Canon: Remove if not applicable.He had always regretted the way that things had ended. To the world, it was surely a victory, but to him, it had been a tragedy. What point was there to becoming king of the whole world if the person that he cared for wasn’t king with him?
It had only been brief, the time from Hansel’s death to Peter Pan’s demise. Betraying Arthur and tricking Orihara Maya had come back at him, and had gotten him killed in the end. They had been betrayed in turn, he was sure.
Arthur had never been important, even though the man had raised him as if he were his father, but Hansel-
Their relationship had been different from the start, and even though Hansel had been recruited by Arthur himself, it was Peter Pan that he proved loyal to, and not as a subject to a king.
It was reflex that he searched every foreign accent, every head of blond waves of hair, even though he knew that their past life meant nothing to their current. If there was a their at all. He didn’t know if Hansel had been reborn as he had, with memories slipping into his mind as a light trickle, then a steady stream, until he knew everything.
About what they had been, about what they had done, about the ambiguous number that had died.
He had believed it was all dreams or his mind running away with him to unknown places, but after some google searches he found out that the incidents depicted in those dreams were real enough, and the details far too vivid for them to be simply made up. Only the culprit would know, was a common thing in crime stories, and surely that was the case with these dreams, these memories.
But his like was certainly much different from the so-called Peter Pan’s life. It was probably entirely different for Hansel, as well.
So how he was supposed to find him he didn’t know. He could be anywhere in the world, he could be nowhere, as well, and even if he knew about them, would he want to get involved again? It had led to their end, the last time.
But he still had to look, had to try, because his heart, his mind, his soul, his very being, was too filled with what they had once been, with their intertwined purposes and wishes and existences, for him to simply ignore it.
Even if Hansel didn’t know him any more, for his own sake, and for Peter Pan’s sake, he had to find him and at least, if it was the only thing he could do, lay eyes on him.
Because bizarrely enough a terrorist, a person with such terrible crimes on his resumé, seemingly wanted, most of all, happiness for the person that he loved the most.