
“Genji-sama. The Boss wants to see you.”
Obscured by the steam of the hot springs, Genji couldn’t tell if Nishida was grimacing or smiling. Maybe neither. All those old dogs who had worked for his father for decades, they knew how to conceal their emotions.
So Hanzo was looking for him, eh? No doubt to give him another tongue lashing about the ‘Shimada Legacy’. Since their father’s death, his elder brother had become insufferably uptight about growing the Clan’s influence. Well, let the damn empire crumble. There was nothing noble about the Shimada Clan. Born out of the dark and secretive ways of the ninja, in modern times it was no more than a criminal syndicate.
“You enjoy being an errand boy, Nishida?” Genji sneered.
“Errand boy is fine. What I don’t enjoy is being a babysitter.”
That stung. Genji rose from the bath and flung a wet towel at the old gangster. Nishida didn’t dodge and it struck him across the face with a sodden slap.
“Hanzo can keep waiting.”
Nishida shook off the towel and it fell to the floor. For a moment he hesitated, as if deliberating whether to say more.
“You have a problem, old man?”
When Nishida opened his mouth again, it was neither angry nor frustrated, just matter-of-fact. “It’s not just the Boss that has changed, Genji-sama. It’s a different inner circle now. The Old Master wouldn’t have liked it. I don’t like it. But it is what it is. We all need to watch out.” He paused and then turned to the door. “I’ll wait outside. We must go meet the Boss quickly.”
Genji scowled and pulled on his clothes. Peeking between the wooden panels of the sliding door, he could see a black limo and three men in dark jackets. His brother’s current right-hand man, Udaijin, was perched on the hood smoking a cigarette and looking at his watch. Genji was always being monitored, being judged. When he put a foot wrong, no-one in the Clan would dare physically attack him, but word would get to Hanzo and life was made unbearable for him in other ways.
Forget Hanamura. He needed to get lost in a mega-city, to bury himself in the chaos and the crowds. A few days in Tokyo living it up would cool his anger. Even the danger of trespassing the territory of other mobs – Tokyo was not under Shimada control – was nothing compared to the poisonous atmosphere here. Genji made his way to the second floor of the bath house, with little effort vaulted onto the roof of the next building, and was off.