Work Text:
McHanzo Week 2016
Day 3 - Alternate Universe
A child is constantly in flux, constantly changing, forming, molding into something new, something different, something outstanding. A child’s daemon is no different, shape and form constantly shifting to fit that of it’s owner. Their words a lilt within a child’s head, becoming a rumble, a roaring sea, when they became an adult.
His brother’s daemon constantly was shifting shape, mid leap, mid spin, mid run. His brother was in constant flux, as a child should be. A sparrow, a shiba inu, a sleek Siamese...
But Hanzo Shimada?
The Shimada were descended from dragons. Strong, stalwart, proud. Fearless in battle and courageous of heart.
Hanzo was born with not just one daemon, but two. An enigma that the Elders could not understand, nor could they correct. A gift from the gods they finally decided. But even at a young age, when daemons are supposed to fluidly slide from one shape to the next, his did not.
Wolves. His daemons were wolves and never shifted shape. Gorgeously large and stark white as snow wolves, eyes a glowing bright blue. Stalwart and strong willed, they followed Hanzo’s every move, never straying, never leaving him alone, a testament to the boy that was commanded to grow up too quickly.
The years were not kind to the eldest of the Shimada boys, Elders sinking their teeth and claws deep within Hanzo, molding him how they wished him to be. Years upon years of their teachings, their words whispered within ear and conditioning being made.
The day he struck down his brother, the Elders’ hissed words of betrayal and unwillingness to heel blinding him to his brother’s pleas, was the day the wolves’ howls echoed around the Shimada estate for the first time; and after his punishment had been enacted for not striking the complete and final blow to Genji, after they had taken his legs from him in a testament that he could not flee, he placed himself into exile.
~~~
Life wasn’t simple for one Jesse McCree, but his Mama had always told him to keep his childhood at heart. “Never grow up, Jesse... Stay that little boy for as long as you can...” They had been her final gasped out words to him as he had been dragged from their home by Deadlock members, his arm outstretched and a scream upon his lips.
They wanted him to grow up at the tender age of six. Gave him a gun, told him “Point and shoot, pull the trigger.” They taught him things... things he wished he had not learned like that.
And yet, through it all, he remembered his Mama’s words. Never grow up.
His daemon never kept a solid shape, constantly in flux, constantly changing, fluid like in its transitions. He was a kid at heart, even though he was an adult, he was a kid at heart as his mother always wished him to be.
He might not act it all the time, but his daemon sure as hell showed it.
He’d never grow up in his heart. Carefree, a never give up attitude, and energy that never seemed to end. He had to do as his Mama told him.
Even after Gabe had rescued him from going to jail, had made him join Blackwatch - of course, to see the angered face of one Jack Morrison and get that goddamn belt buckle with that twenty dollars Reyes won was totally worth it - he still stayed a kid at heart, just as his Mama told him to be.
So when one Hanzo Shimada showed up to the Gibralter Watchtower, two stark white wolves flanking him on either side and all three looking steely, one Jesse McCree sauntered up, daemon bounding behind him... a coyote, a horse, a hawk, a mutt, a longhorn, back to the coyote...
“Well howdy the-...” His words died as Hanzo tilted his head upwards slightly, eyes glaring slightly at the daemon, who only snorted as him and shook itself out, its form undulating before shifting once more.
“Tell it to cease,” Hanzo’s gruff and coarse voice had Jesse’s heart bucking in his chest much like a raging bronco. The wolves snarled as they took on a defensive stance, muscles coiling and shoulders rolling.
"Pardo-" Jesse started, only to silence at what came next.
“Shall we kill it, Master?” Jesse heard within his head, a rolling howl almost like the wind during a snow storm and just as cold, and his head snapped to look at his daemon in confusion.
That was not his daemon’s voice. His carefree daemon’s voice.
“Master?” There it was. Light, lilting, almost like the caress of sunlight upon your face when you lift it upon a summer day.
Hanzo jumped, looking so confused, eyes loosing their steely glare as he placed a hand down and in front of one of the wolves, ceasing their movement and causing them to shake themselves out.
“That was not my daemons’ voices...” He speculated. Precise, calculated, blunt. And yet... under it all, Jesse McCree could see the slight tinge, slight hint, of fear... of not understanding.
It would seem there would be no dancing around with this one, Jesse realized quickly, and he shivered slightly. “And I suppose the howlin’ wind o’ a snow storm was not my daemon’s voice either...”
He had heard tales when he was younger... Tales of soulmates, of how they could hear someone else’s daemon, their other half’s daemon. How it was rare to find your soulmate, that for most, they sadly did not exist. But the few that existed, the few that were gifted with such a bond, should be cherished.
“Oh boy howdy...” Jesse whispered as he rubbed the back of his neck.
This... this would be the death of him, he just knew it.