Chapter Text
H a n z o
The pain has him squirming through the night and his nails scratching the spot until he gets some relief, enough to fall back asleep, but the feeling returns. He hisses and moans against his pillow, muffling the sound to anyone passing by, especially Genji. If his younger brother passes by his room and hears him, who knows what fables he will come up with at breakfast. His knuckles turn pale as his grip tightens on the sheets underneath him. He should get up and see the source of said pain, but once his hands brush the lower spot of his back and finds no lump or scar, nor anything that stands out to his touch, he leaves it unknown until morning.
A line of Japanese curse bounces off the walls in his room when the sun rises. His teeth clench and his fist almost rips his shirt apart as his back faces the mirror. He turns to look over his shoulder once again and wishes for the image to be a dream, but it's real.
There is a familiar presence in his surroundings in a second and he thinks it over, until he realizes he needs someone to confide in. “Genji!” He calls out and the door opens at his command.
A younger boy with green, spiked up hair appears, hands raised in surrender.
“I haven’t done anything,” Genji says, but still comes in and closes the door behind him.
Hanzo looks away from him, but doesn’t face the mirror either. His head drops in defeat and lets the scene speak for itself: the mirror catching the reflection of his back, while his shirt is raised and a new addition to his body sets on his lower back.
“Holy shit!” Genji laughs as he steps behind Hanzo to have a better look. He crouches down and his hands hold Hanzo still in case the older Shimada regrets it and runs away.
Hanzo’s lower back has turned into the canvas of a new painting, a hilarious and trashy flaming skull with two guns on each side. The words ‘El Patrón’ (The Boss) are written in a tacky font under it and Genji tries to read it and understand, but gives up when his laughter wins.
“Oh, boy, Hanzo,” he keeps laughing as he straightens his body and falls on Hanzo’s bed to continue the fit.
Hanzo huffs and lowers his shirt before crossing his arms. “You don’t think someone actually got this permanently on their skin, right?” It had to be a temporary drawing, who would do such a thing to their body?
“Looks like it,” Genji shrugs. “Whoever it is, they’re your mate for life.” Genji laughs again and Hanzo’s brow twitches in annoyance, at Genji and at his stupid soulmate for being such a fool. It had gone years without communicating with them. They use to doodle animals and write things like ‘hello’ to each other, but saw no point to it as he grew older, making their interactions stop. But now he realizes, maybe he should have continued. He would have said anything to prevent this from happening.
Hanzo examines his brother’s collar bones peaking through his tank top, at the birds drawn over them and the feathers falling down his arms. At first, he found this whole soulmate thing immature, and now that he sees the delicate, simple drawings his brother gets almost everyday against his ugly tattoo, he cherishes what he never had.
“What would father say?” Hanzo mumbles to himself.
“Oh, he will hunt them down. Who dares mark his precious heir and favorite son?” Genji says it nonchalantly, but there’s a hint of wonder in his eyes before it disappears in a blink.
Hanzo hums to his words, wonders how Genji believes he is the favorite when the younger one is allowed so much while he spends his days in the palace, under his father or the elders’ watch.
“Look at it this way,” Genji brings him back to their conversation. “You’re closer to finding them.”
“As if i would want someone like this in my life.”
Genji curls his lips, “so your plan is to simply ignore the person? What happens if you do meet and don’t know it is them?” Slowly, Genji’s face turns wicked, “or are you planning on bedding them on the first meet? I didn’t know you had it in you, brother.”
Hanzo scoffs to Genji’s last remark, “I think someone with a marking this loud will be easy to spot in a crowd.”
“And heard in the bedroom,” Genji snickers. “But i see your point.” He gets off the bed. “You’re lucky it’s your day off, we should drown this morning in some sake.”
“Father would take away all my days off if he caught you drunk under my watch while we’re out.” He’s aware of Genji’s shenanigans, and he allows some of them, but drinking outside of the house is a big ‘no’. He prefers he does it in the palace, with alcohol he provides himself. “Besides, I am the one that needs to forget. Your soulmate at least has some taste,” Hanzo crosses his arms and half of his mouth quirks up. “You should learn from them.”
Genji crosses his arms as well to mock his older brother, “they are my soulmate after all, so I must have good taste.”
Hanzo’s half smile turns into a whole one. “Well said.”
J e s s e
His wrist are bound together by steel, even the slightest shift makes the grip tighten. He’s too tired to even form an escape plan, too tired to face the person in front of him. They speak with authority, their arms crossed and their legs apart, but firm on the floor. They play every little detail in the book to make Jesse feel smaller, but he’s not afraid of them.
“Are you listening to me, pendejo ? (dumbass)” The man growls.
“ Te escucho (i hear you) ,” Jesse responds and lifts his head.
“I’m giving you another chance, and I need to know, now.”
Another chance in life, to do good, to start over and erase the red marks on his record. “ Accepto .” (I accept)
The man smiles and his eyes show pride in himself, “I’m Commander Reyes, welcome aboard, kid.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” are the next words he hears coming from Commander Reyes while he’s exchanging his old Deadlock clothes for Blackwatch sweats and shirt.
He turns around to face the man at the door frame of the infirmary. “What’re you on about, jefe (boss)?”
“That travesty on your back,” Reyes points at the tattoo on the lower part of his back and Jesse twists to see, not knowing what he’s talking about at first. “Oh, yeah, got it a year ago.”
“It needs to go,” Reyes crosses his arms. “If I want Morrison, the UN and the others to think I didn’t make a mistake by letting you into Blackwatch, you need to break any ties you had with your old friends. Besides, it’s embarrassing to just look at it.”
“Is gun’ hurt, isn’t it?” Jesse whines and Reyes’ frowns at him first.
“ Como puta ,(like a bitch)” then he actually smiles. “But not our top priority right now. Just don’t show it off, I don’t need Morrison mocking me about it.”
H a n z o
More than a year had to pass for Hanzo to step foot in a tattoo parlor. After the disaster that got marked on his skin, he had pushed away the thought about getting one for himself. He had the idea figured out, even made different drawings of it, the blue Shimada dragons would cover half of his chest and down his arm. Even his father nodded in approval; it was an elegant painting, fit for an heir.
Genji had desired the same idea, but with one green dragon. He wrote on his skin, asking his soulmate for permission, but the other half was not sure about it. For now, Genji wears drawings of dragons in temporary ink all over his mark. Not as elegant, they’re mostly silly doodles, done by him and his soulmate, and he shows them off proudly.
This is the first place they visit, merely for information, to look around and see the art style, find the perfect artist for his masterpiece. Both of the Shimada brothers are looking through art books of the different employees in the parlour, while two guards wait at the door to inspect any other clients.
“I like this girls’ style,” Genji says over the book he’s looking through. “She pays attention to detail, perfect for your dragons.”
Hanzo hums and nods, still paying attention to the book in his hands. The artist does great work with shadows, it will make his dragons very realistic.
“You should get your soulmate back,” Genji smirks. “Get a pachimari on your ass cheek.”
Hanzo can’t help the laugh that escapes him, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote something like ‘cute’ in response to it.”
“Or get a matching one on his other cheek.” Genji laughs too loud as he shuts the book close. “You’d officially have the most outrageous soulmate ever.”
“Maybe now is not the time to get it.” Hanzo softly closes the art book and places it on the counter.
“It’s a kick ass idea, Hanzo,” Genji sets the other book down as well. “You aren’t seriously thinking what they would say, right?”
“No, they didn’t think about me, why would I care?”
“Exactly, just get it.” Genji points to an empty station as he stares at his brother. “You’re lucky you don’t care, mine wants to wait until they’re older since it’s a big deal. And I, sadly, respect them.”
Hanzo scoffs and smiles, “that surprises me of this case. You care, meanwhile, I don’t.”
“How the tables turn.”
He notices the tattoo disappears a month later. It irks him that he realizes it’s gone because he suddenly feels alone and missing something, a piece. He spends many nights looking at the marking, pressing his fingers to it, imagining his soulmate wearing it. He tried to give them a face, a voice, a stare, even a body, something solid, but they never felt right.
Having the tattoo taken away, even if it was horrendous, lets him know that this soulmate thing the universe has come up can’t be so easily ignored, no matter how much he wants to believe someone who will dare to get that to decorate his body deserves him.
“I do wonder, why didn’t I physically feel it?” He says to Genji while his brother looks over at the now blank spot, like it has never been touched.
Genji hums as he touches his chin. “Well, soulmates can only share ink. You may feel when it’s being done because it’s an addition of it. Even when my soulmates scribbles, I feel the tickle of the pen, but when they leave, I don’t feel the process.”
His mouth twitches, wanting to smile, to show Genji he’s proud. He hears so many comments on Genji not being logical or smart, but he is so bright when he wants to. “How do you feel when you find your skin has shed all those tracks from your soulmate?”
Genji hesitates and his eyes fall to the floor. “Lost.”
J e s s e
His six months of probation were done and his first mission comes and goes. It was easy, no one died, only a few injuries. He had Reyes by his side at all times; he wants to believe it was to keep him safe, but he’s sure it was to make sure he didn’t run off.
“Good job, McCree,” Reyes clasps the boy’s shoulder as they get on the shuttle.
“Thank you,” Jesse nods as he picks up his cowboy hat from a chair, right where he left it before getting off.
He decides to rest back and cover his eyes with his hat to take a nap until they get to base. He drifts away easily when the adrenaline ceases, but not before he hears Commander Reyes giving orders of every agent handing it a report by morning.
“ Escuchaste (did you hear), McCree?”
Jesse gives him a thumbs up.
Halfway through the flight is when the pain starts. It fades in at his shoulder and he’s too deep asleep to feel it. It’s when the pinch reaches his chest that he wakes up with a start. The two agents sitting by his side yelp at his action, but say nothing when they see him curl up and holding his shoulder.
“Commander,” one calls over and Reyes is there in a heartbeat when he sees the sight.
“McCree?” He kneels down in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
“It hurts, boss,” Jesse mumbles as his hand goes all over his left arm, not knowing where to grab, where to put pressure on so it’ll stop.
“Were you hurt on mission?”
Jesse shakes his head frantically. “No, sir, I’m sure.”
Reyes examines him over, he shows no visible wounds and no blood is soaking through, but he looks in so much pain.
“Hold on, we’re almost at base.”
Once they reach base, he’s taken to the doctors, but no pills cease the pain. The last resort is to put him to sleep, making it easier for the doctors to check on him, but once his gloves and uniform is taken off, they find the source of the pain.
Jesse wakes up slowly, drowsy and out of place. The lights on the ceiling hurt his eyes as his vision clears. He’s confused to where he is and tries to replay his steps. The last thing he remembers is pain, all over his left arm and half of his chest.
“Jesse?” Reyes is by his side, so is Strike Commander Jack Morrison and Captain Ana Amari.
“What happened?” McCree’s mouth is dry as he speaks. “How long was I out?”
“Four hours,” Ana says.
“Damn,” Jesse slowly blinks as he looks at his feet. “Did they find why I was hurtin’?”
They were quiet and then Jack and Ana looked at Gabriel; he was his agents after all.
“Look at your arm, son.”
Jesse is scared to look at first, he can still feel it there, but he panics to what he might find.
When he looks his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. There is a masterpiece on the left part of his chest, going over his shoulder and elbow, but it looks unfinished, as it it had just been cut there. Two blue dragons tangle with one another over clouds and designs that looks like lightning. It’s quite beautiful and something he’s not used to, definitely unlike what he had almost two years before. He feels ashamed of that piece of work now, comparing it to this one. His soulmate had taste.
“Are you aware of soulmates, McCree?” Gabriel asks him, voice going softer.
“Yessir,” he can’t look away from the new addition on his skin. “I used to write to mine, but they never responded much, then stopped completely.” He scoffs and allows his right hand to trace over the lines. “Didn’t try again after that.”
That night he contemplates his arm as much as he can. It truly is something captivating and, after years of ignoring it, he begins to think of his soulmate once more. He pictures them fierce, powerful and brave. Maybe greedy and egotistical, and he laughs.
He searches for a pen and uses his mouth to uncap it. In the blank spot of his arm he writes ‘gorgeous’. And leaves it at that for the night.
H a n z o
Hanzo spends almost twenty minutes looking at the new writing in his arm. It had been such a light feather touch he almost missed it.
Gorgeous
He repeats it to himself in his mind and ponders on responding. He finally decides to look for a pen.
“It’s not finished.”
He goes on about his studies for a short amount of time before he feels it this time. The tingly brush of an invisible pen, creating strokes on his skin. He waits for it to stop, for the period to come, but it doesn’t. After a minute of not feeling anything, he looks.
Let me know darlin yer killin me
His brows arch to such grammar and he looks away. It might not be a formal letter they are writing, but the person could address his soulmate better. He is bold, Hanzo notes.
“Darling,” Hanzo scoffs to himself in the library and continues without a second thought.
J e s s e
It’ll happen today.
Jesse sees the words appear on his arm, the first one in three weeks since the tattoo appeared on him. He sighs and puts on his uniform to go on the mission he had been assigned two days ago. There is no way Reyes will allow him the day off because his soulmate decided to get a tattoo. He doesn’t even run it by him; he gets on the shuttle, tips his hat to his commander and fly off with the other agents.
He gets as involved as he can on the mission and barely feels the pain. A few hisses and moans escape his mouth and gets him a look from Reyes, who must have figured out what’s happening, but Jesse shakes his head and goes on.
He takes off his uniform quickly once he’s in his room and the first thing he looks at his left arm. The tattoo is done, after hours of itching and burning, it finally looks done and even more beautiful. It even has some lines in gold that shimmer and his fingers caress those spots first. He whistles, this must be someone special to bare these markings.
He wishes to wear a tank top, or even go shirtless everywhere he goes on base, hell, even on missions, to show the masterpiece off. But Reyes won’t allow him. Doesn’t matter if it’s not his own tattoo, it’s against regulation and he’s already on thin ice with McCree being in Blackwatch.
It puts him quite blue when he sees other agents sporting their temporary marks on their skin. But when he’s showering or in the bedroom by himself, when he can look at the special painting on his skin, he smiles until his face hurts, knowing it will still be there when he wakes up.
Jesse wakes up in a hospital bed two days later. His head throbs and his brain spins inside his skull. He starts gaining consciousness slowly, including the pain that increases over his body. The room is too white for his eyes to hold open for long, making them close again. His body feels like bullets rained on him and thunder broke a piece of him.
“Jesse?” A sweet voice rings in his ears and a delicate face comes to view. “Take it easy.”
“Doc,” Jesse mumbles, he starts to recognize the wise face.
“Do you know who I am?” She asks, short black hair around her head and hazel eyes scanning his face.
“Doc. Zuali Pond,” he says with a hoarse voice and licks his chapped lips. Doctor Pond smiles and nods.
“You haven’t lost your memory, it seems, nor your charm.” She writes something on a clipboard. “Who’s your commander?”
“That’ll be Jefe Gabriel Reyes,” he says the full name in Spanish with the same smile.
“Alright, just double checking.” She finishes writing and lowers the clipboard to look at him; her smiles fades. “You were in an accident, Jesse. We… we thought we lost you.”
“Well, tell Reyes not to celebrate yet, I’m still alive n’ kickin’.”
“Do you ever shut up?” The new voice startles him, but his body relaxes again when he sees Gabriel at the door, arms crossed, always carrying that wall.
“Sorry, boss,” Jesse mumbles and Gabriel sighs.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Jesse,” it’s a tone Gabriel barely uses on him, and when he does, it makes Jesse feel at home and at peace. “But know that,” Gabriel stops and looks at Zuali, making Jesse face her as well.
“I’m afraid to tell you, Jesse, but you lost your left arm. We had to take this decision while you were unconscious. I’m sorry.”
Now it becomes clear why Jesse paid no attention to it at first. Starting with waking up, the new surrounding and light pain, then with the idea that he’s so used to having all of his limbs, he doesn’t know what it feels like to not have one.
He faces the damage and finds his arm missing from his elbow down. The rest that still hangs from his shoulder is wrapped in bandages. He follows the white fabric until his eyes trace the tattoo. It no longer shines. It’s scarred and damaged in many places, even the ink looks faded, but he hopes it’s because he’s in need of a shower.
He almost cries when he’s out of the bathroom and sees the tattoo has indeed lost color. He prays that this is just on his side and that his soulmate is well and felt nothing of what he felt.
Months pass until he’s well again and comfortable enough to shoot. He’s back to himself after a rocky path he rather never mention. The only witness to this was Reyes, who found him numerous times drunk in his room or on the roofs of the base. Doctor Pond and her eager intern, Angela Ziegler, are the other two who checked on him frequently, but never spoke about it with him. But unlike, Reyes, Zuali and Angela treated him like broken glass and he hated that. He preferred Reyes’ approach, he would let him drink or smoke as they talked. He allowed him to relax and then treat him like another agent. He would let him pick up guns and practice until he was tired. He would throw sparring partners at him and made him do drills. At first, Jesse was bothered by this, but he grew to like it.
This was his first mission back and he wanted to prove to everyone he was the same sharpshooter, the same agent Reyes saw potential in and wasn’t going to let him down.
H a n z o
He still wonders how Genji gets him to come to such things as carnivals and fairs, and involves him in childish games like ring toss and allowing someone to draw them cartoon style. What he thinks about more is why those drawing end up pinned in the back of Hanzo’s closet along with photos of the two sharing these moments, but that is something Genji will never see.
Genji already has a stuffed pachimari and a dog after half an hour in the fair and he’s eyeing a big dragon that’s on display at a shooting game.
“Hanzo!” He calls to his brother, pulling at the long sleeve of his shirt and Hanzo tries not to encourage his behaviour with a laugh.
“Get it yourself, Genji.”
“You’re better at long range than me, and you know it. You just want to watch me fail.”
“Maybe,” Hanzo scoffs as he hands the man behind the counter a token and picks up the toy gun.
The targets start to move, the ones with the ‘50’ written on them go faster and Hanzo knows he needs to shoot all 5 of them to get the dragon. Three stop and he’s on the fourth, aim directly at the target, when a little kid runs by them, pushing him out of the way just as Hanzo pulls the trigger.
He misses and curses, but goes back to it. He hits the target, but he’s out of bullets.
“This is a waste,” Hanzo recalls as he sets the gun down.
“I want a try at it, partner,” a foreign voice appears by his side and guy hands in his own token.
Hanzo has a look at the young man beside him and he smirks to mock him. A full cowboy, taken right out a western movie, stands beside him, with a fake gun in hand and aiming like he’s in a shootout. He crosses his arms and allows himself to look at the targets, see him fail after wearing such facade. Genji on the other hand is smiling and actually enjoying the company.
Hanzo’s eyes widen when five shots ring on the targets and a bell rings. The cowboy places the gun down and winks at both Shimada brothers as he tips his hat.
“If yer gunna dress the part, you better act the part.” He says before eying the prizes. “That dragon looks mighty fine.”
Genji’s smile falls as he watches the man taking down the dragon and handing it to the american. Hanzo is the first to walk away and Genji follows. Hanzo thinks he’s deep enough in the crowd until the voice calls again.
“Wait up!”
He feels Genji stopping behind him and he does the same, but steps in front of his younger brother by habit.
“What do you want?” Hanzo asks firmly and with sharp eyes.
Jesse shifts the stuffed dragon between his hands, “I saw you two eyeing this. I couldn’t stand the disappointed look in such pretty faces.”
The comment takes Hanzo by surprise and he’s sure the stranger catches a glimpse of it before he stiffens again. Genji is smiling again and blushing, and his eyes turn devilish. Hanzo knows Genji sees the american as a possible new toy.
“So, here,” he pushes the dragon into Hanzo’s hands, whose eyes widen once more.
The cowboy doesn’t let go until Hanzo’s hands are on it and his fingers brush against metal, that’s when he spots the prosthetic hand and now finds the man fascinating and intriguing.
“You shouldn’t have gone out of your way for this.” Hanzo looks away and the cowboy laughs.
“It’s no problem, sweetheart. Just wanted to brighten yer day.”
“Seems like you have,” Genji says with a wicked tone and he looks at Hanzo, at how his brother blushes under the cowboy’s eyes.
“Thank you,” Hanzo says sharply and pushes the dragon into Genji’s hands, who grabs it quickly before Hanzo lets it fall. “We must be going now.” Hanzo turns without another word while Genji examines the cowboy once more.
“Genji”
“Jesse,” he tips his hat once more.
“See you around cowboy,” Genji says before turning.
“Hope so.”
J e s s e
Jesse watches them leave and get lost in the crowd. Even as he walks away, he can still picture those sharp eyes on him and his skin shivering. He smiles the whole way to the hotel where he’s staying and enters the room. Reyes is on the couch with his tablet in hand, scrolling through some information on his targets.
“How did it go?” Gabriel asks.
“Great,” Jesse says before collapsing on the bed. “One of them likes me, the other not so much.”
“I’m guessing the younger one finds you amusing.”
“Genji. He’s a delight.”
Gabriels hums in thought and stands to go to Jesse. “Remember, we can’t make friends and, for the love of God, Jesse, don’t you dare fuck one of them or Mr. Shimada will have both our heads on a stick. And that’s the least he could do.”
“Jefe, please, I’ll be professional. They’re two pretty, young things, but I want to get back home alive. Nothing’s gonna change that.” Jesse gets on his feet and grabs a small bucket from the counter of the kitchenet, “gun’ get ice.”
R e y e s
Jesse leaves the room and Gabriel remains watching the door for a few seconds before he sighs and looks down at his tablet. He has Hanzo Shimada’s profile open and a picture he put there on purpose. One where he’s wearing a traditional kimono, taken at a ceremony. He looks regal, even older, too cold hearted and almost like a statue made out of stone. He chose that picture for Jesse, to make him less appealing as possible. And even then, he had the ideal daddy’s boy trope all over.
He swipes the photo and a different one comes to view, a candid taken at a gym, a very recent one. Hanzo’s hair is up in a bun, but still messy and some locks have fallen out, and he’s wearing a black tank top, clinging to his skin by sweat. The tattoo of two blue dragons shine against his fair skin. They contrast too much to allow Jesse to see this photo; even if it were in black and white, he would recognize it.
He probably made a mistake by bringing Jesse to this mission, but he wanted to prove himself. And this would be a big test to pass. He won’t have Jesse doing any dirty work after all; he just needs to get closer to the Shimada sons, let them trust Jesse and maybe find a way into their business. Once he got what he needed, Jesse will be out of Japan before things get ugly.
He just hopes Jesse never sees the painting on Hanzo, for their sake and Jesse’s heart.