Hanzo watched with impatient eyes as his cousin lowered his bow. At this point, he was unsure whether he would rather have himself be killed by his last remaining family member, or for said family member to give back his most precious belonging and let him go as he so desired. The first would take away any other problem that had plagued his mind either for a long time or only recently... But then again, Hanzo, too, knew that if he insisted on her killing him, she would have to live with the same regret, shame and grief of killing a loved family member as he himself had had to endure currently. It was a burden he was unwilling to force upon Mitsuko.
"I am aware," he replied when she pointed out that he did not have the only troubled mind within the old Shimada castle as a result of his poor decisionmaking and blindness to the truth. He was about to explain himself, to tell her that this was one of the primary reasons for him to leave; however, he did not get the chance. After packing his bow again and tightening the clips of its container, he noticed that Mitsuko approached him with a knife. For a moment, he was convinced she was going to end his life after all, and his heart jumped in his chest at the realisation. Yet when she walked around him and tied up his hair, Hanzo knew that a greater shame than death was about to fall upon his name.
The archer tensed, uncomfortable with the option he was given, but he did not protest. With clenched teeth and a shaky hand, he took the knife from her and took a moment to contemplate. It was the right thing to do, he knew, no matter how wrong. As a man fond of traditions, he had suspected to find himself in this position at one moment or another anyway. Best leave the dishonour entirely to himself. His fingers closed around the hilt, therewith stopping the shaking almost completely, while taking a hold of his hair on the back of his head with his other hand. The blade was sharpened and well-maintained, as expected in the kitchens of such a wealthy and dominant family. It would not be difficult to cut through. And indeed, it was not. Hanzo lifted the knife to his hair, took a deep yet invisible breath, and cut.
It was not quite like cutting through butter, but his hair gave way fairly easily. With most of the hair that kept it stable being cut off, the hairband dropped to the floor. Hanzo rose, turned and hesitated. There was anger in his eyes, and his eyebrows were furrowed accordingly, yet he did not shout or snarl as he usually would when angry. She did not deserve his anger; he himself was entirely to blame for his. And as he concluded such, he handed her the handful of cut-off hair, and tossed the knife aside in a haze of fury. After a dull thud, it got stuck in one of the kitchen counters attached to the ceiling. It would be his last reminder.
Without uttering as much as a word, Hanzo proceeded to tighten the belts and knots on his bags -- he had not packed much, as it would slow him down on his journey to wherever -- and eventually slung them over his shoulders and on his back. The master of the Shimada clan then threw his cousin one last look that held a mixture of displeasure and sorrow, before turning around and taking his first step in leaving his old life behind.
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