Chapter Text
It is to be duly noted that works from the Kamakura period oft feature darker, more somber tones when held in comparison to the those of the previousformer era. Works of the Kamakura era boast the themes of life and death, in addition to the theme of simple lifestyles. It is troubling that in many of great tales of this era, there is the pervasive idea of redemption and peace through killing. In this essay, the author will prove using textual evidence that this shift in theme is because of the decline in-
His eyes swim as he reads the page, the suggestions and changes all muddling together. He's been up for too long, and he is feeling nauseous because of it. He sends an apology to the person who submitted it for him to read, explaining that he will get back to them in three hours.
It is a cheap skill to have, being able to edit a student's paper about Japanese art for less than the cost of two meals. This website is a godsend for the wretched like him. Hanzo doesn't have the brain capacity for anything else right now so he closes his laptop.
His thermos is empty, sitting in a cup holder. He is tired, and he supposes that the hyper train he is on was secure enough for him to get some rest, at least for a few hours. He's entirely alone in the car. Something, more accurately, someone has made people no longer as interested in taking the hyper train any more. Hanzo doesn't really care about train robberies, or about cowboy criminals. He doesn't have anything to steal, and he would like to see the outlaw try to rob him. He bunches up his jacket, nestles in, leaning against the window with his arms crossed over his chest.
He wakes up at the first ominous creak. His hands twitch where they are tucked against his body. His reflexes make him pick up the nearest thing and throw it. A metallic clang is let out as his bright pink atrocity of a thermos connects with the head of an omnic.
Gunshots prattle off as the Omnic falls. They crash into a human, and the both collapse under the weight.
The Omnic's facial lights go dark, core punctured by a bullet fired from the human, and Hanzo dashes from his seat. He disarms the man, takes the gun. Shoots once. Twice. The worst part about being ambushed in transit is that he never knows if it is better to stay and fortify, or to flee.
Either way, this will end up being bloodier than it is currently. He gathers his stuff, including his thrown thermos, which has his DNA evidence. He pulls on his gloves and wipes down all that he thinks he has touched with a wipe, one hand remaining on the stolen gun at any given moment.
Eyes scanning for danger. The train, oddly, is stationary.
He opens the window and climbs onto the roof. The hyper train is stopped.
In the middle of a farmer's field. There are armed forces on one side.
As far as Hanzo can tell, they aren't on the other. Amateurs. Shouts. Anger. Gunshots. He's off the train now, rolling in the grass.
Nothing a quick hypo-spray wouldn't manage in a day or two. He checks the compass on his shorts and determines that he's heading in exactly the right direction for the remainder of his marching orders.</p>