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Published:
2019-09-12
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2023-09-19
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30/?
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Joining the Team

Summary:

That one series where Hanzo slowly shows his true colors to the people around him...

Edit: Cole Cassidy's name changes part way through the fic to reflect the 2021 Blizzard fallout.

Notes:

A creep brings Hanzo and d.va closer??

 

Quick warning: Hanzo dislocates somebody's wrist in this. It isn't graphic but it's there. :)

Chapter 1: Dragon and Bunny

Chapter Text

"If you will excuse me."

Jesse quirked an eyebrow at the archer before following his sight line over one shoulder.

Jesse went cold.

Hanzo was already there.

The archer stood far taller with confidence and menace than his 5'not much" frame actually possessed.

A hand made coarse and strong from bow work clamped down on the arm of some soon-to-be-poor bastard who stood leering at Hana.

Well, more south of the border on Hana.

Jesse could almost hear the pop of the man's wrist dislocating as Hanzo coolly informed him what would happen if he continued to make himself a nuisance anywhere near Miss Song and any other women.

Especially underage ones.

He held the man's arm so solidly in one fist that he couldn't have gotten away even if he tried. There was no way, the grip was steel and the angle just this side of immovable.

Hana continued to giggle to her friends, having noticed the skeevy older man but written him off. She got looks like that all the time and there was little she could do unless he came much closer. Creeps like that rarely tried anything.

She kept an eye out all the same. How could she not?

Thus when the silver streak of Hanzo slipped beside the man and caused him to wince, she noticed immediately.

Despite not knowing their new team member that well, the relief that flooded her system was real.

As the creep turned tail and bolted, she made a mental note to learn more about the reclusive archer who just broke the wrist of a total stranger who had only looked at her funny.

Chapter 2: Low-Key Coming Out

Summary:

Hanzo wins over Jack Morrison when the old soldier is grumpy.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Nobody went near ex-Strike Commander Jack Morrison when he was in a mood.

Nobody but the newest ‘recruit’.

Everyone from Hana on up to Jesse tried to dissuade Hanzo from entering the break room where Jack sat glowering at a cup of coffee. Even Ana seemed concerned for Hanzo’s continued non-disembowlment.

He wouldn’t hear of it and marched into the break room.

“Shimada.” Jack growled. Hanzo merely poured himself some water from the steaming carafe and dropped a tea bag into the mug.

Nonchalantly the archer settled himself in the chair opposite his commanding officer and took a sip.

“So is there anyone worth my time in this city or should I stop taking PrEP now?” He stated cooly and watched Morrison over the lip of his mug.

Jack blinked nearly-unseeing eyes.

He began to cough.

Then to wheeze.

Hanzo smirked into his tea.

Ana looked wide-eyed at Genji and Jesse. What on earth had the newbie said to Jack to make him laugh?

Soldier rested his face in his hand and kept laughing through a throat made of shattered glass.

“Nah, it isn’t worth it. Take it from a veteran.”

Hanzo huffed a surprised laugh and his smirk blossomed into a full smile.

Genji had to sit down.

“I thought as much. Perhaps in days past there were men aplenty?”

Jack blushed and finally took a sip of his soon-to-be-room-temperature coffee.

Oh yeah.” The two men shared a laugh over his eagerness. “This Overwatch is too damn small for it though.”

“That is not the only thing that is too small in this town.” Hanzo muttered into his mug, turning slightly pink at the innuendo. He played it cool. Jack did not.

After a beat the old soldier tilted his head back and cackled.

Ana whispered that no one had made him laugh that hard since Gabe. Her cowboy looked shell-shocked.

“You didn’t strike me as someone who’s interested in that end, Shimada.” Jack raised his mug a little in a toast to homosexuality. Hanzo almost inhaled his scalding tea.

“Well no.” The archer coughed, raising his own mug to clink weakly against the other man’s. “But have you seen my options?”

Jack wheezed. It was no secret that he was probably the only man on base who had an ass to speak of. At least he liked to think so.

“Though you strike me as a man who would take note of such things.”

Jack blushed. Hard. Ana took that as a cue to herd the younguns away from their eavesdropping.

“Damn your eyes, Archer.”

Hanzo breathed a laugh into his tea.

“You are not the first man to say so, Morrison.”

The elder gay man coughed again, thumped his chest, and drank to that.

Notes:

Hanzo: I see you are A Gay.
Jack: I see you are a top.
Hanzo: Silence, bottom.

I'm sure they have more advanced ways to keep HIV/AIDS from spreading if they haven't eradicated it entirely. I hc that there was probably an aids scare in the immediate wake of the Crisis since technology regressed. It wasn't a full aids epidemic, but it was enough to make the LGBT community sit up and pay attention.

Chapter 3: Stubborn

Summary:

Overwatch successfully extracted Gabriel ‘Reaper’ Reyes from his undercover work with Talon. Hanzo helps him settle back into life on base.

...if you want to call it that.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Reyes was an ex-commander.

Hanzo was ex-yakuza.

They were not about to admit that they needed someone else to open a fucking jar.

Morrison wandered into the kitchen, face brightening when he saw his friend only to fall when he saw the stalemate in their bodies.

“Uh.” He supplied helpfully. Neither headstrong fool broke their prideful glower to look at the Caucasian.

Hanzo held out his hand, palm up. Reyes rapped the top of the mason jar with the back of an armored finger. Hanzo pushed his hand further into Gabriel’s personal space.

The Latino’s lips parted in a sneer that could have caused the sun to sink back into the east and apologize for being presumptuous.

Hanzo’s near-black eyes didn’t even blink. Five inches of height difference was nothing.

Jack felt endangered and he had only made the mistake of getting a glass of water.

The ex-double agent’s fingers tightened over the vacuum sealed lid.

Angela’s head snapped up when glass shattered in the kitchen and she bolted in to perform damage control.

She blinked. Jack became one with the wallpaper. Reyes’ special edition anti-nanite gloves dripped with glass and cherry preserves.

Hanzo smirked.

Gabriel roared at him and they took off, glass forgotten like a pair of boys with something else to play with.

“Shimada I swear to-“

“You must catch me first, if you are strong enough.”

"I am going to tear your scales off like a fucking fish."

Hanzo just laughed, the sound pouring salt in the wound.

“All they had to do was tap the metal against the counter.” Angela sighed, kneeling to pick up the largest pieces of glass between her acrylics. Jack just shook his head and sighed through his filter.

“You know Gabe, he’d rather di-“

She looked up with a wry grin and soft eyes.

“He would rather perish than ask for help, yes.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“And he got stuck with Hanzo as a chore buddy.”

Angela snorted delicately.

“Prideful bastards.”

“Would someone enlighten me as to why I had to tranquilize our resident archer and Gabriel?”

Jack and Angela looked up as Ana peaceably clicked into the kitchen. They looked at each other before tattling.

The sniper rolled her eye and settled her handheld dart gun back into its thigh holster.

“Children. I will awaken them and send them to clean up this mess.”

Morrison sniggered like a middle schooler watching someone else get in trouble. Better them than him.

Notes:

Happy Halloween!!

Chapter 4: *Hacker voice* I'm in

Summary:

Perhaps there is a future for anachronisms.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“There is nothing I cannot hack, no information that is safe from the eyes of Sombra.” She chuckled, splaying her fingers in an artistic wave. “If it has touched a computer, I can touch it.”

Hanzo smirked.

Within the next two days Olivia proved herself on everything technical. Laptops weren’t safe. Mainframes were a joke. Cellphones made her laugh.

The rest of the team was running out of things to play technical hide-and-seek with her with.

“Well shit if she can get into this thing she can get in anywhere.” McCree waggled his arm, the lights around the skull flickering in neon purple.

“Aw, have you given up, Overwatch?” She smirked.

“You have yet to find my message, Sombra.”

All eyes flicked immediately to the traditionalist archer. Every inch of him screamed anachronism and antiquity. His legs were the highest tech carbon money could buy, but even they were equipped with the same ninja climbing attachments they’d been built with when he was nineteen.

She narrowed her eyes and cracked her knuckles.

“I love a challenge.”

For the next week she scoured everything she could think of that he had ever touched: laptops, holopads, mechanical wiring on the planes, handprint scanners in the doors, everything.

He merely smirked, the edges of his cocky grin teasing at his meticulously trimmed goatee.

“Give her a hint, Ani.” Hanzo crossed his arms as if he would consider such a suggestion. D.Va giggled into her gameboy and popped a pink bubble.

Sombra’s eyebrow twitched and she shot out a purple disk of light that stuck a candy skull on Hana’s vintage handheld.

“Hey!” Hana squeaked.

“Very well, I will tell you this.” His heavy accent carried over their petty squabbles. “It is in a laptop on base.”

Sombra’s eyebrows rose higher into her enhanced hairline.

“How do I know you are not lying?”

Genji straightened and Hanzo sighed at the affront to his honor.

“Because it would not be my sense of humor to have you running after nothing.”

Genji made an affronted squeak and raised a finger to call Hanzo out on his bullshit, but his brother silenced him with an upheld hand.

“Not when defeating you would bring me so much more satisfaction.”

“There it is.” Genji acknowledged, wilting.

Hanzo had been groomed to be a conniving, scheming, strategic bastard and the base had yet to see him play.

Three days later Sombra was close to pulling out her hair and placing a bug straight onto his dermis to see if she couldn’t take over his nervous system instead of this supposed laptop.

“You are lying.” She accused over breakfast, a glowing purple nail pointing straight at the archer.

He raised his miso and sipped at it.

“Do you admit defeat?” He wiped his chopsticks and settled them on their little base. The archer cooly avoided her gaze, meticulously sorting his dishes and picking up his rice.

She sighed frustratedly and clenched her fists.

“Fine!” The hacker grit out.

He smiled.

She hated him.

She sat with him while he ate, unhurried and purposefully archaic. Her glares slid off of him in his linen kimono and freshly dry-cleaned obi. The rat bastard had even unclipped his stupid ninja nails from his prosthetic and was wearing house slippers woven from straw.

“Follow me.” He finally decreed, settling his bowls into the strainer after washing them. Her heels clipped angrily behind his silent footfalls. Everyone except Gabriel (who was sulking) and Winston (who was already in the lab) made their way after the dichotomous duo, Genji, Jesse, and Fareeha in the lead with matching shit-eating grins.

“Excuse me, Winston. Might I borrow your system?”

The gorilla pushed his glasses up with a knuckle before nervously looking at the crowd that had shown up on his doorstep.

“Oh! Well- Of course Hanzo I don’t see why- That is... Here.”

Shimada the older accepted the laptop graciously before setting it into sleep mode and setting it down on a nearby desk. Sombra was twitching, taking in every step of what he was doing. There was no way this archaeological joke knew something she didn’t.

With an unholy shriek the plastic gave way beneath his deceptively graceful fingers. A tiny screwdriver appeared in his left hand and he swiftly disassembled the machine. Winston looked on in horror as McCree and Genji began to cackle.

“Here we are. My message to you.” The ex-scion couldn’t keep his smug grin hidden anymore. Between the first two fingers of his left hand he held out a small scrap of paper.

“Brother you didn’t!” Genji howled, holding his stomach.

The hacker blinked at the paper.
へへ
のの


He did say it was in a laptop.

Swearing in Spanish the hacker stomped away. Hanzo returned the reassembled computer to Winston’s nervous hands and pressed the button to awaken it. No harm done. He quietly reassured the ape that the paper he used would have never harmed the machine.

Being unrecognized by every computer and interface on base for the next week was a small price to pay for outwitting the entirety of the Sombra Collective.

He was finally a hero on base for something he could be proud of.

And he had done it all in zori sandals.

Maybe there is a future for anachronisms.

Notes:

he he no no mo he
へへ
のの


is a face doodled by Japanese schoolchildren. Hanzo basically left a kid's smiley face for the greatest hacker known to man. I lov.

Chapter 5: Hypocrisy

Summary:

Hanzo faces down his brother’s savior.

Notes:

Warning for blood and broken noses, low key violence.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The archer sighed and placed his gear on a nearby examination table.

Angela watched as the warrior removed his gloves and arm guards and pulled his sleeve up.

The man turned to her and spread his arms wide.

“Do it. Whatever you deem appropriate I will accept.”

The doctor blinked owlishly before gripping her pen. Her eyes bounced along his unguarded arms, his exhausted eyes, his open posture.

Her hands began to shake.

“I- I took-“

“You know as well as I that the oath doesn’t explicitly say ‘do no harm’. Doctor, you put-“ His voice broke and he continued in a whisper. “You put my brother back together. He robbed me of my legs and I robbed him of significantly more. Please, if anyone is entitled to vengeance it is you.”

Angela felt all the rage and impotent despair of the last ten years come stampeding back and she’d flown across the floor to shove his nasal bones back into their sockets with the heel of one palm before she had time to think.

The archer didn’t flinch, or change his posture. It was a fatal blow if she’d meant it to be, and he knew it. She panted and pushed her headband up with her free hand. Hanzo’s nose bled furiously but he didn’t move a hair.

She could kick him in the joint between his prosthesis and his thighs, now that he’d armed her with the knowledge. Her acrylics could rake his admittedly handsome facade into a fraction of what his brother’s scarred face bore.

She wanted to hurt him as much as she had ever wanted to harm anyone.

Instead she reached over and set his nose in a brutal one-handed movement.

He hissed a breath in pain but stayed still.

“Lower your arms, Shimada. We can begin your intake examination at your leisure.” She clicked her pen and perched upon the wheeled stool in the corner. He blinked before releasing a long breath through his mouth.

“Is that all?” The nasally quality of his voice threatened to make her giggle.

She tapped the pen against her clipboard and raised her chin.

“I could kill you, Shimada, but I think the best revenge is making you live with what you have done.” His proud shoulders slumped and exhaustion oozed from every pore. She clicked her pen again.

“And you’re doing a better job of that than I ever could. Family history of illness?”

Hanzo blinked, lost in the quick switch in conversation.

“Aside from mental?”

She smirked, but it didn’t fill her eyes with warmth.

...Her eyes didn’t hold as much hatred as they did before though, and if she didn’t write down the cause of his broken nose, he didn’t draw attention to the oversight.

Chapter 6: Sharp Edges

Summary:

Hanzo is on kitchen duty and Satya finds something in her dinner.

Food tw/

Notes:

Man these sandwiches look mad good

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Being from a pseudo-terrorist agency Satya Vaswani was understandably hesitant when her grilled sandwiches were specially labeled. It had been a long day however and her body and soul just needed some dinner.

Unwrapping the meal from its aluminum foil caused her to freeze completely.

She stared at her food dumbfounded before scurrying to calculate how something so perfect could have come into existence.

Flicking thick, long hair away from her face the scientist scooped up her portion and ran to the kitchens.

Hanzo looked up from where he was flicking suds at Soldier and went pale.

“Ms. Vaswani, is something-“

She shoved the sandwiches towards him.

“Did you do this?”

He just nodded, wordlessly.

What had he done wrong? He had painstakingly memorized every operatives’ allergies and preferences, but perhaps his choice of bread had been a few milligrams too light? He should have been more careful.

Symmetra melted into a seat by the island and rested her forehead on her wrist. She looked down at the sandwiches that had been cut in the most precise and mathematically-accurate triangles she had ever seen.

“Usually I am the only person able to achieve such trigonometry.” She blinked down at the brown bread and spiced vegetables and a felt a small smile ease the tension from her face.

Hanzo let out a silent sigh of relief and batted Jack’s hand with the dish towel. The soldier shook out his stinging hand and continued washing dishes. His friend had eyes in the back of his ninja-ass head.

He would sulk at his leisure while Satya began to delicately bite off the tips of her dinner.

Food in triangles tasted better, it was just a fact.

A simple, geometrical fact.

Notes:

Hanzo can sight angles so he was very careful to get perfect isosceles-obtuse cuts for their resident math prodigy lmao

Chapter 7: Dinner and a Show

Summary:

Hanzo goes 'undercover' to a gala where he runs into a fellow elite.
An elite he doesn't like very much.

Notes:

So apparently this didn't post -eyeroll-
Have my spite-chapter before I disappear back into the world of college -A-9 Love you all~

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Oh hell no.” Genji muttered, hand immediately grasping his katana over one shoulder. Jesse looked over at the telltale clank and raised an eyebrow. Genji motioned to the man who had struck up a conversation with his brother.

“You know how everyone has that ex where it ended badly and they still won’t let go?”

Jesse looked at the giant mass of a man tucked into a spotless white suit. His eyes flicked to his friend in his own flawlessly cut black suit and pinstriped blue vest.

Well that didn’t make sense.

He looked back at Genji. Genji was focused on the man chatting Hanzo up. The ninja’s eyes were narrowed and his every fibre was ready to act.

“Well Anija never let them get that far.”

Jesse blinked.

“So he’s just bein a pain?” Genji nodded sharply and flexed his fingers in a wave over his sword.

“A persistent one who will not take no for an answer. Ergo.”

It was a subtle reaction. Hanzo angled his back away from Akande and his smile turned absolutely superficial. Talon be damned, Hanzo was about to put the beatdown on a man twice his size right in the middle of a gala. Jesse and Genji began placing whispered bets.

The ninja bet he’d take Akande down barehanded. Jesse had seen him slip a knife into a napkin.

Neither bet against their boy.

Notes:

can we tell i don’t like akande/hanzo lmao

Chapter 8: What The Hell Is Semechki

Summary:

Hanzo is roped into A Sacred Slav Rite by the base’s resident weightlifter.

Notes:


Kvass.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Air wheezed from Hanzo’s lungs as the foreign drink caught him off-guard. A massive fist came down on his back as the Russian woman cackled.

“We have made Kvass!”

The archer coughed and took another swig.

Kvass wasn’t bad when he didn’t mistake it for vodka, and when he didn’t accidentally swallow it with his windpipe instead of his esophagus. He found it quite agreeable, in fact.

Zarya chuckled and helped herself to another cupful. “Ah...” She sighed contentedly. “Now we need the semechki!”

Hanzo blinked.

He barely survived Kvass, what the hell was semechki!?

-

Hanzo’s ability to slink around sight unseen had many uses, though he tried not to use it on base as much. He wanted Genji’s people to accept him, after all, and he wasn’t certain a bunch of trained agents would take kindly to an ex-mercenary assassin getting the drop on them just because he wanted to get out of movie night.

He tried, he really tried, but being in a dark room with twenty other people wasn’t his idea of relaxing.

Besides, movies weren’t as enjoyable when he couldn’t talk shit about them with Genji. But no, movie night was a sacred, no talking ordeal.

Supposedly.

So perhaps he used his abilities to slip out of movie night once or twice.

A month.

On one such occasion the assassin had caught a flash of pink out the corner of his eye and decided to give chase. Not that the Russian weightlifter ran too quickly. Not when she was carrying a giant stockpot. One dark eyebrow rose.

He allowed one of his heels to make noise as he stepped forward and the large woman pivoted on her heel and dropped into a crouch. When she saw him her eyes lit up.

“Little dragon man! You drink, yes? Come, we drink!”

And so he was roped into making black bread and raisins into a fermented beverage under the cajoling gaze of Aleksandra Zaryanova.

It helped that he cleaned the table with her at cards while they waited for the brew to set. He showed her sake, and she nodded appreciatively at the lighter taste.

Then she made him drink vodka so strong it could peel paint. He didn’t even wince as they knocked back the shots and slammed the little glasses back onto the tabletop between their cards. The tank had merely laughed with a twinkle in her eye. They’d make a Slav of him yet!

-

And now they drank Kvass. He nodded appreciatively at the brew before they began to take shots of that as well.

He knew that in Slavic countries drinking together was a social activity, a cultural meeting of the minds and hearts, but he was somehow not prepared for the hope on Zarya’s face when he took his first real drink of their creation. She valued his opinion on this kvass drink.

When they clinked their shot glasses together he felt a swell of kinship with the weightlifter. A bond forged over three days of bread, cards, and shots.

 

And thankfully, semechki were just sunflower seeds. He could handle those.

Notes:

They made clear Kvass, so it's strong haha. I would never make Hanzo a lightweight.

Chapter 9: Tune Up

Summary:

There is someone in Torbjörn’s workshop.

Notes:

Hallå - Hey
Unge - Young

Feel free to correct my Swedish if it's wrong, I'm just out here casting nets into translator software for each new hero lmao

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Torbjörn Lindholm likes his coffee like he liked his insults: strong enough to bury a body. The engineer slurped happily at his molten beverage and unlocked his workshop.

Only to be met by the whirring of a small tool.

Somebody was in his workshop.

“Hallå, whos there? I warn ye, m’ armed!” And not just his hydraulic claw either.

Hanzo Shimada’s head whipped up before he cursed and dropped the automatic screwdriver. He shook out his hand where it had slipped against the sharp edge of his prosthetic.

Torbjörn raised a thick eyebrow.

This was easily the last person he expected to see.

“Ah. My apologies, I was told this was a public workbench. I will vacate it for you.”

They both looked down at the sparking piece of metal that lay crossed over one of Hanzo’s thighs.

“...As soon as I am in working order.”

Torbjörn sighed and set his roiling ichor onto the table at his elbow. “Let me give her a look, unge man.”

The archer’s eyes widened but he shut off his delicate screwdriver and set it on the open roll up kit by his other thigh. The kid could fix his own gear then. Interesting.

And a most welcome change, if the engineer was being honest. There was far too much mechanical augmentations and far too few operatives who could fix em when they went screwy.

Not that his work ever malfunctioned on its own, but no amount of precautions would keep Jesse McCree’s arm running at 100% when the man walked out of a battle. The thought made Torb’s ire raise. Some things didn’t change with age, he thought with an inner harumph.

Hanzo Shimada’s prosthetic legs, well now they were a work of art. A mixture of clockwork and fuel injectors, the legs ran on a blend of ancient and cutting edge technology to compensate for each other’s shortcomings.

Unfortunately that meant tiny screws were the only thing that kept it all attached. And Neocarbon was notorious for detaching from regular metal when given enough pressure.
Like, say, landing after a three story jump.

The shorter man sighed and examined the suspensions located in the calf.

His eyes widened.

“When was the last time y’ tuned these buggers?”

Hanzo had the good sense to look chastened as he avoided Torbjörn’s eyes. That’s what he thought.

“Alright, they’re gonna have t’ come off while we work. You know that, right?”

The archer’s shoulders slumped a fraction in resignation.
“Yes...”

The two amputees spent a peaceable afternoon as the head robotics expert re-calibrated and replaced the dated neocarbon with his own formula. No longer would their ninja run around without fully functioning legs.

In fact, the deeper into his repairs he got the more the archer’s endurance and sufferance amazed the mechanic. Who knew how long Hanzo had been running around with legs that were more clunky deadweight than streamlined extensions of his body?

The fact that the elder Shimada had spent the day at his side finishing projects the Swede hadn’t gotten around to finishing also worked in the new guy’s favor.

...Alright, color him impressed.

And that was nearly impossible to do, if you believed in the persona the gruff Swede had built up over the years.

-

“Alright, how’s that feel on ye?”

Hanzo looked down in wonder as his ankles answered his mental commands without a fight, without a contest of strength. He didn’t realize how out of sync they had gotten.

As Torbjörn watched out the corner of his eye while Hanzo covered his mouth in an attempt to keep emotion at bay, all he felt was pride at a job well done.

And a newfound respect for the curmudgeon who had caused Genji to become the biggest hybrid job known to man.

“Yer welcome to the workshop whenever y’ feel so inclined.” Torbjörn told the table saw as he pretended not to hear Hanzo’s quiet weeping. His new teammate was re-learning what it felt like to be painless.

He wondered what his wife would think of having another kid for dinner.

Especially one who could reassemble a hard light core without complaint.

Notes:

Torbjorn "I see a child I adopt it" Lindholm.

Yes, a fourty year old is a child to Ultimate Dad Torb.

Chapter 10: Feline Fine

Summary:

Brigitte Lindholm might not know Shimada Hanzo very well, but he shows up in front of her asking for help.

Notes:

Holy smokes y'all, we made it to chapter 10! We're in double digits!!

Yuki means 'snow'~

Chapter Text

A shadow coalesced in a far corner of Hangar 6, moving along the walls like a whisper in a dream.

As previously stated, Hanzo Shimada tried not to use the full force of his stealth when around other Overwatch members, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided.

Like now, for example.

The archer moved in silent steps while he clutched at his now-covered chest. He couldn’t risk getting caught.

Not now.

Not here.

-

Brigitte looked up when the archer landed in front of her door. She turned off her welding torch and lifted her blacksmith’s mask.

“Hanzo? What is it?” Her voice carried her confusion.

“I need your help.” He stated, lowering himself to one knee.

The squire ran over to him on thick boots, reaching out but not touching. Was something wrong? Should she get Angela?

Hanzo lowered the sleeve of his gi, revealing his tattoo and then...

A tiny, white kitten.

Brig blinked.

Then she squealed as quietly as possible, clapping gloved hands and looking at the baby with wide, love-struck eyes.

“Oh Hanzo, can we keep it?” The archer smiled as the girl in front of him acted her age, setting aside the war and all of her cultivated strength to just be a kid again.

“We will have to ask Winston first.” The redhead pouted, making grabby hands for the cat. Hanzo chuckled and handed the kitten into her excited hands. It fit into her palms with plenty of room to spare.

Hanzo thought she might start crying from the love and joy of having such a small creature in her wide, powerful hands. He settled onto his heels and watched the two children bond; the kitten butting it’s head against Brig’s sooty chin and the girl petting its delicate ribs with her index finger.

Then the thing began to purr and Brig’s eyes widened even further. Hanzo smiled. Had he been his brother he would say that her face would get stuck like that, but he was not one for such sentiments with people he barely knew.

“Oh Hanzo, thank you. Winston will love it, I just know he will!”

He watched the teen rub her cheek along the lawnmower purr’s round head and thought to himself ‘If we both go, he will be outnumbered’.

“Perhaps we should ask Hana to accompany us?” ‘The more the merrier. It increases our chances of success.’

Brigitte blushed.

"O-oh. Yes, I’m sure she will be happy to meet Fluffy.”

He quirked an eyebrow. He had been calling the thing ‘Yuki’, so it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only person on base to have a horrible naming sense. Apparently it wasn’t just a Shimada thing. ‘Ramen’ indeed.

“Oh- Unless you had another name for it...”

Hanzo just shook his head and smiled. "I highly doubt anyone could say no to Fluffy." 'Or you, when a child is this happy.'

-

Winston didn't say no.

Chapter 11: Masters and Maestros

Summary:

Lucio is having trouble getting a song right. Hanzo has an idea.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There was no two ways about it. Lúcio was stuck.

The DJ stared down at his notepad while he flipped his pencil around and around his thumb. It was a silly little trick that Genji had taught him and Hana, but it was great for something to fidget with. That, and it wasn’t the clicking of the pen he’d found that finally had the right sound when it clicked. He could play with that thing for hours.

His pencil turned around and around and he whistled tunelessly.

“What…are you doing?”

Well that was easily the last person Lúcio Correia dos Santos expected to hear from today. The DJ looked up from his baggie of banana chips and narrowed his eyes in thought.

“I’m just…I’m stuck, man.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow but set down the bowl he was carrying on the coffee table between them.

“Stuck?” The older man raised his chopsticks while the DJ rubbed the roots of his locks in thought.

“Yeah, it’s this one chord change. I can’t figure out where to go with it. And all the stuff I usually reference just isn’t doing it today!” Lúcio bit his lip in thought, not noticing the dawning understanding on the archer’s face.

“Ah, it is music. May I offer an idea?”

Lucio froze. Yep, his day had gone from unexpected straight up to unbelievable. Hanzo misinterpreted his wide eyes as affront and began to backpedal before the Brazilian man held out a hand.

“Of course, dude! I’m always down for some new tunes!” His leg had started bouncing when he stopped spinning the pencil, but Hanzo didn’t seem to notice. Which was odd, he noticed everything.

Damn, he must just not be saying anything, then. Such jitters probably drove the quiet-loving man up a wall.

But then again, he grew up with Genji.

…That was still over 20 years ago though, but the ninja cleared his throat.

“I may have a few albums that will get you thinking in a new direction, if you wish.”

This time Lucio’s astonished expression turned into a bright grin.

Hanzo returned it hesitantly.

“I will go retrieve them then.” And like that, he was gone.

Much like Lucio’s attention span.

-

When Hanzo returned to the living room it was with a flash drive in hand to give to the younger man. The younger man who was staring at the ceiling. Fair enough.

-

Three days later Lúcio Correia dos Santos was a weeping mess on the couch.

It had been his own folly really. He’d loved the obscure album Hanzo had given him so much that he’d looked up the artists and found the show they’d performed in.

It was a long, long Chinese drama.

About a man in quiet love with his friend and the friend being put through hell again and again because nobody would believe him.

At the time it must have been revolutionary to have a gay character in a lead role, but now, so much later, it was so obvious.

They composed music for one another and held on as long as they could.

Yeah, Lucio was a mess. Crumpled tissues everywhere.

“So Hanzo finally got to you, eh?”

Lúcio paused the stream to look over at the cyber ninja.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” He sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Genji’s mask hissed as he removed it and came to perch on the couch beside his young friend.

“This was always one of his favorite shows. I thought I recognized that opening.”

“I’ve been binging it. It’s beautiful.”

Genji’s smile held a soft warmth.

“Please be sure to tell him you think so. I know it would mean the world to my brother.”

Lúcio sniffled and nodded before pressing play.

-

When Hanzo finally found his brother and Lucio, the latter had fallen asleep on the couch while the end credits to Mao Dao Zu Shi were rolling and the former was placing a throw over him.

“You got another one, brother.”

Hanzo smirked.

“He was interested in the music.”

“Of course he was.” Genji smiled at him, really smiled. The Genji smile. Not the ‘getting into mischief’ smirk or the ‘I’m being polite’ grin. The Genji smile.

Hanzo felt himself soften as he thanked every god in existence for giving him that smile just one more time.

-

Lúcio's new album was a banger.

Notes:

Tell me Hanzo 'I'm beautiful and gay' Shimada wouldn't love mdzs.

Chapter 12: Bastions and Birds

Summary:

Hanzo looked up as the massive shadow eclipsed him. 'Well', he thought, 'it’s as good a day as any to die.'

Notes:

Note: Hanzo calls Bastion by it/it's pronouns until he hears everybody else use he/him.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hanzo looked up as the massive shadow eclipsed him.

Well, he thought, it’s as good a day as any to die.

The Bastion unit just beeped and watched its bird bounce around the garden. It had taken a month and a half for Hanzo to find the place, but apparently the omnic had a greater need for solace and nature. He wouldn’t hold that against it.

“This here Bastion is on thin ice, but he’s alright.” Torbjorn had declared, patting the thing on the back while the other operatives looked at the man and the omnic in shock. Winston was so overwhelmed he forgot to speak. Must be a bit nippy in hell if Winston was keeping his peace.

Jack had stormed out on sight.

Gabe had raised a shotgun with a chillingly steady arm.

Right. Omnic wars.

“Alright mates, let’s not be too hasty! I’m sure Torbjorn knows what he’s about!” Lena blipped around in streaks of blue and orange, her hands up placatingly. Reaper merely growled.

“I am willing to give him a chance.” Genji shrugged.

Nobody was willing to step on that omnic-enhanced landmine, so the Bastion unit stayed.

Which was why Hanzo, freshly returned from a mission with a small bag full of a fragile sapling, came across the massive death machine without warning.

“Hanzo! Welcome back, partner.” The shocked ninja jerked his gaze from the mechanical monster to take in their resident cowboy.

“Mr. McCree.” His shoulders relaxed. The cowboy didn’t seem alarmed by the Bastion unit, leaning against the doorway in a red flannel shirt and jeans. No serape, no chaps, no hat. The sight did things to Hanzo that he chose to ignore.

“Guilty.” The sharpshooter grinned and went to tilt his absent hat. Hanzo had to stifle a giggle.

Then the Bastion unit powered down behind them and went dark.

-

“Well, he’s in as good a shape as I can get ‘im.” The mechanic stroked his long beard as he took in the box-like omnic.

“There’s nothing wrong with his internal power source, is there?” Winston pushed his glasses up his nose nervously. Torbjorn shook his head.

“Nope. I shut him down and rebooted, still nothing.” The Swede huffed.

“He was doin’ just fine when I was watchin’ him. Han was there too.”

Hanzo nodded shortly.

Then he stilled. That afternoon re-played in his mind’s eye, worrying at the memory like a loose thread or a missing tooth. There was something he wasn’t seeing. He rested one crooked finger on his chin in thought.

“Perhaps it is his animal companion?”

Multiple pairs of eyes settled on him in confusion. Hanzo crossed his arms.

“Surely I am not the only one keeping tabs on his avian companion.”

Crickets.

Hanzo let out a huff.

“I would have expected Mr. McCree to have noticed, at least. Sharpshooter indeed.”

“Hey now-“

The ex-scion rolled his eyes, a hint of his natural cockiness shining through. Jesse gulped.

“Perhaps it-“

“Ganymede.” Winston adjusted his glasses again. Hanzo inclined his head in allowance.

“Perhaps Ganymede is a type of coping mechanism. It is not unheard of for survivors of trauma to need emotional support animals.”

Jesse’s eyes widened.

“Never met an omnic who needed one, but that’d make sense…” The gunslinger itched his beard as he thought. Again, not delving into the thoughts that action brought up.

Hanzo nodded curtly.

“It is decided. Winston?”

Oh. Right. The ape was in charge. He cleared his throat and gave permission for whatever it was the ninja was planning.

-

After kicking around the lab long enough to know when he wasn’t needed, Jesse McCree meandered back to the garden.

He whistled in surprise.

There, 50 feet straight up and poised with a foot jammed into a girder stood Hanzo freakin’ Shimada with a small yellow bird in his fingers.

It was a beautiful sight. The kinda’ sight a man keeps away in his memory for a good long time. Golden ribbon catching the setting sun while thin prosthetics form a rough ‘4’ shape while keeping him suspended over open air.

Thoughtless and unhurried, saying something quietly to a fragile, trusting creature.

Yeeeup, that one will stay with him.

“Ah, Mr. McCree! The little bird- Ganymede had lodged himself in one of the risers. I made sure not to disturb the nest.” The ninja easily landed with nearly-silent footfalls.

“…Well then.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Let’s get the critter back to his buddy.” Hanzo nodded, color high from the chance to utilize his skills.

-

Watching the tiny, yellow bird bring Bastion bits of sticky notes and paperclips was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking. None of the assembled aged, hardened agents wanted to have to break it to the bird that Bastion might not wake up.

Then the omnic’s vertical ocular sensor lit up.

Ganymede pecked playfully at the top of the condensed box that made up his friend before the omnic unfolded and chirped back.

“Are you crying, Torbjorn?”

“Shut up, Shimada.” The gruff mechanic had something in his eye, was all. Hanzo simply smiled and let the matter rest.

For now.

Notes:

Hanzo has sharp eyes and has to take in everything, even if it seems inconsequential at the time. Yay paranoia and manipulative training~

Chapter 13: In Memory

Summary:

Zenyatta has been looking inward more and more recently, and Hanzo's heart aches on the Omnic's behalf.

Chapter Text

A gentle sound came from the monk’s vocorder as he floated above the scenic cliff side.

“I was unaware Omnics had need to sigh, Master Zenyatta.” The golden Omnic turned slightly in midair, still in lotus but now partially facing the elder Shimada.

“Oh yes, Shimada-san. Even a being so focused on enlightenment as myself can be taken by the passage of time...”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow and settled into a cross legged pose on the grass to one side of the monk.

He had only meant to check in on his brother’s master while Genji was away, but Tracer’s glum mood had tipped him off to something deeper.

“Tell me about him. Your brother. It helps.”

Zenyatta raised his golden faceplate to feel the mid-day sun.

Hanzo let him have his thoughts, as ready to listen as to pull him out of a spiral if need be.

“He was...” Zenyatta sighed again before settling down to earth beside the archer.

For some reason Hanzo had never quite seen the teacher look so small.

Small may be the wrong word; more like his presence shrank when it was just them and the wildflowers and the town below the cliff.

“Mondatta was strong, in both beliefs and in convictions.”

Hanzo folded his hands in his lap and settled in to listen.

“We would often joke that I knew him best out of the entire world. Outside of the Iris of course.” Hanzo inclined his head. Of course.

-

“Torbjorn? May I ask a favor?” The welding dwarf looked up with a harumph and put aside his soldering iron.

“Aye, what is it lad?”

“Where could I find construction materials? I have yet to see anything wooden on base.”

The engineer raised an eyebrow.

-

“Ms. Oxton-“

“Lena! I keep tellin’ ya it’s fine to use my first name! All of my friends do!”

Hanzo blinked back the flush at being considered such a bright creature’s ‘friend’.

“Lena, then.” The pilot perked up and smiled. It reminded him a bit of when Ariel in The Little Mermaid pushes herself up on the rocks, that was how buoyant her smile and actions were. He shook his head.

“Can you tell me about the Mondatta mission?”

He watched the light fade from her brown eyes and her entire posture wilted, folding in on itself for self-comfort.

Hanzo settled a wide hand on her shoulder and motioned to the kitchen. She nodded mournfully and let him put the kettle on while she let it all out.

-

“Pardon me, Bastion.”

The massive Omnic turned to him with a quiet beeping question.

“Have you been growing lilies, by any chance?”

The archer smiled as the big lug whistled and beeped with joy as he guided Hanzo through his garden.

-

“It will not bring him back, but here he will have a place to be remembered. A place for you to visit whenever you need to.”

The elder ninja smiled sadly at the monk, waiting for some sign that Zenyatta was still with them, emotionally.

The monk floated down to the cushion placed before the altar and reached out gently to trace the framed photograph of his brother.

“Thu-je-che-, Hanzo.” His metal hands settled back in his lap and his shoulders began to shake. “Thank you, my friend.”

Hanzo’s sympathetic smile brightened just a touch. A respectful showing of pride for a gift well received.

“I have brought offerings, if you wish to use them. Shall I leave you alone to honor him?”

Zenyatta’s smile showed through his voice as he shook his head slowly.

“No, my friend. I think I would like you to show me the traditional use for the offerings instead.”

Hanzo smiled softly, sat back down beside the monk, and began to show him the incense he had brought.

If this was what his brother's teacher needed, then it was the least he could do.

This pain, the grief of a brother lost, was one he knew better than his own reflection.

So the two men sat, human and Omnic, and they remembered.

Chapter 14: Gone Fishin’

Summary:

The mission: infiltrate the local gay bar to pick up an informant.

The agents: an aro/ace cyborg and his traumatized brother

Now if they can stop laughing long enough to work, this should be an easy night on the town.

Notes:

DID YOU THINK I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS FIC? AU CONTRAIRE.

We don’t slut-shame in this house and we drink Respect Sex Workers Juice.
Everything in this chapter is sex-positive and they call one another sluts/whores jokingly and never degradingly.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The cowboy rubbed the side of his neck in discomfort.

“Now I’m not doubtin’ the man, ‘s jus’ that… well this here’s me n Genji territory.”

Soldier:76 rolled his near-unseeing eyes.

“Just let th’ boys have fun, Cassidy. I trust ‘em to do a good job.”

Like clockwork, the brothers Shimada opened the sliding door, poking petty fun at one another.

“All I am saying is that you are out of practice, little brother.”

“Oh come on, I’ve always had more game than you, it stretches farther.”

“I pray you mean your rusty game.”

Cole’s mouth had gone dry at the same time Jack cackled.

Genji had switched his eye guard for a sleeker visor that brightened the green neon of his cybernetics and had laid what can only be described as ‘sealed fishnet’ over his arms in a slutty bolero over which he had put on a loose tank top. The cyborg had also replaced a few of his waist joints with trailing, luminescent flexcarbon. He was an Omnic on the town tonight.

Hanzo though.

Well, Hanzo had Brought It.

Cole had to take a minute before he remembered his own name.

The archer had let his hair down to trail over one of his shoulders, teasing that downy-soft undercut. His piercings flashed in the light, drawing attention to his thoroughly pierced ears and a bridge piercing Cole had been thinking about a shameful amount.

The archer had spider bites.

His lips looked luscious.

 

“Can that shirt HAVE more straps?”

Hanzo chuckled and turned to peek under one arm at his brother.

“Yes. This is a relatively simple one.”

Genji narrowed his eyes and let out a tea-kettle scream.

BROTHER HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD THOSE“ The cyborg pointed at his brother’s nipple piercings.

Hanzo had the good sense to blush.

“…A while.”

“Oh my god all these years my brother was a whore.” The back of one metal wrist rested on Genji’s bare forehead dramatically.

“Oh shut up.” But the archer’s shoulders were bouncing in mirth.

Knotting the final tie, Hanzo rolled his shoulders a few times to get the top (a generous use of the term) to settle more favorably (read as: scantily) on his chest. “Hand me that glitter please.”

“OOOOOOO Hanzo’s going fishing tonight!!” Genji clapped his hands in excitement. He had missed this, this easy teasing between friends who had known one another since birth.

“Oh like you aren’t? I seem to recall you being the one with a different partner every night.”

Genji’s chest went cold.

He sighed shakily.

“Um, not anymore, Hanzo.”

His brother froze, glittered fingers part way down his non-tattooed-to-hell arm.

“What?”

Genji flinched. He knew his brother became brusque when he was surprised… or hurt.

“I haven’t… not since…” The cyborg rubbed his human hand down his metal arm. “Hanzo I’m asexual now. Aro/ace.”

“Because of the trauma to your physical body.” Hanzo didn’t say it as a question. Genji could tell he was spiraling but he had been worrying over his brother spiraling for so long that he was at a loss.

Then he set his shoulders.

“Hanzo.”

He watched as his brother’s eyes focused on his. It took a minute and the raw pain in his eyes made Genji bite his lip behind its guard. Just say it.

“Yes, it is partly because of trauma. Another reason is personal choice. I have chosen to identify in the way that brings me the most joy in this time in my life. Perhaps someday that will change, but for someone without reproductive organs, being celibate and focusing on other things is just easier.”

The look on his older brother’s face was priceless despite suddenly being pale as a sheet.

“You don’t…?”

Genji shook his head and smirked.

“Nope. No more embarrassing erections or hitting below the belt.”

Hanzo made a face of ‘well that’s true’ and nodded.

“Dear god did you think this suit was just hyper-suctioned onto me? Not everyone has thin calves like you, brother.”

Hanzo suddenly smirked….

before shifting one ankle and pulling a latch hidden between his thigh muscles.

“I should have known, Genji.”

Genji paled as the prosthetic disengaged from his brother’s leg.

“Both…?”

The archer nodded.

Genji snorted a laugh.

“Of course you would get an upgrade in time to kick me in the non-existent nuts.”

The archer exploded in a laugh and held his peek-a-boo sides.

“You idiot.” He laughed.

Genji shrugged.

“I’ll still get more numbers than you tonight.”

“You’re on.”


With Soldier applying a dusting of glitter to Hanzo’s high cheekbones the brothers were ready to head out.

Leather pants suited the archer so well Cole thought he might faint.

He would fit right in at the gay bar in the city where they were fishing up information.

…and phone numbers.

Notes:

I’ve been worried about writing this chapter for a hot minute bc I myself am aro/ace and I hc Genji as one of us. Not all aro/aces are born aro/ace like me, sometimes it is trauma-based and that’s okay.

This is also your sign to drink water and go to bed if you’ve been binge-reading fic!!!!!!!

Chapter 15: Rock Out Boy

Summary:

Cole Cassidy just wants to rest after a few bad decisions.

Now what in the Sam Hill is that noise?

(You know the drill ft. German this time! If I've used something wrong hmu nicely, I am fragile and scared)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Cole Cassidy was minding his own business, meandering the halls and nursing a cup of coffee after the stupid drinking game Ashe goaded him into the night before.

Then a sound pierced the walls and his head, immediately confusing him and leading him to the hangar where Reinhardt usually kept his armor and Hana her mech.

Whatever he was expecting it sure as hell wasn’t this.

”I’M GONNA CHANGE YOU LIKE A REMIX”

"THEN I’LL RAISE YOU LIKE A PHOENIX”

Then that god-awful noise again.

“Young Cassidy, you have come just in time for karaoke!”

Hanzo chuckled from where he was perched on some sort of machine Torb left in his care.

“It’s hardly karaoke, Sehr Reinhardt. This is music appreciation.” The archer smirked.

Reinhardt nodded boisterously as a bassline began to thrum through Cole’s bones, skin, and nethers.

“What in the Sam Hill…?” was as far as Cole got before the old knight began to yell ‘Nah nah nah’s’ loudly while oiling a pauldron on his armor.

Hanzo plopped down his spanner and peeled off the mech he was working on, only to crank the reproduction boom box their ‘classic rock’ was blasting from.

“WOAH WHERE DID THE PARTY GO-“

“WEEEEEE’RE ENDING IT ON THE PHONE-“

“I’M NOT GONNA GO HoOmE ALONE”

That’s what that sound was.

It was two grown-ass men hitting off-key falsetto to 2010’s ‘emo’ music.

Cole needed to go back to bed.

…preferably a bed on the other side of the base.

Notes:

IT'S ME

HI

 

I'M THE PROBLEM IT'S MEEEE

 

Jk tho I've graduated with Honors and moved a couple thousand miles away from the state I grew up in and have been trying to figure out what my life is now lol. At least I got to write on the train!

Chapter 16: In The Wings

Summary:

Trick-shooting against a rocket-launcher? Hanzo is lucky he's technically a civilian.

Notes:

Sympharrah supremacy ✊

Chapter Text

Pharrah swore in Arabic as her missile went wide yet again. Damn it, she loved Symmetra don’t get her wrong, but if the woman ever touched her weapons again she was going to put her under arrest for impeding an investigation. Or something.

She shook her head, hair ornaments tinkling against one another.

A vicious SNK sounded beside her ear as a reinforced arrow landed smack-bang in the center of the target she had been using.

The Falcon narrowed her eyes and turned in the air where she hovered.

“No one likes a show-off, Archer.”

He shrugged and nocked another arrow, sending it flying true to nestle beside his previous one. She blew hair out of her face and continued treating him to a glare.

Then he met her stare and shot an arrow blind.

Another bullseye.

Alright, is that how he wants to play?

With a frustrated sound she flew higher to get on level with the archer in the rafters.

As she readied another rocket, the archer shot something that could only be called a trick shot. The arrow flew through the air at a spin, tilting it in a far arc before landing true in the head of a nearby dummy. She smirked.

“Missed, archer.”

“I shot the one I was aiming for, Officer. There is more than one in the room.”

She rolled her eyes at the title but paused.

Raising her launcher up to her shoulder, the fighter let a rocket go with little guidance.

It landed three feet to the left of where she shot it.

Damnit Sym. Pharrah landed with startling silence and began to take apart her launcher.

Hanzo looked down, unseen in a new crevasse of the sharpshooting range and smirked, unaware of another sniper taking in the entire exchange through her remaining eye.

Fareeha tossed a stray scrap of metal that had clipped off of one of the rockets the architect had tinkered with. Looking down the barrel with her tattooed eye, the woman began reloading.

Her next shot fired straight and true, decimating the damnable target that held only high-tech arrows. Signs of her foolishness.

The show-off could replace a few arrows.

A small price to pay for a new ally.

Even if he was a smug son of a bitch.

If she was grateful for his disguised advice, he would never have to know.

Chapter 17: A Sniper's Blessings

Summary:

“Come in, Hanzo.”

 

The archer peeked around the door, hesitant to enter Ana Amari’s space despite the invitation.

 

The old sniper smiled and patted the table where she was having afternoon chai.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Come in, Hanzo.”

The archer peeked around the door, hesitant to enter Ana Amari’s space despite the invitation.

The old sniper smiled and patted the table where she was having afternoon chai.

His ribbon shone in the light she kept low for her headaches.

She took in the new overwatch member, silently watching as he settled into the chair across from her and warmed his hands around the teacup she filled for him.

His shoulders relaxed a bit at the warmth, letting the calming effects of her room soak in.

Knick-knacks given to her over the years were nestled lovingly amidst statues of animal-headed gods, throw pillows of every pattern and size loafed about the room, a handful of lamps kept at the lowest setting, incense floating lazily from one corner near an incognito white noise machine…and everywhere there were photos. Framed, loose, on garlands, blown up into posters, hand-pressed into a few of said throw pillows. Everywhere there was home, and family, and culture, and love.

Hanzo continued to take in the walls as he sipped a black bergamot blend.

“I want to thank you for bringing my children guidance and peace.”

He looked at her in shock, his shoulders regaining some of their tension.

She waved it away and took another drink of her tea.

“Cole and Fareeha both vouch for you, you know.”

Statues moved more than Hanzo Shimada did in that moment.

“Both? But what have I done to receive such praise?”

Ana smiled behind her tea cup, eye glittering in quiet mirth.

“You make the effort.”

The sniper might as well have knocked him down.

“You continually help my Fareeha with target practice and you have smoothed over more than one of her spats with her lover.” Hanzo shrugged helplessly. “And Cole is a better man for knowing you.”

Spit went right down the wrong pipe as the archer began to cough helplessly.

“Oh I very much doubt that, he is a good man and I am lucky to know him.”

“He said much the same about you, my dear. He has an inferiority complex larger than the country he hails from and you inspire him to be better.”

If Hanzo were any paler he would have been considered hypothermic.

“I…Thank you, Mrs. Amari.”

Ana leaned back and picked up her teacup gently, letting the warmth waft into her arthritic knuckles.

“Look after them, will you?”

A hand made strong from the bow ran nervously through his hair. That was a massive request. He was just one man. And a broken one at that. He was prideful, spiteful, cruel, a betrayer of all that was good in his brother, a self-destructive alcoholic…

He breathed in the smell of bergamot and incense and let his shoulders and chest relax.

He opened his eyes to level with the sniper who had been healing and killing well before he was born and prepared to accept her favor.

“I will try.”

“Hmm…” She hummed, “There’s no need to be so serious about it, just keep being there for them. They have found a lovely friend in you, even if you think of yourself as flawed.” She thought for a moment. “But who among us isn’t?” A hand came up to rest on her eyepatch with a quiet kind of acceptance of many, many years of sadness and mistakes.

Somehow, he knew exactly what she meant.

He nodded.

“I will.”

She patted his hand and looked over to where her clock began to chime for Dhuhr.

He smiled softly in the gentle light of her sanctuary.

“Next time would you do me the honor of coming to my rooms for tea?”

Her smile was wide and genuine.

“I would be honored, Shimadasan.”

“Please, call me Hanzo.”

If she was surprised by the easy informality he discarded his family name for, she didn’t show it.

“Then you may call me Ana.”

He kissed the back of the hand she held out for him to shake.

She shooed the cheeky man from her rooms before spreading her prayer mat, shaking her head in amusement.

Yes, Cole would be in good hands.

As long as he doesn’t fuck it up.

Notes:

Ana Amari really out here like *Ru Paul Voice* "And don't fuck it up."

Dhuhr should be the prayer time around noon, but if I've gotten it wrong please tell me!

Chapter 18: Water of the Veins

Summary:

A Shimada family reunion does not go as Kiriko had hoped.

 

This chapter involves panic attacks, mutilation, blood, and mentions of torture against a teenage Hanzo. I'll include a summary of the chapter in the notes at the end for anyone who needs to skip this one. :)

Notes:

Bro I've had this chapter in my head since Kiri came out and it feels good to finally post it.

I watched the Dragons short a couple times to figure out if he was a righty or a leftie and from what I can see he uses his right to draw back the bowstring so that's what I went with. (Which makes sense since he needs his left outstretched to summon the dragons.)

Fun fact: Archers have dominant hands and dominant eyes! Our boy had a lot to learn...

T/N 'Reading the Air' is a Japanese cultural thing so his admonishment of his cousin was more of a barb than a reminder. He also uses impersonal honorifics with her, it's a practice he falls into when he's uncomfortable with Genji or Kiriko but in this case, using '-kun' is a more professional/polite way of referring to a female-presenting individual younger than yourself if you are male-presenting.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Thanks for the natto! I’ll replace it when I get back!” Chillingly familiar handwriting accompanied by a chibi in a fox mask made Hanzo Shimada almost drop his miso soup. In the back of the fridge, atop a half-opened convenience store container of fermented soybeans, sat a little pink sticky note probably borrowed from Winston.

Winston.

Shimada the Elder was on a war path down the thinly carpeted corridors between the kitchenette where he kept his breakfast things (on the opposite side of the base from Reaper’s snacks and personal imports, it was better that way), and the monitor-laced lab their resident gorilla holed up in.

“Hanzo! I was just about to summon you and Genji, great timing!”

The ape tensed at the thunderous expression he was being greeted by.

“Hanzo?”

The ninja ran one barely-shaking hand through his ponytail puff and tried to pull himself together.

This was waiting for me at breakfast.” He held out the note resting on his index finger. “Care to explain?”

The harshness of the word ‘explain’ leaving no doubt as to who was giving orders in that moment -- and it was not the gorilla.

Winston had the good graces to shift uncomfortably on his front knuckles.

“Well,-“ The scientist began.

“Hanzo! Look who I found when Cassidy rolled in!” Saved by the green-toned bell. Both of them.

Both of them?

“Shimadasan! Long time no see! When I heard you and Genji had been spotted together I just had to come offer my services! How are my two favorite cousins?” The girl with the fox spirit lying over her shoulders greeted the mortified archer cheerfully.

“Kamorikun, read the air.” Hanzo grit out before sending another glower over his shoulder at the meek leader he had just cowed before storming out of the room.

Genji had said Cassidy was back on base. That was good. At least now his drinking buddy was on home turf, although he felt disconnected from the concept of both ‘home’ and ‘turf’. His vision swam and as Genji called out for him to wait the archer activated a door lock nearby and slipped into the depths of the base.

“Judas Priest Han, y’look awful.” The cowboy tilted his stupid, comforting hat with the familiar gesture of his right thumb.

“May I come in, Mr. Cassidy?”

The cowboy leapt aside at the suspiciously emotional break in the shorter man’s utterance of his name. Granted this wasn’t the time or place he was expectin’ but if that’s how the fates were laying their cards then he wasn’t gonna look twice.

Then Cole Cassidy realized his friend was having a silent panic attack.

Anxiety wasn’t new to someone who lived like they did: constantly on the run, paranoia for days, PTSD, and sleep deprivation that swung between self-preservation and self-destruction. Hell, even panic was at times loathed and useful in turns.

Hanzo Shimada merely suffered in silence, leaning heavily with one hand on Cole’s wall. The man trembled from ribbon to geta and it felt like somebody somewhere had reached into the cowboy’s chest and twisted.

“Hey…hey now, yer alright. Can y’shake your head or nod so I can understand?”

Shortness of breath, misty eyes, pale skin…but the archer nodded. Cole could work with that.

“Did somethin’ happen?”

Half-shrug.

“Can you sit?”

Nod.

“Easy there,” The cowboy shushed, bringing them both down the wall to sit with their backs pressed into blue paint that Cole swore up one side and down the other that he was going to change.

Probably a nice dusty terracotta. Get some sand in there.

As Hanzo’s hands shook, the archer took nearly-silent gasps, his lungs desperately searching for air while wanting none.

Dark fireflies began flitting around the edges of Hanzo’s vision before gloved hands still warm from sunlight and smelling of a baking desert came to rest on the sides of his face. He didn’t know if he whimpered, but if he did Cole Cassidy didn’t say anything.

“Kiriko- My cousin- She-“

Cassidy blinked.

“She’s on-base, yeah. Met up with her on my way back from the States.”

Wrong thing to say.

Cole made the panicked archer meet his eyes, carbon-crystal meeting sarsaparilla-whiskey.

Cole had freckles this close, their noses almost touching.

Hanzo’s mutinous lungs finally let him breathe in the smell of rum, saddle soap, and spices. No matter how far any of these items were from the gunslinger he always managed to carry the smells with him.

It was not unpleasant.

When the archer regained control of his functions he would have to ask why the man also smelled of motor oil, since the idea of Cole Cassidy astride a motorcycle in chaps was just too much for him on a good day.

And a good day this was not.

“She is- I-“

“Breathe Han, I’m right here. Yer safe, and when you’re back with us and I’ve had a decent 28 hours of sleep we can pick out paint swatches for these god-awful barracks.

Hanzo laughed wetly and focused on syncing his breaths with the expanding and contracting barrel chest in front of him. Cole began to rub the archer’s biceps in rhythm, relaxing him more.

“There we go.” He didn’t say it unkindly, more like gently helping a sleepy child back to bed. Bed sounded good, perhaps Hanzo would allow himself the luxury of a solid depression nap. He had to get one thing out of the way first:

“Kamori Kiriko is the reason I no longer wield a sword.”

Onyx eyes met bourbon defiantly. The cowboy paused.

“I no longer can.”

Cole’s eyes widened.

“May I…Can I tell you why?”

Cole merely nodded, reverent of the gift he was being given in the stoic archer’s confidences.

With a shaky inhale the smoky timber of the archer’s voice began to tug Cole Cassidy down a memory lane scented of cherry blossoms and blood.

“It all started when she got that stupid, irreverent haircut.” His hands were beginning to tremble again, but sunshine-on-earth-brown eyes took it in silently.

--

Hanamura, a million years ago:

A teenaged Hanzo – younger now than he had realized, looking back – paced through halls and rooms of tatami and wood trying in turns to calm himself and locate his mutinous little brother.

He had known Genji was up to something, of course he had. Hadn’t he? If only he had been paying attention at lunch instead of focusing on getting a few more minutes of studying done. Stratagem could wait, Genji could not – and would not wait.

And now he had absconded with Kiriko, Hanzo’s secondary charge.

Learn the ropes, stand up straight, perfect the blade, move silently, take care of your brother, look after your cousin – she looks up to you you know.

Yes Father. I know, Father. I will, Father.

The rattling of wood and paper heralded someone re-entering the estate.

“See Kirikochan, I told you that ramen is the best after an outing!”

“Yes, because you can’t disappoint the elders on an empty stomach…” Hanzo had rounded the corner smirking.

Then he saw it.

Their hair.

Genji was usually beyond saving and he did all sorts of hairstyles that the Clan wouldn’t approve of…but Kiri?

His blood went cold. His vision went white.

What the hell was he going to do?

--

“It was to teach me observation. If I c…could not wield the weapon I was raised with then I would have to learn to w..wield another.”("At the same level as the one I was a prodigy with." would occur to the cowboy later.)

Cassidy took in a painful breath.

“What’re you tryin’ to tell me, Han?” Warm hands rested on his cold arms and a comforting mass of cowboy blotted out the light.

The archer merely held up his left arm.

Cole’s eyes narrowed as he tried to pick out what his friend was telling him.

There.

An ugly, knotted scar was buried in the whorls of Fujin’s front leg.

He took in a hiss. That looked like a sonofabitch.

“You…’ Cassidy’s pupils shrunk. ‘You weren't always right-handed, were you?”

A slow nod of a pale face.

He started rubbing the shivering man’s biceps once more, letting the soft leather warm the goosebumps beneath his hands.

“I c…could no longer wield the katana and had all but my tanto locked in a storehouse for such things. I learned the bow. I learned to write and hunt and kill…”

Fujin’s sleeve retracted from view as he buried his arms in cloth.

“Right-handed. It still hurts sometimes. In the rain.”

His attacks…Raijin, the older dragon, relied on the wind and rain.

Fuck.

How a man as large and thick as Hanzo Shimada managed to curl into such a small ball for his friend to hold Cole would never know, but he was thankful…not that it happened, hell no, but that his friend had known, had decided Cole Cassidy, scruffy outlaw and part-time author was the person to pull him together as he fell apart? That the cowboy was thankful for.

“Wait, do Genji’n’em all know that they caused that?"

Hanzo shook his head.

“It was my f..fault, I was remiss in my vigilance I-“

“You were tortured because your Family didn’t like that two dumb teenagers dyed their hair.”

Well when he put it like that…

--

Conditioning. Training. Pain.

Flashes of blood. White-hot nerve jolts as a knife carved along his forearm. Convulsions. Bleeding. Burning.

--

Hot tears flowed unchecked as the archer left Gibraltar far behind, trapped and bleeding in a dark corner of the Shimada Estate.

Wait.

The bottom fell out from Cass’ stomach.

The final fight.

Genji.

They had given Hanzo a sword to kill his little brother.

If Cole was in a better place he would be sick right now.

Genji has no clue, does he?

All this time?

The blood, the rage, the miles of surgical thread…

Left by a butchered assassin sent to do an impossible task with a broken weapon.

Panic and pain were not a clean thing to witness - never were never would be, but with each shuddering gasp from Hanzo’s chest and ragged, silent sob the cowboy felt every inch of himself coming undone in the face of the dam his friend had been forced to build, and carry, and hide behind.

It was a messy thing, pulling nearly 40 years of tears back behind the manicured goatee and the easy confidence of a deadly sniper, but Hanzo did it.

The tunnel vision widened and the gasping slowly deepened.

A wide, bow-string callused hand began to press into the gnarly scar Cassidy now knew to be hidden beneath rings and clouds of ink, staining over his shame and torture in an organized front of beauty and power.

Cole tasted bile.

Slowly, Hanzo Shimada’s left hand relaxed from the tension that turned it to claws and he slumped forward, the panic finally letting him go in exchange for exhaustion and mortification.

Well, exhaustion now, mortification later.

The archer hid a yawn.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed. No buts.”

The other man nodded sleepily.

Cassidy did not envy him the nightmares he would have after the exhaustion wore off.

He also did not envy the task he would be undertaking as soon as he could figure out the most diplomatic way to get drunk and fight his best fucking friend.

His dumbass, ignorant, patchwork best friend.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Notes:

Kiriko and Genji meet up with Hanzo after she steals some of Hanzo's breakfast food. He makes a quick retreat and confides in Cassidy about his teenage years.

His Clan maimed him after Kiri and Genji dyed their hair green because the Clan blamed Hanzo for not keeping a better handle on the two. Due to this maiming, he cannot wield a sword and had to learn to rely on archery. Cassidy puts the pieces together that the reason Genji looks like shredded tuna is because Hanzo could not use the sword as cleanly as he wanted.

He speculates that the Clan leaders wanted Hanzo to die instead of Genji and vows to talk to his friend as Hanzo takes a nap after a panic attack that lasted the entire chapter.

Chapter 19: April Showers

Summary:

Lena and Hanzo have a conversation about the weather. It's surprisingly genuine.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a slow day after a relatively simple escort mission in Tracer's old stomping grounds when she found their archer curled up like a pleased lizard in an attic room.

“What’re you doin’ all the way out here, mate?”

Hanzo dragged his dozy gaze away from the dark wall of water.

“Merely enjoying the rain, Lena.”

“Huh, does it rain a lot in Japan?” The lanky woman picked her way across the garret rafters to sit next to the archer under the eaves. Hanzo hummed and inclined his head to one side.

“Enough that I get nosebleeds any time I leave.”

Lena made a squawk of commiseration.

“Right?! Everybody on base used to poke fun at me!”

Hanzo hummed once more, sleepily.

“Did my brother get them as well?”

Lena pulled up short at the forbidden topic of Enji-Gey Imada-Shay. Then she blinked and tilted her head in recollection.

“You know what, I think he did! I never traced it back to the rain though.” Hanzo smiled from where his face rested on his arms.

“How long as it been since you’ve been home? I mean Japan. I mean- Bollucks, that’s probably a taboo subject, eh?” She mentally kicked herself, but the archer beside her didn’t stir.

“I can still love my home even if the mention of it brings me pain, Lena.”

She didn’t move from her stiffened posture.

The dragon master looked over lazily, completely at peace.

“Did they mock you for bringing an umbrella everywhere?”

She brightened and her shoulders and hips bounced from where she sat tailor-style beside him.

“Do you do that too? Not the mocking thing but…You’re doing it right now, ain’tcha.”

Wide shoulders moved in a chuckle.

“Only a little.”

She leaned a pointy shoulder into his bicep cajolingly. “Arsehole.”

He chuckled a little louder, though still reverent of the silence of a good rainy day.

“I can ride a bicycle one-handed you know.”

“Corr! With the,” She motioned with her hands to illustrate an umbrella open over a pair of handlebars. He hummed in agreement. “Corr.”

She looked over as he unfolded into a cross-legged sit mirroring her own.

“What about you, Lena? What do people in England do when it rains?”

She looked up at the sodden, carved wood in thought.

“Bitch and complain, mostly.”

“But of course.” He inclined his head in agreement.

“But complaining is sort of a national past-time, y’know? Our weather is shit, sunglasses aren’t sold, we see a sliver of sun and suddenly everybody and their mother goes barmy...” She waved her hands expressively as her words petered off.

The usually silent archer chuckled.

Well wait, she thought. Was he?

Or did he keep to himself so much that nobody really knew what he was like?

She hadn’t even noticed Genji’s reactions to weather and they had worked together for years.

If Hanzo had been raised to be even more solitary and stoic than Genji then…

He was making a real effort to change.

The proverbial world shifted around Tracer as she realized how much weight their little conversation truly held.

He had welcomed her into his space, had talked to her, had shared things about his home that he probably hadn’t had a chance to in… Who Knows how long.

She took in his form.

He was relaxed, eyes closed. His bow was less than two inches from his shooting hand but she was less than a foot away from his free one.

He had let her take up his space, and he had brought up Genji, not her. He had glossed over her faux pas and made her feel at ease.

Jesus, she had to get the name of his therapist.

...Or whatever strain of weed he smoked, it had to be one or the other, she thought with a chuckle.

Either way, she liked this Hanzo Shimada. She hoped he stuck around more often.

Taking in the relaxed way his gi pooled around his shoulders and the easy smirk he had for her fumbling, Lena Oxton had a good feeling that he just might.

A thought occurred to her.

"Wait, isn't it illegal to ride a bike while holding an umbrella?"

She had also never seen him roll his eyes before. They were making progress!

Notes:

Hanzo: Lena we are literally in an illegal organization doing illegal things.
Lena: Listen-

--

Why yes, it is raining, to anyone who read the last chapter. ;) I live to cause him pain.

Chapter 20: Homesickness

Summary:

Mei is having a bad day when Hanzo reminds her of a different time and place.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Is this seat taken?”

Mei motioned to the chair opposite her with a loose, apathetic wave. Hanzo settled himself into the navy, plastic chair and pulled out his holopad, waiting.

Mei sighed.

“Do you need something, Mr. Shimada?”

Her eyes widened as her whole countenance began to shine like a sunrise.

“You speak Mandarin!” She was practically bouncing in her seat now, a welcome and marked change from when he walked in. He smirked.

“I admit I’m a little rusty, it’s been a while since I got to enjoy Xi’an.”

Home. He was offering her home.

She had already been having a shit day, between tech malfunctions, forgetting to charge Snowball, and running out of her comfort cocoa she was at the end of her rope.

Then the usually taciturn archer came out of the woodwork to offer her a life raft.

It was probably true that all of the Overwatch agents had homesickness in some form or another, Mei felt like she was constantly being torn in two directions. On one hand, she desperately wanted to go home, enjoy her favorite bao stands and breathe in the smells (good and bad) that made Xi’an a part of her DNA. She craved what she once knew, wished she could go back to when things were safe and taken for granted by a young climatologist-to-be.

The other part of her knew that the home she longed for was long gone.

Her city was still there, geographically; it still had slightly too many inhabitants for its real estate… but being away from a place you knew so well for nearly a decade… It was like putting on a favorite shirt without realizing someone had starched it in the wash. It was the same, but it was not right.

She blinked. Hanzo scrolled past a headline.

Hanzo hadn’t just given her back her mother tongue, he had specifically used slang from ten years ago.

Large, unstoppable tears slipped down her round cheeks. Hanzo barely had time to inwardly panic that he had misstepped somehow and irreparably alienated the only other agent he thought he could talk about home with.

With the uncomfortable creak of cheap, plastic and metal against the linoleum, Mei gathered the buff archer in her tight embrace.

After a moment his shoulders eased and he put a hand on her arm in peaceable reciprocation.

Notes:

Did you seriously think I would have them bond over tea? That's not nearly research-intensive enough for our boy.

Fun fact: Fluffy ends up sitting (and shedding) on her lap while Snowball charges. ^^

Chapter 21: Great Minds

Summary:

A new recruit sets things in motion to save Amelie Lacroix. Hanzo and Jack start a betting pool on his sexuality.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"So are y'gonna just flirt your way through all the new recruits, Hanzo?" The archer rolled his eyes at his friend's jab.

"I cannot help it if I'm naturally delicious, Jack."

The old soldier chuckled lecherously, causing him to laugh more. Hanzo swatted him on the bicep playfully. This did not help Jack's case of the giggles.

--

The situation in question began roughly three hours earlier when any agents in the 'need to know' category (and thus anyone who felt like rubbernecking in Winston's lab) assembled in front of Athena's massive monitors.

Reaper and Sombra pulled up short, her mischievous grin taking over as they took in Overwatch's newest anti-Talon measure:

Jean-Baptiste Augustin.

The charming Haitian recruit had the good manners to look uncomfortable.

"Hey guys, long time no see."

Sombra waggled her fingers in a fluid wave. Reaper merely huffed.

"What do you want, boy?"

That sobered the medic up.

"Amelie."

The room went dead at the word.

Hanzo could have sworn the man was at least Bi, but no one is perfect.

Baptiste continued.

"I'm professionally worried about her continued mental and emotional decline. Reaper, Sombra, we don't know what O'Dieran did to her but after looking over recent feeds..."

Ah, he's a medic, that's what he meant. Hanzo still had a chance.

Black eyes trailed over to a worn cowboy hat currently being pushed up by the gloved thumb of its owner.

Well, it made for a fun thought experiment.

The archer re-focused on the moving collage of screens showing past missions and news feeds surrounding The Widowmaker. Glimpses of an oil-black ponytail, a purple-tinged sniper rifle, and a woman in mid-air swinging on a wire froze for all the agents to see.

Hanzo put his chin between a crook'd index finger and thumb.

"What is our objective here, Winston? Amelie won't go down quietly..." Soldier76 peered closer at one corner of Athena's main monitor. Blind old bat, Hanzo thought affectionately.

"Well, I would like to bring her here. For questioning and medical attention!" Winston's deep voice trailed from the back corner of the room.

The ex-scion narrowed his eyes.

"What do we know about her?" He finally spoke up, bringing warm, deep brown eyes to his own. These were the brown of sweets and laughter, not whiskey and high noon. Hanzo blinked but stuck with the mission.

"She is quite the capable sniper, IQ of..." Hanzo continued taking in the screens as Winston listed off information that he already knew. The archer was trying to be kinder to the gorilla, he really was.

Then it hit him.

"Oh, I've shot her before."

Silence.

Baptiste's eyes widened.

"Of course you have." Jack dissipated the pin-drop and allowed his friend to continue.

"But if we bring her in, we will need to disable her means of escape." The archer reached out and pointed to the thin line the woman brought with her. "I can shoot her, or Ana can," He nodded respectfully at their other sniper, who inclined her head in response. "But this is useless unless we can stop her fully to bring her in."

"Brother," Genji walked up behind the strategizing archer and ignored how Baptiste's eyes narrowed shrewdly, putting pieces together. "Widowmaker was part of the Old Guard, Mrs. Amari or one of the Commanders would know better than we would, I think."

"And Lena." Winston added quietly, although the size of his voice betrayed his attempts at a whisper. Hanzo shot the scientist a chilling glare when Tracer wilted, trying not to tear up. She knew Winston had meant her ties to the original Overwatch, but her mind immediately went to the London Disaster.

"Blackwatch perhaps?" Cole Cassidy, Soldier:76, and Reaper all tensed at the bile the word brought them, but Genji nodded to his brother's idea.

"Moira was one of us first."

"Would it even be possible to deactivate her threat without first taking care of O'Dieran?" Hanzo had read of genetically-installed 'kill switches' before and he was not one to underestimate a rogue scientist...

Especially considering how far in the other direction his and Genji's 'guardians' were.

Who was he to judge the realm of science when he weilded the realm of the mystic?

Actually...

"What if we could remove O'Dieran from the equation?"

Baptiste's eyes widened in shock but narrowed once again as he turned to the monitors.

He was dealing with a strategist.

Finally.

Gabriel Reyes was one hell of a mind, but he was too blinded by rage (and pain) to do much higher thought while Baptiste had worked with him.

The medic still shuddered to think of the different substances he'd caught Moira injecting their rifleman with.

This assumed heir to the yakuza family the medic had heard whispers swirling around the Blackwatch Agent Shimada though, he could be an asset.

The archer in question leaned forward and looked over to the gorilla to silently ask permission to touch his displays. Winston looked flustered (if not slightly afraid, noted Baptiste) but waved his assent.

A gloved hand tapped a few keys on the massive terminal in front of the assembled agents before sleek, black hair was replaced by shocks of red and a mangled left hand that could only be described in Hanzo's thoughts as 'the lesbian manicure from hell'.

"What are you thinking, Mr...?" The new medic leaned forward, trying to catch the vein of whatever was going on behind that stoic mask. Hanzo blinked slowly, unamused but still thinking.

"Shimada. What I am considering is perhaps drawing her out using her own curiosity against her."

Heavy, dark eyebrows raised over an attractive, Caribbean face.

If Shimada could do that...then Overwatch might just have a chance at saving Amelie Lacroix.

--

"Ah, so you intend to seduce him with your giant... brain. I gotcha." The old soldier winked over-dramatically at his best gay friend.

"Get out of here, you schmuck." Hanzo swatted the wheezing, blushing man again to corral him out of the archer’s room.

Any day was a good day if it got Hanzo to use the Yiddish he picked up from Jack. It made the older man feel warm and grateful to have found someone who could joke with him like the old days.

It almost got his mind off the plan Hanzo had concocted with the newest recruit.

Notes:

I love Baptiste sm how could I not make his chapter shameless?

Don't worry, Hanzo won't be wretched to Winston for much longer. He just chafes at leadership that isn't his own.

 

Next chapter is one I've had in my drafts since starting this fic!

Chapter 22: Dragons Become Me

Summary:

Moira O'Dieran seeks to find out how the great spirit dragons tick.

Tick...Tick...Boom, Bitch.

 

WARNING: This chapter contains description of compound fractures, needles, injections, medical tools, and mentions of v*miting. A summary of the chapter will be in the end notes.

Notes:

....This chapter has been in my drafts since I called Hanzo's Dragons Fujin and Raijin (feared gods/evil entities of storms) "Ame(Rain) and Kaminari(Lightening)" aka when I was first getting into the groove of writing our boi.

Kotori, Genji's Dragon, means "little bird", a fun nod to his nickname. C:

Anyway rip to one of my best friends but I hate Sigma and Moira lolllllllllllllllllllllllllll

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hanzo looked up through an eye swollen shut and set his jaw. The ominous tinkling of syringe needles gave away his ‘company’ like an ominous set of wind chimes.

Oh yes, she was talking.

Talking and drawing out a thick, clear liquid into one of her deadly instruments. Through the glare of the surgery lights and his exhausted blurred vision he couldn’t tell where the scientist’s talons (hah!) ended and her tools began. He doubted there was much point to finding a distinction. They were all her tools, whether grafted into her skin or not.

Moira O’Deiran continued talking in her deep, measured way before turning to him and looking at the tattoo draped from his wrist like a sheet of paper. They would have to affix that back to his arm until she could sort out how it worked.

And she would find out, oh yes.

He grit his teeth as the long needle slid through the thin layer of fat just above the inner crease of his elbow, burying deep in his muscle. His face betrayed nothing.

Then he exploded.

The pain behind his eyes was almost instantaneous, his teeth setting on edge as his very bones felt set on fire. A wild, vengeful type of fire that only comes from medical malpractice and malicious intent. His dragons responded immediately, shooting brilliant blue into his irises and giving off sparks that painted his fingertips and caused his arm hair to stand on end.

Angry Japanese spewed from his lips without his command, though he would have willingly given it to the enraged spirits sharing his form.

Twin whirlwinds of rage and righteous possessiveness shot through the medical suite, momentarily brightening the geneticist’s eyes before the brother barreled into her and the sister snapped her arm in two with one clamp of her jaws. The redhead screamed but was left alive. Hanzo sat up as the leather straps that had been holding his forearms to the table melted with the smell of burning meat.

“O’Deiran, What-?” A tall man wandered through the violently shattered sliding glass door. Hanzo’s eyes snapped to this new piece of meat for his ancestral spirits to consume, eyes flicking down to where the barefooted man floated above the glass.

Sigma. Hanzo had been warned about him.

The older man’s eyes widened and he scrambled to pull out his gravitational spheres before the blood-flecked maws could wrap around him next.

Hanzo felt the floor drop out from under him.

He had been warned of this too.

“Raijin! Fujin!" He barked, drawing their massive heads around to where their bearer had begun to drop out of sight.

This would not do.

In the split second free-fall the physically exhausted man had been put through, he had felt the panic give way to acceptance. He had done his damndest, now the rest was out of his hands.

Twin barrels of light and energy thumped into his bruised chest and abdomen before jerking him upwards.

Where his prosthetics had been irreverently removed from him stood two, blue hard light-esque limbs. The claw spur on the backs of his- their ankles dragged across the tile just lightly enough to emit a sound that curdled the stomachs of any with ears.

Including Hanzo, but he would vomit when this was all over.

First he had to finish this.

Tilting back on his-their ‘heels’ he let the twins propel him forward, burying his corded shoulder deep into Seibren’s guts. The scientist went flying and his head hit the wall with an audible thunk. Hanzo centered himself and picked up the vials they had been dosing him with.

The floor began to drop beneath them with the gravity spheres clattering along the floor like an abandoned game of knucklebones.

Hanzo kicked the tools with the toe of Raijin and felt the appreciative grumble at the petty motion. Two spheres went bouncing and flying towards the twig of a geneticist who lay curled in the fetal position around her arm. Hanzo was no doctor, but even he knew that ones wrist shouldn’t be at a right angle to their elbow. Serves her right. Fujin licked her chops from where she shared a headspace with her host. It was his turn to grumble with approval at the pettiness of the action.

The frantic staccato of worried Japanese reached the triad’s ears and they took a moment to cock their head to one side. It was their brother-sister.

And the cowboy and the shrike and her raptor child. Good.

The structure the trio had been held-at-hurt-in-tortured-in had begun to spray dust from the walls and floor as a vortex broke out on its foundations. With the physicist out cold his life’s work was free to do what it would do without human interference: it would consume.

Bounding out of the room and down the rumbling and cracking hallway, he-they called out in their minds to their brother-sister. They felt Kotori’s head perk up when she heard them, heard their call.

Genji let out a sob of sound before pivoting on one sharp heel and leading his extraction team over the shuddering earth around the Talon base.

“Anija! Where are you?

Cassidy and Ana shoved their backs together and a gloved hand clicked the hammer on a very powerful Peacekeeper. It kept the peace by ensuring there would be no chaos.

Not for long anyway.

And this mess? This was a whole lick of chaos to be put to bed.

Just as soon as they got their teammate back.

-

Multiple contusions, two concussions, a folder full of lacerations, miles of sutures, and one incredibly pissed off flying medic later and it was their engineers' turn to be miffed.

After all the work they’d put into those damn legs- O’-fucking-Dieran had to rip em off like so much scrap. The angry little Swede paced back and forth on clumping boots as Hanzo watched him with amusement.

Across the medbay, Genji rested on his fists and watched. He was relieved beyond words to have his brother back, and overjoyed to see the small horde of visitors trickling in and out of Angela’s offices...

But just what had happened out there in the field?

Sharp eyes traced the stretch mark esque patterns that bloomed outwards from his older brother’s eyes.

Who had done that to his brother? Was it Talon that had marked him? Or was his debt to the dragons for repayment in blood and in servtitude come due?

He prayed neither was the case, and not just for himself.

While Genji watched the old guard - Morrison, Ana Amari, and Reinhardt lean on walls or plop down in the plastic chair set beside Hanzo’s hospital bed - he knew to pray not just for himself and his brother, but for all the members of the Overwatch team that had accepted him into their own.

An equally calculating gaze settled on the lone cowboy who had tucked himself into a dark corner of the med bay to watch the same proceedings as Genji.

Yes, he would send out a prayer for their team, as well as anyone else on base who had accepted his brother into their hearts, and stood there waiting with proverbial open arms.

Genji just hoped Hanzo would figure out what the cowboy was offering him before it was too late.

Notes:

Moira has captured Hanzo and she tries to hurt him through various means. The dragons explode out of his body to fight her. Sigma is in the wrong place at the wrong time and the dragons use his abilities to suck the facility (with Sigma and Moira in it) into a black hole in the ground. Hanzo leaves just in the nick of time - Saved by Cole, Ana, Pharrah, and Genji.

Hanzo awakes later in a hospital room surrounded by all of the friends he has made thus far.

 

He's truly joining the team now.

Fun side note: I like blurring the lines between the Dragons and Hanzo when they possess him bc Saltcore is an inspiration and I loved There Are Dangerous Things <3

Chapter 23: A Delicate Dance

Summary:

Amelie is having a hard time quieting her mind after the Talon base fell into the aether with her PCP on board. Having someone tailing her doesn't help.

Or

Rich bitches go to Paris.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Widowmaker had been restless in the days and weeks since two of Talon's agents were wiped from the face of the Earth. She didn't have the words or the emotion for the feeling, but if it were anyone else, they would describe her actions as listless and uncomfortable.

She couldn't sense where she belonged anymore.

Fine art galleries, the opera, killing, none of it filled the void she suddenly stood at the precipice of.

Then, on top of her meandering, she had picked up the annoyance of a tail.

The Japanese man hadn't tried particularly hard to keep himself hidden, though if anyone were less well-versed on social etiquette, then they would think he merely held similar interests to the assassin.

But he had shown up to three art galleries too many before he settled himself beside her at a showing of Swan Lake.

"You do not make for a subtle plant." She drolled, crossing long, shimmering legs in her sleek high-society dress.

The man didn't flick a glance at the slit in her dress that reached almost to her waist. Interesting.

"I never meant to be. Is it wrong for a man on vacation to enjoy the arts?"

His thick accent placed him in Hanamura. Intriguing.

Her needle-thin stiletto knives stayed in her clutch purse.

As the crimson curtain rose to the opulent valance for the show to begin she could almost lose herself in the softness of memory. This had been one of her favorite places to perform; one of her favorite plays to dance.

The gentleman at her side refused to insult the dance by looking away from the stage, despite their conversation.

In fact, he seemed relaxed despite knowing who she was. Surely he knew who she was? No one wore full-body makeup to appear dead outside of performances and costume.

When the stage lights caught the scars around his eye, her unbeating heart could have sped up.

Ozone. Static shocks. O'Dieran's screams. Resounding silence.

Overwatch.

The man in the smartly tailored suit remained perfectly poised.

She could appreciate that.

As the dancers flitted across the stage, Romantic tutus trailing the pink of fictional ladies, Widowmaker found herself pseudo-relaxing at the enemy agent's side.

A patron of the arts would surely put off attempting to kill her until after the encore, if she didn't try to kill him first.

An omnic Seigfried strutted onto the stage in a black, velvet doublet shining with dream-like silver embroidery.

Hanzo found himself smiling.

It wasn't every day that he got to watch a beautifully desegregated performance after a relaxed week of galleries, wine, and expensive finger foods.

Not being mercilessly slaughtered by one of the world's most skilled assassin's was also a plus.

Notes:

The Swan Lake opening I referenced.

 

To anyone who is curious, they're attending the ballet on a formal day! The Paris Ballet has dress codes sometimes, and of course our upper-class snipers are aware of this. ;)

 

This is your sign to go to the bathroom, get something to eat/drink, and to go to sleep if you've been binging fic all night. 💛

Chapter 24: Powderkeg Pt. 1

Summary:

Winston and Hanzo put their heads together to deal with a shaky alliance with the new Junker Queen.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I am not staying behind while my friend puts himself in peril.” The stocky archer shoved an arm through his jacket. Cole hadn’t seen someone get dressed that angrily since…well, Gabe.

And now the cowboy would have to put up with both of the petty motherfuckers because his friend was stubborn as a mule with colic. The tip of one cowboy boot tapped against the carpet as the archer swept through his room, pulling out supplies and packing knives while fuming.

Knives plural.

Cole loved this stubborn pain in the ass.

“Darlin’ they’ve been brawlin’ and fightin’ longer than we’ve been alive. The geezers don’t need us getting in the way.”

A bracer was tightened with an audible VRRK, causing the taller man to wince.

“Yes, but it was my idea.”

Ah.

++

“Hanzo! Exactly the man I wanted to see.”

The archer blinked in the face of the gorilla’s cheer. “That is why you called me, is it not?”

Winston wilted slightly. “I…suppose, yes.”

Hanzo crossed his arms, not out of malice but from having nothing else to do with them. Winston had no way of knowing this was the case and began to proverbially sweat.

“Hanzo! You’re one of the only agents we have who doesn’t use a metal weapon, am I correct?”

The archer blinked slowly.

“Depending on the arrow, yes.”

Winston wilted a little more before he brightened once more. He bounces back quickly, Hanzo noted. A good trait for the leader of an organization.

Especially one as… colorful as theirs.

“Is there a way you could use all carbon arrows?”

A gold ribbon slid smoothly over the archer’s shoulder as he thought.

“It’s certainly possible, though the trajectory wouldn’t be as sharp as I would need. Why do you ask?”

The gorilla smiled.

“How much do you know about Australian Junkers?”

Hanzo leaned one hip against a desk.

“I know the Shimada Family had ties with the former Junker King, Mason Howl, trading …supplies for …” He looked uncomfortable as he tried to think of a nice way of saying ‘radioactivity data that might aid the Clan’ and settled merely on “…Information.”

Winston was speechless. Somehow the archer knew more about the mission than he himself did.

It was almost unfair.

But! This is what outsourcing is for, the gorilla reminded himself. To make up for where management differs from employees. Not that Overwatch agents were his employees, but it’s not like Dummy’s wrote manuals for running technically-illegal resurrected government agencies.

Or maybe they did, with the amount of illegal operations Winston had had to pull members out of.

One of which was standing in front of him and waiting for him to continue.

Winston snapped out of his thoughts with a head shake and motioned for the archer to continue.

It sunk in.

“Wait, you intend to recruit Junkers? They’re anarchists masquerading as a matriarchy. What makes you think they’ll give us the time of day?”

Us. Hanzo had said ‘us’. Winston felt giddy. Hanzo just felt ill.

“Because the new Junker Queen seems like a smart woman, and I figured we have enough fighters to meet her on her terms…Some sort of Junker Rumble, I think I read.”

Hanzo blinked purposefully slowly. He only continued when Winston looked suitably uncomfortable.

“You intend to throw your new agency at a radioactive powderkeg based on a grainy Youtube video of her ‘election’.”

“Well when you put it like that…” Winston rubbed the back of his neck.

Hanzo sighed. He had seen the latest Reckoning; had approved of the way Odessa Stone managed to win her opponents over to her side mid-battle… but that didn’t mean that finding a way to beat her giant magnet automatically guaranteed success.

“If you think it might work I could work with Torbjorn to fashion the arrows you seek. You do know that I have metal in my legs though, don’t you?”

It was Winston’s turn to feel sick. His plan was slipping through his big, hairy fingers and all he could do was watch the grains leave.

Hanzo extended (yet another) lifeline to the spiraling leader.

“During the Omnic Crisis weapons were fashioned from plastic, weren’t they?”

Winston looked up slowly.

“They were.”

Hanzo nodded shortly.

“A type of triple-reinforced modern bakelite, if memory serves. Perhaps Soldier:76 or …the Reaper could lend their expertise.”

Winston didn’t comment on the lag before Reyes’ codename, he was already in hot enough water with the stone-cold archer.

His eyes caught on said archer’s hand. He had seen Hanzo hold his chin like that when he was thinking.

The ape’s heart began to lift. Maybe Hanzo would have some idea about how to salvage the mission!

--

“Then the damn-“ Hanzo took in a frustrated breath and re-worded his insult. “Then Winston in his infinite wisdom decided to ignore the important part of what I said! ‘Consult ’ one of the Old Guard, not send them in!

Cole had never seen his friend this pissed. He had known that Hanzo didn’t always approve of Winston’s leadership choices, but to search the cowboy out, pour him a drink, and begin to vent was a whole new level for the man who usually kept his own council. This one really chapped his khakis, huh.

“Granted Jack andtosomeextentReaper have experience and will probably be fine it does not supersede the fact that our esteemed leader has decided to—”

Cole Cassidy took a drink of whiskey and let Hanzo vent for a moment more before he had to put out the olive branch for the big ape.

“Yer worried about Jack n’em.”

Hanzo pulled up short, eyes widening.

“Is…is that foolish?”

Cole’s heart hurt at the quiet question. Like Hanzo had to ask permission to care about his friends. Sharpshooter’s eyes noted the way the archer’s hands had begun to tremor as his shoulders slumped. The cowboy leaned forward and covered the scarred hands with his gloved one.

To get his mind off the incoming panic attack.

Obviously.

A-ny-way.

“It ain’t foolish to care, Hanzo. Just makes you human.”

The archer’s forehead relaxed as his inner demons quieted.

For now, the gunslinger knew, just for now.

++

The archer slammed his case closed and latched it with practiced hands.

“Winston don’t know yer stowin’ away, does he?”

When black eyes met whiskey the raw fury nearly bowled the cowboy over.

Hanzo slid his bow case (complete with new, comparatively low-tech arrows) over his shoulder, spun on his heel, and walked up the gangplank.

Cassidy let out a low whistle.

Damn.

Notes:

You know how I said Hanzo would reconcile with Winston? Soon.

Chapter 25: Powederkeg Pt. 2

Summary:

Soldier:76 and Reaper face off against the Junkers in a dirt arena. They have backup, should they need it.

Notes:

I read somewhere that Reaper's SEP number was 24? So I used that.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Taking in the dusty arena through Athena’s monitors, the cowboy looped his thumbs through his belt.

“You know, I was surprised when Hanzo asked to go with the away team this time. I knew his loyalty to Ana and 76 went deep but I never thought it would lead him to talk to me.”

Cole looked at the scientist over his shoulder.

Interesting.

He leisurely looked back at the screens.

“He was mighty wound up when he found out yer plans, yeah.”

Tinny applause roared through the speakers as two figures walked into the sandy circle of cameras, their weapons at the ready.

It didn’t matter how old or jaded the two of them got, thought Cassidy. Jack ‘n Gabe would always be a matched set: light and dark, day and night. Both the same height with the same straight posture beaten into them.

Both wielding weapons that should be obsolete.

And somewhere in the wings would be their snipers.

This oughta be good.

+++

On the opposite side of the cameras, two old soldiers stood looking around at their competition. It had gone easier than they’d hoped, getting the Queen to meet with them.

Even if it was against some of her right-hand men.

A muffled sigh sounded from Reaper’s right.

“Just like old times.”

“Hated it then too.”

“Yup.”

“Yep."

76 rolled his shoulders, reveling in the little pop he achieved. He wished he could see where their backup was perched, but he knew the feeling of Ana Amari’s eyes on him and that would have to be enough.

They couldn’t risk mics. Feedback would just distract them when they were inevitably scrambled.

With a flick of the Junker Queen’s hand, an unhinged chortling began to fill the air around the old soldiers.

“Look out below!”

Junkrat.

“Scatter!” One of the Numbers barked before the duo threw themselves to the side, rolling up to land on their feet with guns at the ready.

“Two O’clock, 76!” An angry, filtered voice called out. A pulse rifle was leveled at a flying pile of scrap and tetanus.

Roadhog.

“24!” Soldier:76 barked, “Your six!”

Reaper spun and unloaded on the slip of a thing that had jerked to try to attack his back.

He’d read about Junkrat. Fiercely loyal to Odessa, radioactive, and insane.

He could do crazy. He could fight crazy.

Dual shotguns leveled sideways at the giggling bomber and opened fire.

“Damn it!” Soldier swore as a massive truck hitch grabbed Reaper around the middle, spraying rust and shotgun shells in a wide arc.

Hanzo leaned forward, keeping a sharp eye on each movement the Junkers made and flicking to the deadly dance the Overwatch agents were meeting them with. Sharp eyes bounced around the field like a songbird searching for ants. Quick. Always quick.

Vicious.

Hidden on the other side of the arena, Ana Amari lay watching through her scope. She had been surprised when she and Hanzo had been able to pick out perches and disappear into them with nothing more than a nod. From here, she would have to search with her scope to see any hint of the archer in his shadowy hole high above. She left him to it.

Roadhog roared and began lumbering forward shockingly quickly, picking up speed and eating ground like a vast juggernaut.

“Fuck-“ A clawed hand grabbed the back of his partner’s red white and blue jacket before chucking the soldier across the arena. Soldier landed with a skid, getting dirt and sand streaked up one leg like the baseball player he once was.

The soldier he now is didn’t even look down.

He lined up his pulse rifle with the big Junker. “I’ve got you in my sights.” He growled.

Hanzo had to squint past the barrage of bright red pulses that his friend shot at Roadhog, causing the Junker to raise his arm to guard his gas-masked face.

A grenade exploded dangerously close to Soldier: 24’s back, propelling him forward with the sound. His ears needed to get the hell away from that sound and the rest of him was gonna’ follow.

The Reaper turned his flight into a pivot on the toes of one combat boot, firing a steady stream of lead and curses in a horizontal line. Junkrat cackled and tore what looked to be an entire tractor tire off of his back. The madman waved his fingers in a line, coquettishly.

“Toodles!”

The eye above a tattooed cheek narrowed and a tiny pellet sped into the arena.

From her gun to his tire.

“Hey no fair!” The Junkrat visibly pouted, his shoulders slumping comedically. Reaper wasn’t laughing.

Neither was Hanzo.

The Dragon Master pulled back his bowstring and held it, letting Stormbow click into place.

Black, sharp eyes narrowed slightly, watching. Watching.

The tire flew in a wide semi-circle, it’s trajectory changed but not stopped.

Sparking Japanese was on his tongue, though he held it behind sharpening canines.

“Sorry I’m late, [Vocabulary Not Found]!” An omnic the size of a soccer ball caught the archer’s attentions as the Queen smirked, unnoticed.

What the fuck?

Ana’s eye widened and she levelled her scope again quickly.

Wrecking Ball.

White, triple-reinforced Bakelite caught Roadhog’s hook as the Soldier protected his chest from a savage disembowelment.

The Junker Queen raised an eyebrow.

Plastic.

Well color her surprised.

With the flourish of an arm made strong by the Wasteland, Odessa called her ax to her hand.

“You ready to rock?!” The woman yelled, powerful voice easily carrying over the arena and the stands.

Reaper thought Junkrat was about to cum from the look on his face when his Queen put one boot up on the railing around her throne.

“Junker Q-“ The lanky Junker looked down at where a shotgun pressed into his xiphoid process. Reaper pulled the trigger quite happily, blood flecking his teeth behind his mask.

“Jameson god damn it!” Roadhog growled, the tone implying that he and the other Junker were not on good terms. Huh, Jack thought. There’ll be time to unpack that later.

Tilting the rifle down on one side, Soldier let the massive hook slide into the ground and let the sudden lack of weight slam the rifle butt into the Junker’s chin. Here’s hoping it’s made of glass.

Enraged squeaking filled the arena as the omnic took flight after an arrow, of all things, landed in its path to fucking Jack’s shit up.

Behind Jack’s back.

The ball omnic couldn’t keep itself from rolling up the arrow like the worst ramp known to man (and omnic) before getting launched into the heavily armored crowd.

Had Hanzo been listening for it he would have heard pinball noises in the stands.

There were no rules, no limits. They had all seen the coverage of the Reckoning, both as it occurred and many, many times leading up to this very moment.

Odessa raised her fist as she landed, Jack inwardly wincing at how her knees would treat her once she was old enough to feel the effects of landing squarely on them from such a drop.

It was time.

Her bracer popped out and began glowing blue, waves of magnetism and radiation calling to the massive electromagnet the arena was built into.

Hanzo readied his arrow grimly as the Junkers began to be drawn towards the massive rotating magnet.

Not yet… not yet…

He breathed in as Raijin began to vibrate behind his bones. He loosened the metal industrial bar through his ear.

He exhaled as Fujin rippled up his arm, preparing to pull.

Soldier:76's back went flying towards the magnet as Roadhog’s chest did, the soldier planting his boots between the fighter’s pectorals.

“Eat shit.” He grit out, pulling the trigger that would send a blast through the Junker’s chin and out the top of his head.

Hanzo ignored the blast of red light shooting into the air like an electric volcano blast.

Roadhog slumped, deadweight continuing to draw Jack closer and closer to where Odessa stood, waiting for her ax to level at the incoming agent.

Now. The archer slipped the bar out of his left ear and whipped it into the waiting arrowhead.

A now-metal-tipped arrow shot towards the magnet like a bat out of hell. Like a rat off a sinking ship.

Like a blue star rocketing to earth.

The specially-crafted weapon landed close enough to shave off some of the peach fuzz from the Queen’s cheek.

She grinned.

“Oi! Come on out, you know there’s no rules here!”

[“RYUUGAWAGETIWOKURAU”]

Damn right there were no fucking rules.

-

“Jack has a broken arm, cuts from his visor, and impact fractures on both legs. Gabriel is staring down a nasty concussion and increased tinnitus. Ana Amari is untouched, though I’m putting in for psychological recovery measures for all of the away agents. Hanzo’s scars seem to have spread and he’s ‘angrier than a rattler with braces’ but otherwise unharmed. Torbjorn will look after his prosthetics as they are nearly disassembled from electric shock and high doses of external magnetic waves.”

Mercy clicked her pen and flipped the page on her clipboard.

“Jameson Fawkes, ‘Junkrat’ is recovering surprisingly well from a close-range concussive impact to the sternum. He claims he’s ‘been through worse than a li’l air canon’, and I believe him. Mako Rutledge ‘Roadhog’ is in a medically-induced coma due to potential brain damage and swelling from Soldier: 76’s pulse round. The ‘Junkers’ are lucky that Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison set their weapons to stun and to injure, not to blast holes through human bodies. The rodent pilot of the ‘Wrecking Ball’ mech is dealing with his anger issues while his head is immobilized due to concussions from bouncing around inside a metal ball.”

“Odessa Stone is unharmed outside of having one hell of a haircut after Hanzo pinned her braid to a large magnet.”

-

“Now how in the gay hell did that arrow’ve’yours not overbalance?”

Hanzo smirked smugly.

“It was made to do what it did. It had no metal going into the arena, now did it?”

Jack’s eyes shot over to his friend’s empty upper ear.

“Now how the hell-

“Han! Thank heavens y’all came out alright!” Cole looked pale as he and Genji poured into the med bay.

“Brother you are insane? You could have-“

The archer raised both palms to slow the onslaught. Jack picked at his sling while eavesdropping like it was a championship and he was an Olympiad.

“I knew what I was doing. We knew what we were doing.” Damn the archer, pulling Jack back into this and making it his problem too.

Sharp eyes narrowed as the cowboy continued breathlessly fussing.

“Cole. I knew what I was doing. You do not have to treat me like a misbehaving child.”

THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE.” Well now. Genji hadn’t yelled like that since they were teenagers.

Hanzo merely raised an eyebrow as he blushed with shame.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Genji threw his hands into the air and spun on his heel to leave in a display of emotion Cole hadn’t seen since their Blackwatch days.

“Fuck this! I’m glad you’re alright. Jack, I hate you. Cole, we’re not needed.”

The cowboy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scars radiating out from the archer’s eyes… and now ever so slightly from around his lips where the facial hair could not hide.

Notes:

Junkrat is surprisingly fun to write. Think of the blasts Reaper and Soldier fired off as being concussive force-like vibrations and air instead of solid rounds.

Chapter 26: Burn Rubber

Summary:

Hanzo is stuck in his wheelchair while Torbjorn fixes his legs.

He hates being stuck in his wheelchair.

Notes:

I am a part-time wheelchair user and these are just my feelings on it. Mobility aids give us the ability to move, so they're great! but it's still demoralizing for me sometimes.

Do any of my fellow wheelchair users call it Wheeling? Just me?

Chapter Text

Hanzo was stuck in his wheelchair.

He hated being stuck in his wheelchair.

But at least it was better than the hunk of junk Mercy had offered him while Torbjorn was working on his legs.

He understood, medical wheelchairs weren’t supposed to be for long-term and as such they didn’t have to be of…any quality, let alone good.

Resting his cheek on one fist, he sighed.

“I believe my creator would have asked ‘Why the long face, Hanzo?’ “ He looked up at the futuristic omnic who tilted her head at him.

The archer was still getting used to her more humanistic features but he didn’t let it get to him. ‘The friend of my friend’ and all that.

“I’m…waiting for Mr. Lindholm to finish my lower half. Patience was taught to me from a very early age, but I still find it draining.”

Echo floated closer to the ground, though not insulting him by bending down to talk to him.

“Surely you can find something to do while waiting? You do not seem like the type who waits while reading old magazines.”

Hanzo found himself chuckling quietly and inclined his head, hoping she had been booted up long enough to read gestures. Cole had said she had been in stasis for ‘God knows how long’ and the archer didn’t want to push her if she was still coming online.

She waved him over to a bench so she could sit beside him. A quirk of a thick eyebrow, but he followed. He was short enough on a regular day, he didn’t have to be staring an omnic in the elbow.

Echo lowered softly into a seated position, though her legs remained about two inches above the metal bench. He didn’t draw attention to it.

“How have you entertained yourself in the past, Mr. Shimada?” He inwardly shuddered at the name.

“Just Hanzo, and I used to Wheel around the gardens and wherever there was a path.”

She tilted her head at him again.

“Is that what you would like to do? I can go with you.”

Hanzo began to shrug when an evil glint appeared in his eye.

-

Echo hit near-top flying speed while pushing her new friend and coworker down the narrow hallways.

“Here we go!” She called before releasing his handles.

With a shrieking laugh, he rocketed down the ramp and didn’t even attempt to brake.

“He’s going to get himself killed like that.” The omnic turned to look at Mercy as the medic put a hand on her own hip.

Echo wasn’t sure if she was still booting up or if the medic had formed a small, soft smile at the cackling menace.

She dearly hoped it was the latter.

Chapter 27: Roll With It

Summary:

Hanzo meets a rodent with anger management issues. You'd think they would have things in common.

Notes:

A little something silly after all the action. :)

Chapter Text

Now Hanzo prided himself on being something of a straight-laced human being. (Even if ‘straight’ was an unfortunate turn of phrase.) He was not taken to giggling, let alone around strangers he had yet to extract the respect he was owed from.

However, as he was stared down by a hamster in a soccer ball, he found his composure slipping.

His lips twitched as he tried desperately to remain respectful.

Then the damn thing spoke.

Hanzo’s cackles could be heard ringing clean down the base.

“Do you mock Wrecking Ball?”

He giggled like a girl at a sleepover who was awake far too late.

“Insolence! [Vocabulary not found.]”

High-pitched ‘hehe’s’ echoed off the walls of the test room.

The sound of air compression brought the archer’s eyes down to where the soccer ball had now sprouted sidearms.

“Dance, Shimada.”

His laughter bounced around the base as he free-ran along walls and twisted around ledges in a way he hadn’t been able to since his 20’s.

Enraged squeaking followed him from an animate bowling-ball with a miniature gatling gun.

If their fellow operatives found the sight endearing (Ana and Genji) or heart-warming (Cole), well that was their concern…

Reaper hoped the damn ball would take the little cuss out at the knees.

Chapter 28: Leadership (for) Dummies

Summary:

Hanzo comes to Winston, proverbial hat in his hands, and offers what he can to the new leader.

Notes:

I've had this chapter written since well before I knew what I would do with the Powderkeg chapters xD

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Winston found it hard not to shrink when in the archer’s presence and today was no different.

Hanzo came striding into his lab and looked up at the oversized tire swing where the de-facto leader sat cringing.

He sighed and looked down, ribbon slipping over one shoulder.

“Winston, I…” He looked up just as the gorilla leaned forward to hear him better. Black eyes met primate’s and the archer began to do something Winston didn’t understand.

He was fidgeting.

“I…was wrong in how I’ve treated you as our leader. You showed great initiative and responsibility in putting out the recall signal and I have been nothing but condescending towards your leadership.”

Winston was speechless.

“However, I… Well, I was raised to lead as I’m sure you know.” Winston had seen the pinstripe suit Hanzo of Genji’s teen years in exile. The gorilla didn’t doubt it for a second.

“So I wish to offer my … advice, I suppose. It’s difficult to lead, especially such a diverse group as ours.” The ninja cleared his throat, obviously feeling nervous and contrite.

Two things Winston didn’t know the man could feel - let alone show.

“If you will have it, I will not be hurt if you aren’t interested.”

Winston snapped from his confusion to jump at the offered lifeline.

“Oh I am very much interested! And consider yourself forgiven, I’m not really one to hold grudges.” The ape smiled with his too-large teeth and this time the archer didn’t find them repulsive or juvenile. Their leader was earnest and young, not ignorant and purely idealistic. Hanzo could feel himself beginning to spiral into his old friends: self-deprecation and shame, but he shook his head to clear it.

This was something he could fix. He could help Winston and in doing so could help the organization that took him in and saved his brother’s life.

Hanzo found himself smiling right back at the bright, young leader in front of him.

“Let me get a pencil and paper and I will be right back.”

“Oh no need! I have some somewhere…”

Hanzo folded his kimono-clad legs beneath him on a chair as he watched the scientist bounce around his lab, conferring with Athena in a way that revealed the AI to be as human as he was. It brought a quiet smile to the archer’s face.

“Alright! I have pencils, pens, printer paper, sticky notes, some notebooks, and snacks!” The cheerful ape held up a fruit basket piled high with grapes, apples, and -- of course -- bananas. Hanzo decided not to comment on the latter but instead began to peel a grape.

“Forgive me if I double-back once in a while, it’s been…many years since I last used this knowledge.”

The gorilla nodded excitedly; eyes bright.

Hanzo smiled and began his recollections.

-

“Anija, Athena is calling for dinner—” The cyborg blinked behind his visor at the sight that greeted him in Winston’s lab.

On the ground amidst notebooks, a whiteboard, writing implements, and highlighter-filled maps, sat his brother and Winston, giggling and wielding yardsticks like pointers. Winston struck first, batting Hanzo’s stick aside.

Hanzo’s eyes lit up.

“Revenge!” He yelled, whacking the ape’s stick in retaliation.

The ape chuckled, his great shoulders bouncing up and down.

“So, about this organizational trickledown…” Winston continued.

Genji decided to leave the nerds to their own devices. If Winston wanted to be boring with his brother then it was no business of his.

His heart was filled to bursting at the sound of their laughter as the lab doors hissed closed behind him.

Notes:

I wonder if Genji calls Hanzo 'Anija' because 'Aniki' is also used by Yakuza to refer to gang members higher up than them. Negative connotations and all that. 🤔 (I think Anija is the more formal term, and Quora says that it's also used to refer to an older brother who holds high standing in the community.)

Chapter 29: Mount the Cannons!

Summary:

Hanzo has a secret 'weapon' for Efi that he picked up as a child in the US.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“You are thinking of riding me into battle, are you not?”

The archer looked up at the quadruped Omnic, blinking back to reality.

“I was not…?” He had stayed up far too late messing around with his brother and coworkers, wreaking havoc and doing ‘team building exercises’. He blinked blearily up at Orisa.

Although now that she mentioned it…

Her eyes tilted up as she smiled.

“And now you are thinking about it.”

He sighed with a little bit of force. She had him there.

“Archers have a long history of mounted combat, Orisa. Usually on horseback, though I’ve heard of other farm animals being used. Never a guardian Omnic though. I would never disrespect you.”

She hummed and sat on her back haunches. A little like the puppy Efi had given her for Christmas. Fluffy had had a great time with him. Hanzo still remembers Brigitte’s horrified face as the puppy went tearing after Fluffy on wobbly, baby legs. Hanzo had been more worried about the dog than the hellion with whiskers.

"Efi and her friends would sit astride me quite often in Numbani, I am a much faster mode of travel than traveling by foot through the festivals."

He began to smile at the thought of three 14-year-olds riding a patrol Omnic around the sights and sounds of West Africa.

“It sounds like you love her very much, Orisa, if I may call you that?”

Her smile came through her voice.

“But of course! That is my directive- the name Efi gave me.” She sounded so proud of what her little creator had accomplished.

As well she should be, even Hanzo had been floored by the pre-teen’s intellect and scientific mind when she came for a tour of the new facilities. (And to install Orisa’s necessary charging banks by hand.)

“Still, firing arrows is much different than a tee-shirt canon.” She chuckled, an odd mixture of mirth and machine but he didn’t find it unpleasant like he might have once. He thought of Bastion sadly, though the unit hadn’t held it against him when the archer slipped up on his pronouns.

He smiled at the imagery of Efi Oladele firing merch out of an air canon.

“No, it is quite different. Quieter, at the very least.”

She tilted her head at him.

“Do you have much experience with t-shirt canons?”

He grinned.

“And potato guns. I was a teenager once, you know.”

The next time Efi came to visit, Orisa chattered excitedly about how teenagers fire potatoes out of air canons, and that she had witnessed it herself!
Genji had joined in after the tell-tale THUNK of vegetation being fired from a piece of PVC pipe. He had cackled out loud and begged for a turn, much like Efi was now.

“Efi, you remember Hanzo?” Orisa introduced.

“I remember seeing you around! Now what is this I hear about high-velocity root vegetables?!”

He smiled at the young genius with stars in her eyes.

“Let me go fetch it from my room.”

Notes:

Apparently, potato guns are illegal in some states. I am unapologetic.

Chapter 30: Gunsmoke

Summary:

Ashe has the guts to insult Stormbow. Hanzo has a plan to make her eat her words.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ashe had swaggered in, Winchester on her hip and Omnic at her six and decided to annoy Hanzo Shimada that day.

He somehow kept a cool façade despite preparing extensively for this day.

“Sorry, did I get in the way of your little stick’n’string?”

The archer merely followed the tailored cut of the gunslinger’s boots up to her thigh from where she stood directly between him and a raised target.

“No, as it takes skill to wield my arrows while you merely pull a trigger. After you; I can wait the two seconds it will take for you to aim and miss.”

Genji thanked the stars that he kept up with the training that allowed him to meld with the shadows and silently watch this standoff when all he wanted to do was scream and cheer.

“I know you didn’t just say that.”

“What, are you going to send your Omnic after me for hurting your feelings?”

The white-haired gunsmith blinked and began to flush with anger. How dare he come for her Ult? He had minions just like she did!

“Nah, but I’ll bet you that shooting this here gun’s harder than your little toy there.”

Genji’s fist tightened around the cord he was hanging onto. Mocking their sacred tradition-

“Very well, I accept.”

Ashe’s flawless makeup betrayed her shocked microexpression and Hanzo allowed himself a dark smirk.

Genji took off towards the break room. Wait til everybody heard about this.

-

“How much will you give me when I win?” A cruel smirk stretched Elizabeth ‘Ashe’ Caledonia’s perfectly painted lips. The archer met her cockiness with a quirked brow and posture that belied that he, too, was nobility and would not be talked down to.

“That depends on if you win.”

Scattered ‘Oooooh’s sounded around the hallway outside the practice range. The red-eyed woman flicked her gaze to the open door and back at the silently confident archer.

“This oughta be good.” Sombra smirked, snacking on popcorn she’d lifted from the agent to her left. Lucio cried out a 'hey!' at the loss. (He didn’t need her hacking his hair over a handful of butter.)

Cole Cassidy reached over the musician's bouncing locks and grabbed a handful of the snack himself. He ignored Reaper's claws swiping at his shin for getting in his personal space.

The cowboy merely chuckled quietly and leaned on the railing the DJ and Sombra had settled down beneath.

“What’s the wager?”

“Some form of credits, a lot of them.” Olivia smirked, enjoying the thought of that much currency exchanging hands. Rich people, she loved it when they bickered.

Hanzo crossed his arms and smirked.

“Stop.”

Ashe paused as she reached towards the compound bow.

“Are you sure you don’t want to start with something easier? Stormbow has a bit of a kick.”

She waved him off and picked up the weapon. Hanzo shrugged and wandered over to their audience.

“Mister Cassidy, may I borrow your sidearm?”

Peacekeeper?

Looking into the wickedly intelligent obsidian gaze, the cowboy found himself grinning and drawing the hefty weapon.

“Anything happens to her and I take it outta’ you.”

The archer nodded soberly as he accepted the weapon with both palms.

He then flashed a dark smirk and turned to Cole’s old partner.

“Ladies first.”

 

It was painful, Genji would admit, trying to watch Ashe draw Stormbow’s 290 pound pull.

Hanzo merely crossed his legs where he sat, settled primly with a massive revolver on his lap.

Then the arrow she’d picked kept falling off the bowstring where she tried to keep it in place with the base of her thumb. Like the movies.

A smirk kept twitching the archer’s goatee. He leaned back on the concrete steps, getting comfortable.

With a nauseating TWANG, Stormbow’s string ripped through her unprotected forearm. Ashe swore and dropped the weapon.

Amidst the profanities, Hanzo cooly got to his feet, walked up to the starting point, and raised Peacekeeper.

The air left the room.

Cole’s heart was in his throat.

And lower, seeing his friend handling his gun with easy confidence.

Damn it.

Then the archer moved his hand in a way that left the cowboy with the feeling of flight.

His man- This man was slinging Peacekeeper. Looping around first his trigger finger then his thumb, the archer toyed with the gun in a way that reminded Cole of the early days with her.

A dusty trailer in the middle of Deadlock Gorge, watching the flies give up in the heat while he put her through her paces again and again until he could follow Eastwood and Wayne to his little bisexual heart’s content.

The thick butt of Peacekeeper’s grip hit Hanzo’s wide palm and he raised the gun with both hands. Like he knew what he was doing.

Like he respected the gun and all she could do and stood for.

One shot. One hole in the tiny, distant target.

The smug son of a bitch blew out the gunsmoke with his lush lips and Cassidy was gone.

Deceased.

Lost on this man.

“Thank you, Cole.” The dusty cowboy must’ve zoned out longer than he’d thought if Peacekeeper had cooled enough for the Japanese gunslinger to hand her back to her rightful wielder.

“Uh- -huh.” That voice hadn’t hit puberty, what the fuck Cassidy.

He kicked the darkly chuckling wraith that knew him too well. Popcorn spilled over the training floor.

Olivia rolled her eyes and stood up to avoid the spray.

Come on, show me the money.

“Now, about that wager.”

Ashe glowered up at him from the small stream of blood coming from her arm.

“What do you want?”

Lips twitched into a mischievous grin.

“Dirt on one teenage Cole Cassidy.”

Well now.

The cowboy’s stomach fell like a rock while the cowgirl’s grin turned feral.

“Well shit, all you had to do was ask!”

Cole didn’t like the implications behind the cahoots the two were in as Hanzo helped the other gunner off the floor.

Notes:

Google says Stormbow's draw weight is 200-300lbs so I went with the higher end bc come on. Shoulders.

--

Home stretch everybody! Up next is Cassidy's chapter(s?) and then JTT will be wrapping up. Thank you to everybody old and new who's tagged along with me on this fun journey through Overwatch and the first part of Overwatch 2. :D

(Soujorn, WifeLeaver, and Ramattra are delicious and I love them v much but the story wasn't originally supposed to have any of OVW2 in it... Then my angsty ass went 'but wait, Kiriko.')