@strike-at-the-heart ( x )
It was a moment of weakness, on his own part--but it was already apparent the elder Shimada had a knack for exhausting his deep well of patience. Only a few minutes into a conversation and he was scraping the bottom of it. Still--for all of Hanzo’s selfish, cruel dismissal of the matter at hand, so dear to Zenyatta’s being, he received what amounted to a warning shot, meant to chastise rather than injure.
Though perhaps he chastised a little harsher than usual. One had to compensate when their target was so much harder than average.
He had no expectation, however, that his attack would go without retaliation. He remained alert when Hanzo disappeared. He did not know much about the Shimada way of combat--he had taken on Genji after his serving in Blackwatch, and had sense changed his style of fighting even more drastically--but the one thing he did know is that their attacks tended to come from surprising angles.
And so it did. There was movement upwards, in the corner of his vision, and he turned towards it just in time to see the arrow rushing towards him.
Was your spurt of anger worth it, Zenyatta? a voice in his head chastised. A voice that was, he thought, not entirely his.
He side-stepped at the last split second, and the arrow threaded the pistons at his shoulder, wedging itself between them.
The temporary loss of mobility was considerably discomforting, but he was, thankfully, not permanently hurt. He reached over with his opposite arm to dislodge the projectile, tugging it just-so to loosen it before pushing it through, the fletching bending to accommodate the space.
It clattered to the ground.
“Our emotions are made known,” he said, raising his voice to the apparently empty rooftop. “I am satisfied. Go in peace, Hanzo.”
But he would most certainly not turn his back just yet.
