A smirk formed on his pale lips as he stared at the man that dared call himself 'the shadow'. Ieyasu's hell hound, taking any job, obeying any orders. Kotaro Fuma trained wolves himself, so this dog was no different than the beasts he associated himself with. "Hanzo, get on your hands and knee's." Fuma commanded, letting himself roar with laughter. He knew the request would infuriate the Iga ninja.

He couldn't see Hanzo's cloaked face, but he knew by the man's eyes that he had no intentions of doing that. "You aren't going to be a good dog?" Kotaro asked in a warning voice. Kotaro had a deep and intimidating voice, but it melodically spoke vicious words to the other ninja. Kotaro circled around him, Hanzo's precious little master had left him under his control. Hanzo must feel forsaken. How he would treasure this day when it was gone. Nothing would stop him from making the most of it. Of this situation.

Kotaro would enjoy making Hanzo his. His good dog. His fascination started when he noticed Hanzo's obedience to Ieyasu, and ever since he was determined to force his way into seeing Hanzo serve another, more specifically himself.

"Now, Now. I've had plenty of experience with the likes of you, and though some may disagree, all you have to do to tame a dog is... Establish dominance." He spoke the words softly and cruelly.

Kotaro waited until he was directly behind Hanzo and grabbed him by the back of the neck. He threw him viciously to the ground. With an approving noise, Kotaro turned away from him. "Good. Dogs should grovel at their masters feet. You belong down there Hanzo." Kotaro felt the edges of his lips tug into another smile. Hanzo was silent, as usual.

Full of surprises, and yet just so predictable.

Fuma had learnt how to predict how the man would feel, thus not needing any sort of visual confirmation.

Kotaro knew it would send Hanzo into a rage, so when he came at him he was ready for the much smaller, lighter ninja. Though Hanzo was fast, and skilled, Kotaro nearly doubled him in terms of physical strength and endurance. Fuma grabbed him in one fluid motion after knocking his fist away, and slammed him into a wall across the room.

Of course he'd won, Hanzo never had the strength to match his. How could a dog stand up to the master?

He walked over to Hanzo slowly, smugly. Hanzo was picking himself up off the ground. "You... You are not my master..." Hanzo finally gave him a taste of just how defiant he was going to be with him tonight. "Oh?" Fuma smiled and gave a cruel chuckle. "We'll see about that." He crossed his arms.

Before Hanzo's eyes, as he charged forward again to lash out at Kotaro, he disappeared slowly. His image seemed to turn into a clear fog and fade into the air. Hanzo turned all around himself quickly, backing away from the open center of the room.

He could hear Fuma's laughter echoing all around him in the room, and it was absolutely maddening. "Show yourself..." Hanzo murmured, trying desperately to find a clue as to Kotaro's whereabouts. "Yes, pet?" The voice came from right behind him, whispering into his ear. Hanzo felt his mask being lifted off and his long dark hair falling to cascade around him. A shiver ran down his spine, as well as a sharp nailed finger. Tracing down each ridge as hot breath tickled against his neck.

"No!" Hanzo whirled around, Fuma was there on the balcony, staring him down with those inhuman, demonic eyes. Slit up and accented by the icy makeup he wore. Fuma looked him up and down and wore a wide smirk on his pale-white face.

"You look good like that. Good dog." He laughed again. "What do you want from me?" Hanzo hissed, keeping his eyes locked onto Kotaro's hypnotic iced over ones. Hanzo felt like he was being lost in those eyes, despite their icy depth, like they were dragging him down to hell.

"Come here, good dog." Fuma grinned when Hanzo finally started to do as he was told. Fuma placed a hand on the top of Hanzo's head, and urged him down until he was on his hands and knee's. Keeping his hand there for a moment to play with the long dark strands of hair hanging around Hanzo's face. He gripped the strands harshly and jerked Hanzo's head up to look him in the eyes.

Fuma had amazing eyes, often times victims would stare into them completely ensnared as he finished them off. Unable to move, unable to resist. Hanzo had fallen pray to one of the many wonders of his mystic prowess. He let go of Hanzo's hair and let the smirk stay plastered on his face. He had won.

Hanzo himself snapped out of it, and scowled noticing he was on all fours on the ground. He looked up at Fuma with a begrudging stare.

"Good boy."