Backstage Pass to Mortal Kombat

Chapter 9 - Crying For You

Chapter 9 - Crying For You

"I'm Hanzo," He held out his hand to shake mine. When I didn't hold out my hand, he reached up and untied his mask, revealing dark chocolate brown hair and a chiseled face. His full lips smirked at me, "I believe we've met."

He was right; we had met. I wished we hadn’t, though. I was angry, but I didn’t want to be angry with Hanzo; he hadn’t done anything to make me angry at him. Of course, I didn’t even know whom I was angry with – myself; for not expecting the fighter to be anyone, and not just Keanu? I had just assumed I was right and got my heart wrapped around the possibility the fighter was Keanu. How could I have been so stupid, so naïve? The frown on my face never once faded into anything else, I simply let my emotions show. My jaw, still throbbing from Liu’s punch, clenched with anger.

A throat cleared beside us, bringing me out of my thoughts. Raiden stepped forward, looking into my eyes. “Zak, why don’t you take Hanzo Hasashi to his hut? I’m sure he would like to clean up before dinner.”

Bowing my head in reply, I spun on my heel and began storming out of the tent, kicking up sand as I stepped outside, not waiting for Hanzo to follow behind. The sound of footsteps rushing to keep up with me was enough, though, and so I continued. His servants were already waiting outside of his hut, standing perfectly still, like they had earlier. The sight angered me more and I spun around, suddenly face to face with the pair of gold eyes that were already burned into my memory. “Why do you already have slaves? Why do I have to take care of you? Four should be enough!” I snapped.

A smirk smoothed over his face, making me fume even more. “I was forced to bring them with me. They’re supposed to take notes mostly, watching what Raiden and his crew are doing. You, however, are the only one ‘taking care of me’ as you put it.”

This didn’t really answer my question. Couldn’t these people take notes and scrub his floors, do his laundry, make his bed? And why does he get an actual bed, and I get a cot? I already hated him, and I hadn’t even spent ten minutes with the man.

“Sound ridiculous,” I sniffed, turning back around and storming forward. As we approached, the slaves bowed down to Hanzo, offering their bags of gold, silk, and other treats. I rolled my eyes at their pathetic gestures as I stepped into his hut. It was three times as large as mine, and much more elaborate. I was jealous, I’ll be the first to admit it, but I wasn’t about to let that show. If he asked, I loved my hut, and I’d stretch the truth until it snapped.

Hanzo entered, too, looking around the room with approval. “It’s nice. A little rough around the edges, but it doesn’t matter, I’m sure I can spruce it up with my pillow.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me as he held out a raggedy pillow he must have gotten from his servants. “I’m sure a beautiful woman like you has a room just as good, maybe even better–”

“Oh cut the crap; how is Keanu?” I demanded. He had promised me he would watch out for Keanu, and I didn’t forget. The only reason I didn’t quit on the spot was because I wanted information, and lots of it.

“Who’s Keanu?” He asked.

“You little!–”

“Calm down, I was just pulling your leg.” He sighed, walking around me to his bed. He put down his pillow, took off his long leather coat, revealing strong arms and the ripped up yellow sweats I had seen before. He was back to his old self as he turned back to me, sitting on the edge of his bed.