Chapter Text
Everyone’s soul marks appeared at different times in their lives. His father’s had appeared when he was 13 and in the shower. ‘A Shimada has no right being here.’ Large and bold across his ribs in kanji. His father had always said he’d known his mother would be just as aggressive as her script.
He hadn’t been wrong.
His mother’s had been, ‘How could I stay away?’ written in gentle strokes across her neck when she was 18. She said she’d always assumed it’d belonged to a woman.
That’d made Genji laugh. His appeared when he was 15, rare in the aspect that it wasn’t text, rather a small drawing of a sparrow across the blade of his left shoulder.
Hanzo spent his childhood waiting for his text to appear.Years passed after Genji’s appeared yet Hanzo’s skin remained untouched. He was heartbroken.
Sometimes it was just like that, text didn’t appear. There wasn’t a science to soul marks, not really. People had tried and failed to pin an exact reason why sometimes these marks didn’t appear. Scientists around the world had yet to really figure it out.
Still, he waited.
At age 18 he was still waiting.
“Son, soulmate or not you’re meant for great things,” his father had said. His chest had swelled with pride and yet his heart had thumped in betrayal. He wanted a soulmate. Genji had one, his father and mother had one. He wanted to know what love was because through all of it, all his grandeur and pride, he wanted what his parents had. He wanted what his brother might one day have.
When his soulmark did appear, he’d swallowed all of his pride immediately.
Its arrival was heralded to him by Genji’s sudden uncontrollable snickering during morning sword practice. He was 27.
Genji had dropped his sword, stumbling away to double over, clutching his stomach, tears streaming from his eyes.
Hanzo looked down, his bared chest the canvas to a large, scrawled text in clear English, purposeful and proud.
‘Those handcuffs would look great on you, sugar.’
He froze for a long while, eyebrows knit together and teeth gritted.
Genji stopped snickering after a while.
A hand on his shoulder, “Brother...Are you okay?”
Genji’s question was met with the shocked bark of a laugh.
Hanzo was 38. He’d long since stopped anticipating the arrival of his soulmate, as so many did.
His father was 40 when he’d met his mother, it was nothing new. It wasn’t strictly uncommon for soulmates to be discovered at the least likely of times.
In fact, Hanzo should have long since figured that the scrawled text across his right pectoral was from the hand of a person that spat in the face of social constraint.
“Perhaps he’s a police officer,” Genji sniggered.
Somehow Hanzo doubted it.
They sat in the quiet bustle of a bar, nursing drinks neither seemed to actually want under the thrum of gentle music.
“Zen was worth the wait, you know?” Genji smiled suddenly, lips lifting as he brought the glass to them and took a sip. “I had no idea it was going to be him, I mean,” he cut himself off with a chuckle as he caught the withering stare of his brother under a harsh brow.
Hanzo had heard the story many times.
“You’re probably sick of hearing about it, huh?”
Hanzo grumbled in reply, pushing his drink away and leaning back on the bar stool.
“It’s okay,” Genji smiled good naturedly, “I understand.”
Hanzo huffed his appreciation.
“You’re jealous .” Genji tagged on.
“Another, sugar?” The bartender asked somewhere in the background and Hanzo shook his head, far too preoccupied with shooting daggers at Genji.
“I am not jealous .”
“Oh brother of mine, for all your bluster and pride I know full well you want a soulmate just as much as everyone else.”
Hanzo could say nothing to that.
Genji ceased his prodding with an amused sigh, “They’ll come in time, brother.”
Something Hanzo was sure about was that whomever the speaker of the soul mark was they did nothing but take their time.
In a lower voice Genji leaned closer, slipping into Japanese, “ How are you ?”
Hanzo quirked a brow, answering in kind, “ No change .”
“ Tsk, damn .” Shaking his head Genji rose from his seat, slapping a note on the bar and skirting around the still seated Hanzo, “ If it ever gets worse, I’m not useless. You can ask me for help, brother. You needn’t fight this alone- ”
“Should I need your help I will let you know.” The english words were spoken with a finality that even Genji understood, though the sadness in his eyes betrayed him. With a slow pat on his shoulder, Genji left the bar and out onto the dark streets through the dull wooden double doors. Hanzo watched him go, ignoring the churning in his gut through polishing off both his and the remainder of Genji’s drink.
It was late, too late to be drinking alone on a Wednesday night no matter how badly his fingers itched for another sake to dull the sudden restlessness under his skin.
The bartender kept giving him looks, as if he wanted to say something.
Hanzo sighed a little, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
“Somethin’ on your mind?”
Hanzo didn’t even want to look. The bar was practically empty; the place was really just a cozy hole in the wall that played music that didn’t make Hanzo want to glass himself.
“No.”
Thank whatever god there may be for small mercies, his response was met with silence. Hanzo eyed the clock on the far wall, not even noticing the soft clink of a glass being placed before him until he turned around to see a fresh glass of sake before him.
He shook his head a little, wrapping a hand around the glass and bringing it to his lips.It wasn’t the same sake as before: this was stronger. Better, even. The bartender resolutely didn’t pick up conversation again and Hanzo left a tip on the counter before finally stepping out onto the cold autumn streets.
He had work to do.
“Is this going to be your life forever?” Genji’s voice crackled over the phone as the signal struggled with connection. The rain poured outside of the underpass Hanzo was situated in, hands sticky with blood gripped against the mobile.
“Possibly.” He shrugged despite Genji not being about to see the gesture It was comforting, to behave blasé despite his situation.
“It went south?”
“Yes.”
“You’re injured?”
“No.”
He could hear Genji’s relieved sighs and the voice of someone else. “Hold on,” Genji whispered, the sound distorting as he audibly covered the mic with a hand. Hanzo could hear nonetheless. “It’s Hanzo.”
A reply of, “Is he alright?” in a smooth but familiar voice.
Genji’s scared, small answer dropped a pit to the bottom of Hanzo’s stomach. “I don’t know .”
He hung up, staring at Genji’s grinning contact picture for a second before huffing and closing the phone with a click, making sure to swipe it to silent before he tucked it into his pocket.
Instead of carrying him home, his feet carried him to Blackwatch Bar, the very same from the day before.
He pushed in through the door with a shoulder and headed straight to the restroom at the back of the place, lighting poor enough to give him some privacy as he shoved his hands into the basin and washed the blood from them, the scent of copper soon overtaken by cheap sanitizer.Satisfied, he made a beeline straight for the exit.
“Not stoppin’ for a drink?” An amused voice caught him unawares, bar to his right empty but for the man polishing a glass in his hands, amused smirk pushing crinkles around brown eyes.
“I-” Hanzo stopped, unsure.
“If you got somewhere to be then be on your way, ain’t no trouble” The man put down the empty glass so he could better gesture to the door with accentuated grandeur. “But this place is slower than a herd of turtles and I sure as hell won’t turn down company.”
Hanzo glanced around, noticing the bar was nigh empty save he and the barkeep, somewhat similar to the night before.
“‘Sides, you’re the kinda fella that looks like he could always use a drink.”
What was that supposed to mean?
The man must have recognised Hanzo’s irritation and laughed good naturedly, reaching for a tap and filling up the same glass from before with a golden cider. “Naw, don’t think of it like that, just know a man after my own heart when I see one, s’all.”
The tension tearing at Hanzo’s shoulders sagged a little and he stepped forward, sitting at the bar.
“Sake.”
“Sure thing.”
“Preferably the same brand as before.”
The bartender grinned at that, eyes flashing with interest as he took Hanzo in with a cocked brow. He poured the sake with quick movements, pushing the drink towards him and taking another long drag of his own,
“Jesse McCree. Folks ‘round here know me as McCree,” He smiled something wicked, “But you can call me Jesse.”
Hanzo took a moment to examine the man in front of him. The first thing anyone would notice about Jesse McCree the moment he opened his mouth was the deep southern drawl of an accent. The second was that he held himself with the air of someone that knew more than they let on.
“Hanzo.”
“Seen you around here a couple of times, Hanzo. Live nearby?”
Hanzo wanted to ask if they were playing 21 questions and if so whether or not Jesse had heard of the phrase concerning curiosity and the cat. Instead, he responded with a tighter grip on his glass and a neutral reply of, “Near enough.”
“And the blood on your hands, was that yours?”
Jesse levelled Hanzo with a blank stare, a steady pokerface probably mirroring his own. He said nothing.
After a second Jesse raised his hands in surrender, expression slipping into something friendlier, “Ain’t none of my business, just that the boss would have my hide if I let someone trail trouble in here.” Another moment of silence locked with brown eyes, “But we ain’t gonna have none of that, right?”
Slightly more at ease, Hanzo took a steady drink of the sake in front of him. “No trouble. You have my word.”
“Well then, I’m mighty glad. Had me worried you were going to pick up that there glass and kill me with it for a second there.”
Hanzo chuckled grimly. “There are better things to do with a glass of sake.”
“You’re not wrong.” Jesse hummed in turn, “Don’t have the stomach for it myself, prefer something with a little more bite.”
“Such as cider?” Hanzo couldn’t help the tease that left his lips.
Jesse gestured vaguely, groaning. “Boss swore me off drinking liquor during hours, makin’ out it’s bad for business. Only thing bad for business round here is the lack of business.”
Surprised, Hanzo huffed a laugh. “But there you have your answer. No one is here but me. Pour yourself a drink.” His nerves jumped about as he watched McCree incline his head and swap out his cider for aged whiskey. His eyes flicked to the clock mounted on the far wall, gaudy red against black.
23:45
He could only linger for so long before he’d need to leave.
“So, Hanzo ,” McCree rolled his name through his lips like a cigarette between deft fingers, grinning all the while, “Get out often?”
Hanzo almost spat his drink out.
“Excuse me?”
“Y’know, darlin’, d’ya get out often?”
“I-No, not particularly.” Hanzo, struck for what to say, answered embarrassingly honestly.
Jesse liked that, tipping his head back in a laugh, “S’pose muggers don’t have much of a social life.”
Irked, Hanzo’s brow twitched a little, lip curling in offense, “I am not a mugger.”
Shrugging innocently McCree smiled, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
Silence for the moment Hanzo took another long drink.
“Assassin?”
“No.”
“Mortician?”
A sigh, “No.”
“I got one- You’re a member of a secret team of heroes, set on savin’ the world.”
“Yes.”
Another laugh, hearty and genuine, “Really?”
“No.”
“Dang.”
They spoke for a while, of simple things, easy conversation that didn’t require Hanzo to respond in more than a sentence here and there. Jesse McCree could talk for high heaven it seemed, words spilling from his lips quicker still once the glass of golden whiskey had drained to dregs.
“I...have to go.” Hanzo eventually admitted, surprised at his own reluctance.
Jesse stopped short of presumably another wild story, face falling slightly, “Aw, hell.”
They both looked at the clock on the wall.
A short chuckle and Jesse ran his hand through his hair. “Shit, shoulda closed up twenty minutes ago.”
Hanzo knew what was coming next.
“Can I walk you home?”
He sighed, “I’ll get there fine myself but thank you.” He was already getting up, shrugging on the jacket he’d formerly taken off. The alcohol in his system touched his cheeks a faint pink and Jesse’s ears held much the same red underneath tousled brown hair.
Standing to the side Hanzo, found himself watching Jesse clearing away the glasses, taking off his apron, slinging it to the side and rummaging under the bar.
His gaze flickered briefly to the door, tempted to wave a quick goodbye and step out, his thought process briefly stopping as McCree placed the gaudiest hat Hanzo had possibly ever seen atop his head, rattling keys in one of his hands and an unlit cigar bit between his teeth. “Y’ready to go?” He grinned around it as Hanzo schooled his expression into something less akin to the face a child might make when faced with something ridiculous.
With a nod together they stepped out, Jesse turning to lock the doors just as Hanzo’s eyes set upon a figure across the street.
The streetlamps illuminated the stranger across the road enough for Hanzo to recognise his silhouette; Genji. The man stayed put, obviously waiting for Hanzo to shake McCree’s presence.
“Well, my place is a few blocks west of here, sure I can’t walk you back? Or maybe you’d fancy-”
“I am fine, McCree. Thank you.”
Frowning, McCree’s eyes followed Hanzo’s. “Y’sure?” He could hear the knowing undertone even through the casual question as Jesse’s eyes also landed on the man across the road.
“I am.”
A hand on his upper arm tore Hanzo’s eyes away from his brother. McCree shot him a smirk, tipped his hat and strode away. It was a few seconds of watching Jesse saunter away before Genji was at his side, shoving his shoulder angrily.
“ Blackwatch Bar? ” He hissed in Japanese, “ You screw up a job and go to a bar ? ”
Hanzo rolled his eyes and began walking in the direction to his apartment, the moon casting long shadows on the cars parked in the empty street. “How did you know where I was?”
Genji jogged besides him, eyes still downcast and irked, arms crossed stiffly over his chest. He snorted derisively and shot a sneer at Hanzo. “So it’s fine for you to track my phone, but I’m not allowed to track yours?”
Touché, Hanzo thought to himself as they reached his door and he unlocked it, stepping inside.
Genji grabbed his arm before he could get all the way past the threshold.
“Anija, I...”
He sounded pained and Hanzo exhaled guiltily, turning to face him, his eyes met Genji’s own filled with regret and hesitancy, “I have a skillset, Genji. I have a means to make money, I have a way to keep them off our back. I understand your worry, I understand that you want to help but please.” He placed a hand atop Genji’s, “Trust that I am capable.”
Genji’s expression twisted further. “I have never doubted your capabilities , Hanzo. I’m worried about you .” His finger tapped Hanzo’s chest pointedly before stepping back onto the sidewalk, “You need a friend, and you need to talk to me more. You can’t just hole yourself up in there forever and mope about the injustices of life until your next job.”
I can and I will, Hanzo didn’t say.
“Thank you for the concern, Genji.”
Genji responded with a frustrated series of groans even as he paced on the sidewalk, a hand carding through his green hair. “Hanzo, just--don’t do that to me again. Ever again.”
“I’ll--” Hanzo inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I won’t.”
Genji didn’t look convinced, shaking his head. “Goodnight, brother.”
“Goodnight.”
After a second of watching Genji leave, Hanzo shut the door, slinking into his clean apartment, gaps between the blinds spilling in the warm light from the lamps outside. He reached for the phone within his pocket, skimming over his last messages to Genji:
Hanzo: Job compromised, may require pick up.
Genji: shit can i call u?
Hanzo: yes
Much to his surprise a message popped up as he stared
Genji: forgot to ask, why were you at BB?
Hanzo: To wash hands
Genji: it took you 3 and a half hours to do that? xD
Hanzo didn’t respond, instead choosing to bustle around the kitchen, swiping tea from a cupboard and popping it in a mug. When his phone buzzed again on the side, he glanced at it;
Genji: mccree is a good man ;)
Another buzz.
Genji: i could give you his number ;) ;)
Genji: doesn’t look like he’d mind ;) ;) ;)
A screenshot followed the third text of a conversation shared between Genji and McCree within the past five minutes.
J.McCree: Howdy Genji! Ur brother stopped by Blackwatch earlier, forgot to give him my number, don’t suppose you’d mind? Lol
Genji: Not at all ;)
Following the screenshot was a number. Hanzo hovered over it, frowning at the screen even as the water boiled and he poured it into his mug.
To hell with it.
He saved the number under ‘McCree’ and shot him a quick text.
Hanzo: This is Hanzo.
He stared at the message after sending it, cursing himself further for his complete lack of tact. It took ten minutes of Hanzo pacing before he settled down, scrubbed any lingering blood from himself, changed into sweats and a tank and lay down in bed. The phone vibrating in his hand startled him from the beginnings of sleep, and he brought it closer with weary eyes.
McCree: Genji gave ya my number then? :P howdy
He rolled his eyes, denying the grin a place on his face.
Hanzo: What gave it away? Hello.
McCree: if he didn’t give it ya…..:O you’re a hacker like Mr Robot
Hanzo: No
McCree: dang
It was twenty minutes before the next text.
McCree: Should come back to the bar soon, was pretty nice havin you there
He groaned as he shook his head into his pillow, turning his phone off and rolling onto his side. His thoughts raced a mile a minute as he tried to steady his thinking.
McCree was an attractive man. Hanzo recognized that, he was only human afterall.
McCree was also a potential liability.
As if to nail in the point, he got his final text of the night.
Anon: This is the client, G.Rey. Escort @ Base A 1700. Tomorrow. Covert.
Another job.
He closed his eyes, the taste of sake at the back of his throat and the low pitched timbre of a southern twang clouding his thoughts.