CYOA 2 – To The Victor Go The Spoils – Chapter 35: Change Of Plans (Patreon)

Last time: Hanzo arrived in the gym he grew up in; Cole waits for him as a surprise guest and some electrical malfunction turns out to be much more complicated than originally thought.

Warnings/content: brief discussion about a sex practice; other than that just plot. A lot of it.

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It’s very quiet during the breakfast. Hanzo can feel Lúcio and Cole throwing him glances, both clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation and the energy in the room.

Sojiro is sitting across from the three of them, not sparing them any attention while he eats. He is more or less looking right through Hanzo while he sips from his tea. The only saving grace is that Hanzo is sure he is simply in thoughts and not maliciously ignoring them all.

Finally, toward the end of the experience, he puts down his cutlery and folds his hands on his lap. Hanzo immediately looks up from his own near empty plate, staring at his father.

“I expect you and Cole to fight at precisely ten. The fight will last half an hour and I will decide from there whether we will go through with the gym battle or not.”

“Well that’s not fair,” Lúcio mutters into his own cup of coffee at Hanzo’s left elbow. Of course it is not fair. Hanzo earned his right at a gym fight fair and square – mostly – and pitting him against the reigning Champion is a recipe for disaster… but there is little he can do when his father has devised a plan.

Little. But not nothing. Hanzo has gained new leverage since the last time they spoke.

If Sojiro heard Lúcio’s complaint, he ignores it completely.

Hanzo nods solemnly. “Of course, father.”

Cole shifts a little to his right, mumbling something into his beard that does not sound too thrilled with the whole idea as well.

Hanzo waits a beat or two after Sojiro’s satisfied not before he throws in casually: “I’ve taken care of your electricity problem.”

Sojiro frowns. His gaze sharpens marginally, staring at Hanzo; for the first time really taking notice of him, as far as he can tell.

“...Excuse me?”

“I took care of your electricity problem,” Hanzo reiterates, fighting against a smug little grin that lurks at the corners of his mouth.

Sojiro’s frown deepens with the non-explanation given. He folds his hands in front of him, a sign that his ire is rising.

“I heard you the first time. Did you start an apprenticeship as an electrician to prepare for your inevitable loss?” he asks, his voice calm but his words sharp nonetheless. His hard, dark eyes pierce into Hanzo whose instinct is to duck his head and mutter an apology – but he reminds himself that that won’t get him anywhere. He needs to stand up for himself now.

Just remember that in his spare time he is Rutledge’s plaything.

It feels weird to think of his father that way but it does help in a way.

“I did not but I did not have to. Being a trainer had been completely sufficient to solve the problem, I assure you.” He leans a little over the breakfast table, staring right back at his father. “I would have thought that as a gym leader you would have noticed and done what I have in a single night.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Lúcio and Cole have stiffened and it feels like they don’t dare to even breathe. Hanzo can’t fault them for it; the tightness in his father’s face is something he hasn’t seen in a very long time. It makes him look more like his Corviknight by the second which does not help in the least.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sojiro all but whispers. He puts a fist on the table, clenched so tightly that his hand trembles. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Hanzo swallows thickly. He lowers his chin slightly, staring at a spot on his father’s chest. “No, father. I… am simply saying that the problem has not originated from the electricity at all – and that I am surprised that nobody has noticed as much because the Pokémon was quite eager to show itself to me.”

He pulls Rotom’s Pokéball from his hip while his father’s cheeks start to get splotchy with anger. He hisses: “Pokémon?!”

Then watches as Hanzo presses the release button and the ball pops open, releasing the blinding light of a Pokémon appearing. It quickly settles into the small palm sized shape of Rotom, the electricity about it crackling but contained in a specific pattern.

It bounces on the table, producing odd static sounds as it does so.

Four pairs of eyes mutely follow as it hops along the perimeter, ostensibly looking for a phone that it can mess with.

“...A Rotom?” his father finally says. It sounds more like he is near to choking on the words.

Hanzo could not start to name what emotions might be on this father’s face or what might be going through his head at that moment.

“Yes,” he confirms in a low voice. “As far as I can tell, it had been looking for a trainer. It was quite adamant to join me.”

Sojiro’s black eyes surge back to Hanzo’s face. The anger he can feel is… cold and more worrying than anything else.

“You mean to tell me that this Pokémon chose a novice over a master such as myself or the literal Champion?” He jerks his head toward Cole, though the way he does it looks like he isn’t much a fan of the reigning Champion either – which does not surprise Hanzo. Cole is very much the antithesis of everything Sojiro values.

Hanzo shrugs slowly and says: “Well… it seems that way, does it not?”

It feels exciting to talk to his father that way. When he went on his journey months ago, he would not have dreamed of being this disrespectful but… well, times change. Hanzo has done a lot of growing and he is honestly done being the punching bag for his father.

Sojiro stares at the Rotom with a dark, brooding glare, watching as it bounces around the breakfast table until Hanzo quietly calls it back into the Pokéball.

At that, his father’s gaze snaps back up and he unceremoniously stands from his place at the table.

“Very well. A change of plans, then.” He points at Hanzo. “We will fight. Today. Get ready and meet me in the arena.”

Hanzo looks up at his father, a mix of dismay over how upset he is and elation that his plot worked the way he had hoped it would, warring inside his stomach.

“So you are willing to forgo my fight against Cole?” he asks quietly, proud of how even his voice sounds.

Sojiro’s black eyes are glittering. In Hanzo’s opinion, it looks quite malicious. His face remains unreadable, as does his voice when he replies: “Yes. Go and ready yourself.”

His father turns without another word and leaves the room. For all intents and purposes, he has completely forgotten that Lúcio and Cole are still there as well.

Hanzo exhales, his shoulders sinking down as his muscles unclench and the growing pain behind his forehead recedes significantly.

Lúcio next to him puts his head on the table with a soft groan. “The fuck was that even? Why’s he behaving like you want to do him harm or some shit? Don’t make sense if you ask me.”

Hanzo shrugs again, covertly wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs. “It’s how he always behaved. I do not know his reasonings. Sojiro is an enigma to me. Always has been.”

“I think he’s just worried,” Cole interjects lazily. He has picked up his fork again and is slowly spearing some scrambled egg onto it.

Lúcio lifts his head to throw first him an incredulous look and then Hanzo who feels pretty much as skeptic as he does.

“Why should he be worried?”

“He’s a dad. He just worries. I think he’s not nearly as mean as you might think.” Cole lightly flicks the fork at Hanzo and says with a full mouth: “Gave you that shiny Ponyta after all, didn’t he? Must count for somethin’.”

.oOo.

Hanzo is sitting in front of his team’s Pokéballs, thoughtfully staring at them. King’s is still empty on account of him being in the stables, but that can be changed if Hanzo decides that he needs him.

The rules of his father’s gym have always been straightforward: A 3 on 3 fight. Nothing more, nothing less. In that regard, there can’t be any surprises. Hanzo even has an advantage, being used to his father’s team on a downright intimate level.

Some of them he has known since he was a child.

Which is where the problem arises.

He is a hundred percent sure that his father will use his Corviknight in the fight. A mean old lady that has struck the fear of God into Hanzo on more than one occasion – and he is not sure what to do about her. She might be ancient at this point but she is fierce and has not an ounce of pity for her opponents.

His father might not go easy on him. But that Corviknight of his will be absolutely vicious about it, taking every loss of the gym as a personal affront as far as Hanzo had been able to tell over the years.

His hand moves, lightly touching King’s special Pokéball. He would be the most obvious choice, but therein also lies the fault: the Corviknight has been trained with Ponyta and Rapidash for as long as Hanzo can think. She knows exactly how to handle them and their fire.

He is suitably sure that King has no chance against her. But then who?

His hand moves toward another pair, hovering thoughtfully between them.

Kikuri has fire as well. And with her now being evolved, she has a power boost that Hanzo has yet to even see. There has not been enough time for him to have a good look at her and what she can now do for him which is a definite handicap in the fight that he doesn’t know whether to risk.

Rotom would be the other choice but his advantage would be also a disadvantage what with Corviknights steely wings being able to easily repel the electricity from Rotom’s attacks.

Not to mention the fact that Hanzo has had it for literally half a day and has no idea what it is capable of yet.

Sending it out into a gym fight would most likely spell his doom.

He slowly pulls his hand back, staring at his team, wondering about the merit of taking Maddox over Sliggoo… or whether it would even be a good idea to take Sliggoo in the first place.

Oh, the choices…

.o.

Hanzo is still staring at his three picks when arms suddenly wrap around his middle, pulling him against a big, warm body. His first instinct is to dig his elbow into the side of his assailant but he recognizes Cole before he can act on that.

“Hey… relax. I ain’t doin’ anythin’.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes as he pulls out of Cole’s embrace but only to mask that he feels pretty embarrassed about his reaction to a simple embrace.

“You startled me. Usually I can hear you from across the house, you lumbering fool.”

The insult doesn’t carry any heat with it. Cole is looking like he didn’t even hear it, too; he’s just grinning crookedly, like this is some kind of amusing joke. Like he is in on something that Hanzo isn’t, which… annoys him.

Cole has been behaving differently these past couple of days and he doesn’t know how to breach the subject. Even to his own ears it sounds incredibly insulting to say: Well you’ve behaved like less of an idiot. Are you actually a genius or something?

Cole reaches out and grasps Hanzo’s hands, pulling him a bit closer once more.

“Are you ready for your big fight?” he asks in a low murmur. “Your father won’t go easy on you just because you’re his pretty little boy.”

Hanzo scoffs, half-heartedly trying to pull himself away but ultimately letting Cole have him. “Of course he wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t want him to. But… yes. I think I am ready.”

“Doesn’t sound too sure to me.” Cole brushes a strand of Hanzo’s hair back behind his ear. His eyes look so… intent. Like he can see right into Hanzo’s soul.

It makes him feel weird, so he quickly looks away.

Cole grasps his chin and pulls his head back around, all but forcing Hanzo to look back at him.

There’s a beat or two of silence with Cole having the oddest facial expression before he suddenly grasps Hanzo’s hand again and pulls him to his bed.

“Come. Sit with me.”

Hanzo’s skin prickles with goosebumps. He sits down but he can’t help the question bursting out of him: “What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your behavior is… odd.”

Cole hums, obviously giving Hanzo’s words some careful thought. Eventually his big hand curls around the back of Hanzo’s neck, giving it a warm, comforting squeeze. It stays there, fingers exerting a steady, gentle pressure that makes Hanzo’s body go warm.

“I think the answer is that I am… myself again? Mostly?”

Hanzo peers at him, his confusion probably plain on his face. Cole grins this crooked little grin again.

“When we met I haven’t been in a good headspace. Things had been a bit touch ‘n go for a while, to be quite frank. If I hadn’t met you…” he trails off, his eyes wandering off to the side. His expression is… scary. Completely empty. Devoid of… anything, really. “I dunno what’ve happened to me.”

Cole leans over and lightly bonks their heads together. “Took me a while to get my feet back under myself. Gather up my Pokémon. Stuff like that. But I feel better now – an’ it’s all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Hanzo replies quickly, weirdly uncomfortable with the thanks. Cole laughs softly and lets go of Hanzo’s neck in favor of slowly rubbing circles into his back.

“Honestly? You kind of did. You gave me a routine and rules and a clear outline of what you were expectin’ of me. ‘Twas sexual of course, but… it really did help. You were a mean sonofabitch but you weren’t unfair. And I really needed that. I needed to know that you were steady and you’d keep me steady too. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Hanzo replies immediately, though it really really did make sense.

Cole laughs and it’s so low and soft and beautiful, Hanzo just listens to it for a moment while staring at his hands, then gives in to the urge and turns, curling his arms around Cole and hugging him.

“Oh damn… that’s nice. Don’t get that all day,” Cole murmurs honey sweet as he hugs Hanzo back and presses a tickling kiss against his cheek.

They stay like that for a while. Hanzo couldn’t exactly say how long; but eventually he pulls back quickly, pretending like nothing happened.

Cole is smiling but lets him get away with it.

“Alright. So what I did actually come here for is somethin’ else, though.”

Hanzo exhales, blinking a few times to make sure his eyes aren’t as watery as they feel right now, then throws Cole a distrustful look.

“What do you want?”

Cole laughs nice and low and smooth. Hanzo’s insides do a nice slow flip in response.

He leans in and murmurs right into Hanzo’s ear: “Just thought I’d up the stakes, you know? I’ve been talkin’ to Lúcio fer a bit and what he had to say sounded real nice indeed. An’ I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind tryin’ it out with me.”

Hanzo is breaking out in goosebumps from Cole crooning into his ear like that. He shifts a little on the edge of the bed. He feels like he got whiplash from how fast the topics turned.

“What are you talking about?”

Cole’s hand is back on his neck, his thumb gently digging into some knotted muscles. The sensation flows warm down Hanzo’s back and up into his skull. He listens very intently when Cole continues: “Thought you’d like to try an’ put some rods into my cock.”

Again, Cole’s thumb worries over that knotted muscle. The sensation is even more intense this time while his words sink into Hanzo’s brain.

“Only if ya win, though. Could be a li’l… treat for ya.”

“For me, is it?” Hanzo rasps. It’s the only thing he can say to such a bold proposition, really.

He almost forgot that night in the cave. When he first met Lúcio and let himself get talked into playing with him. (That’s a lie. He’s thought about it. A lot.)

He remembers the panicky feeling of staring at his own dick and the slowly descending metal rod. He remembers the odd burning sensation and the feeling of being full in a way that should not be. He remembers it all very well – and the thought of doing that to Cole’s big dumb ruddy cock is…

Uhm.

“Uhm…”

Cole is laughing again. He is unrepentant about his horniness and depravity. He doesn’t care putting himself at Hanzo’s mercy. He doesn’t care groveling like a dirty little mutt and begging him to be allowed to come.

He doesn’t care and that is so refreshing and shocking that Hanzo can’t help but love it.

Him.

He can’t help but wanting to be like Cole in some way. Just stopping to give any fucks in general.

Cole has his arm curled around Hanzo’s shoulders now, pulling him into his body in a side hug. He is so warm and he… smells. It’s intense but not unwelcome. Hanzo finds himself turning into it, pressing his face against his shoulder because it’s that or stuff his nose into Cole’s armpit and inhale and that’s all kinds of weird in a different way.

“Didn’t know you could be this shy,” Cole murmurs. He starts to play with Hanzo’s hair, rubbing just a strand of it between his calloused fingertips. “Kind of cute… though I like it even more when you tell me what to do.”

Hanzo swallows thickly and pulls back. He grabs Cole’s thick wrist and pulls his hand away. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch me, you pervert,” he tells him, his voice a bit unsteady at first but firming up as he feels himself settling down. “And I take your offer. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself in to.”

The bastard stares at him, his pupils blowing wide. Slowly, he nods. “I don’t. But I wanna find out anyway.”

Hanzo scoffs. He stands up, brushing down over the front of his shirt to smooth it down while he gets a grip on himself. “I suppose it’s no loss anyway. Just one big dumb dick.”

He glances backwards, seeing how excited Cole gets from the treatment, and shakes his head with a small roll of his eyes. “Good talk,” Hanzo mutters. He grabs the Pokéballs he had put on his bedside table but is stopped from going to the fight by Cole grasping his elbow gently.

“Can I give you some advice?”

Hanzo’s eyes narrow. He looks Cole up and down. After a second of deliberation he replies slowly: “You can try.”

Cole lets go of him, hands lifted in capitulation. “Nothin’ big. I just… Mh.” He looks away, his expression tense as he thinks about how to put what he’s going to say. Just about when Hanzo loses patience, Cole continues: “Don’t be so hard on your dad.”

Hanzo’s mouth opens, eyes bugging out of his skull. “...Me? I am hard on him?!” he asks incredulously.

Cole shrugs one shoulder, getting up and grasping Hanzo’s biceps to keep him from storming out of the room (which he had been about to do, in all honesty).

“I dunno what you an’ Genji see in him but you know what I see? A single father bein’ very worried about his sons. An’ wantin’ ‘em to succeed.”

Hanzo glares up at him and hisses: “I think this conversation has been insane enough. Why don’t you keep your advice to yourself and safe your face while you can?”

The bastard has the audacity to grin, slowly letting Hanzo go, though not before gently rubbing his arms up and down. “It has been a crazy conversation. I think I’ll just shut up now, huh?”

Hanzo scoffs and puts his Pokéballs on his belt.

“You’re an idiot,” he tells him succinctly. “But you mean well. I will… consider what you said.”

Cole smiles crookedly. He slowly sits back down on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands together between his knees. “I will come and cheer you on.”

Hanzo nods. “You better.”

.o.

The arena has not changed during Hanzo’s time away. In fact, he does not think it has ever changed in all the time he’s lived in the gym. It is a simple arena without any gimmicks other than the allowance for the roof to open and the floor to slip away for some pools of water.

The usual necessities so trainers are able to fight with any Pokémon they choose. Hanzo is there before his father – but he is not alone.

He notices the other presence only after he’s already walked to the challenger spot – and only because there is a soft rustling and metallic clinking to be heard from one shadowed corner.

He turns his head, the blood freezing in his veins when he sees one large red eye staring at him; unblinking.

A moment later, the Pokémon moves and the light catches on its steely beak and the shine of its metallic, black feathers.

Hanzo would recognize his father’s Corviknight everywhere. Out of a hundred identical Pokémon, he would be able to point her out with pinpoint accuracy. Her unnerving presence is too memorable to ever forget.

Looming over him his whole life. Huge beak pecking at him to turn him back to the estate if he were to try and stray too far.

A mean and absolutely ancient bird that fits his father to a T. A perfect and devastating couple.

Hanzo swallows with a click in his throat, watching the Corviknight eying him, then shifting more out of the shadows. She lightly flaps her wings, the sound of the metallic feathers clicking against each other sending Hanzo into a cold sweat.

He would have thought that his journey, meeting all kinds of new people and new Pokémon would have him a little prepared to face her once more; but some things go deeper than mere logic.

She walks toward him in that awkward stalking gait that birds have, her head cocking from one side to the other so she can look at him with each eye separately.

Hanzo feels like he has to stand up straighter for the appraisal, a drop of sweat running down the side of his face when she is in front of him, her insanely sharp beak nearly touching his forehead.

The door on the other side of the arena opens. The creaking sound nearly has him jump.

“Sakura. Come here.” Sojiro’s voice is grave.

Hanzo feels a light tap on top of his head before the Corviknight stretches out her wings and turns with a mighty flutter around. He just knows that she did it on purpose; just shy of hurting him.

He lifts his hand, touching the spot that her steely beak touched, but takes his hand away the moment he sees his father on the other side of the arena. He looks… small, somehow. He does not have the quirkiness that has made the other gym leaders feel larger than life.

He is simply a man in his house robe, standing far on the other side of the room; almost painfully thin and getting on in years.

Hanzo finds himself staring mutely and thinking of Cole’s words, though he does not know what to make of it all.

“As you know, I do not believe in big shows,” Sojiro says gravely. He moves his hands and shakes the large sleeves of his robe down his arms. In his right hand is a Pokéball. “You also know the rules. Are you ready to fight?”

Hanzo inhales deeply and rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen muscles that have grown very tight indeed.

“I am ready!”

“Then let us begin.”

.oOo.

The heat inside the arena is insane. Hanzo has been forced to take a step back; as has his father’s Corviknight who fled back into the corner and stuck her head beneath her wing to somewhat flee from the heat produced by the battling Pokémon.

Kikuri is fast – but his father’s Alolan Marowak is strong. It stands like a boulder, unshakeable in the onslaught of fire balls Kikuri hurls at it while she races circles around her foe.

She’s faster now than she had been as a Salandit. Her sleek form is moving like water as she uses her long tail to keep herself excellently balanced. But whatever they try, the Marowak does not seem impressed by it. Either her fireballs are neutralized with a flick of its bone or they just seem to puff into nothing once they connect with its body.

Sojiro is standing similarly firm, his arms crossed in front of his chest and a deep frown on his austere features while he watches the Pokémon battle. He does not look impressed.

“Is that what you have learned on your journey? Throw your head against the wall until it finally crumbles?”

He sounds so disappointed; like he is seriously questioning how Hanzo had been able to best six gym leaders so far.

Hanzo tries not to let him get a rise out of him. His eyes are on Kikuri who keeps valiantly running circles around the Marowak. Hanzo can see its posture starting to get stiffer with each attack, its patience starting to run thin fast.

“Hanzo! I am talking-”

Kikuri’s head turns minimally, her eyes falling onto Hanzo. He throws out his arm and shouts: “Toxic!”

She doesn’t miss a step. He can see a movement starting from her stomach and crawling up her throat. His father is a lot faster to compute what is happening than Hanzo would have thought but his barked order at Marowak to step out of the way comes too late anyway.

Kikuri is already regurgitating a thick mess of sludge that squarely hits Marowak in the back, gluing it to the floor.

Hanzo can hear the sizzle of the toxic waste as it hits the other Pokémon’s skin.

Sojiro’s face becomes even tighter, if possible. He knows that this war of attrition – which he would absolutely have won – has suddenly become a race against the clock.

Hanzo calls Kikuri back. She is in front of him in seconds, her chest heaving from all the running she’s been doing.

If Hanzo has inherited anything from his father it is his stubbornness… which is why it takes him so by surprise when Sojiro suddenly relaxes his posture – minimally – and curls his fingers in a beckoning gesture toward his Marowak.

“Come. You did well. We need to get you cleaned up now.”

Hanzo stands up straighter, his heart thumping fast in his chest. Did he… already win the first round?

It is hard to believe, but Sojiro is leaving the arena temporarily with his poisoned Pokémon to take care of it.

He turns to look at his friends standing behind him at the far wall to watch the match. They look equally stunned but eventually Lúcio gives him a huge thumbs up and Cole tips a hat that he’s not wearing.

Hanzo can’t help the feeling of impending doom, though.

His father wouldn’t just give up like that. What exactly did he have planned for the next round?