The boys proved to be reckless. Often taking unnecessary risks to prove they were something worth holding onto, not that their worth to the covert operations organization was ever in doubt.
Hanzo took to duel-wielding short blades. Slender and small as he was at the start, it put him in twice as much danger as the other agents when Reyes was eventually forced to put him in the field. What was strange about it was the young teen seemed to regard the practice with some disdain, grimacing visibly at the blood stains on his blades and gi. Out of curiosity, Reyes suggested to McCree that he challenge the former Shimada heir to a weapon's challenge, just to get a feel for what Hanzo was capable of when he wasn't handicapping himself with a combat style he was pretty clearly uncomfortable with.
Lithe and quick as a shot, the boy would have been incredible at sniping - if he weren't quite so bull-headed.
And the results were more than he could have hoped for. Though aching from his last mission, the Shimada scion took to the bow like a fledgling falcon taking to the sky. His sharp, hard-cut features softened as his arrows hit their marks with increasing accuracy and speed, while McCree did a fine job of multitasking - keeping pace with his shots while also gawking at the competition.
Afterwards, Hanzo gathered the arrows, placed them neatly in the quiver, then dropped them and the bow back on the rack, not giving the weapon a second glance, though Reyes could tell it strained him to do so. Guessing there was baggage there, he decided to drop it. Unless it became a problem, it wasn't up to him to force these kids into doing anything else they didn't want to do.
With all that he'd been through, it was a miracle former heir had a heart left in him at all. That either of them did, really.
After their initial acceptance into the Blackwatch ranks, the pair were forced, like most rookies were, to share lodgings. It went from a nightmare to adorable in about a month when the constant sniping and bickering, with one or both often falling back on their native language to convey the true depths of their frustration, eventually subsided into good-natured teasing and rivalry. They pushed each other to improve without cutting each other down, providing something solid for the other to stand on when the desperate ache for a home that no longer existed for them became nearly too much to bear.
And if Reyes caught them sharing beds once or twice, curled up together like a couple restless puppies after a close call or the total disaster brand of mission that would bring even older, more seasoned agents to their knees, then he wasn't about to mention it. On those days, he quietly shut the door.
Slowly, and yet so swiftly that barely any of them realized what was happening, and through more hospital visits and reprimands that Reyes cared to admit, as well as a boatload more patience, the four of them started to feel like a family.
That all changed on the fifth anniversary of their indoctrination into Blackwatch.
Sprawled out on his cot, with his arms folded behind his head, McCree had decided about fifteen minutes prior that he was far too comfortable to go to breakfast. As any red-blooded young American cowboy would, he had his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his brow to shield his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window, and his boots crossed and propped up on the side of the wardrobe fitted against the end of his top bunk. All that was missing was a sprig of straw and he'd be set to take his rightful place as a charismatic near-do-well in a spaghetti western.
If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the tumbleweeds rolling past-
"Hey Jesse," came an amused-sounding greeting from the bottom bunk, and Jesse, despite lying down, jumped a good foot, getting altitude from nothing more than the startled jerk of his entire body. Clutching his chest, a piteous whining escaped his throat while the rest of him struggled to slow the beating of his racing heart.
The hearty chuckling from below was more than enough of a clue to figure out the culprit, though Jesse had admittedly caught on the instant he'd heard their voice. He peered over the railing to see Hanzo grinning up at him, his scaly ears cocked to the side, fangs peeking out from under his top lip.
"My," the raven-haired teen in the blue practice gi said, his silky tones dripping with false sincerity, "I didn't scare you, did I?"
McCree tossed a pillow at him, grumbling,"I could have sworn I'd asked Torbjourn to install an alarm on that window." Somewhat insultingly, Hanzo didn't even bother to dodge it, only grinning wider when it bounced harmlessly off his face. This had the unsettling effect of showing off his teeth, or it would have been were McCree not already used to seeing them. It was something he prided himself on, actually. Very few on base could get the Shimada heir to smile with his teeth the way he could. He winked. "You know, to keep the lizards out."
Clambering out of the bottom bunk that was now too small for him - Reyes had given his own room for a reason - Hanzo flicked a few strands of hair off his forehead before effortlessly tying them back into a ponytail that touched the midpoint of his back. Once satisfied, he idled over to the window, drawing Jesse's attention to the sparking and warped lock mechanism on the sill.
"I disabled it." And as much as he tried to play it cool, it was easy to see Hanzo was proud of the twisted bit of fried metal his dragons had made of it. It'd taken hours upon hours of working with the ancestral beasts for Hanzo to learn how best to harness their destructive power in smaller, more surreptitious ways, as befitted a Blackwatch agent specializing in stealth and covert operations.
Not too keen on bursting his bubble, McCree let out a low, appreciative whistle. "So ya did." And it really was a neat trick, though it would be nice if Hanzo tried using his powers for good for a change, and not for shaving years off the life of his partner. "You know I'm already geriatric in dog years, don't ya?" A softly huffed laugh was all he got in response while Hanzo worked on sliding open the window. "Say," he paused when McCree spoke again, however, waiting for him to finish the thought with one leg already standing on the grass, "was there a point to this here impromptu visit or...?"
Hanzo frowned imperiously, as though the reason for the unsolicited wake up call should have been obvious. "You're missing breakfast," he said curtly. Then he ducked out, quiet and unobtrusive as a light breeze. In daylight, however, the spiraling ram-like horns atop his head tended to draw unwanted attention no matter how innocuous he attempted to be. For their first Blackwatch anniversary, Reyes had gotten the pair of them their own personalized hoodies and beanies. It wasn't a fix, but it at least meant they could walk off the premises without worrying about drawing a crowd.
The freaky criminal kids, that was them. But nothing brings people closer than being feared and isolated together.
At first, it had just been simple curiosity - Who was this kid with weird mutations like his?
Then it was fear. The fear that this kid who tugged at his horns and scraped at his scales would disappear and leave him behind. And through it all, so gradually or quickly not even McCree knew for sure, he started to think of Hanzo as a something more than a fellow reluctant participant in their commander's ridiculous bid for youth rehabilitation.
Thick or thin, rain, sleet, snow - they were in this together.
"Hey," he called after the ninja's retreating figure, "wait up!" And scrambled to collect his serape, then lumbered over the window sill after him, banging his head on the frame in his rush.
And, as always, Hanzo waited for him to come jogging up alongside him, before setting off for the dining hall that would make even marathon runners beg for mercy.
"Good morning, boys," Reyes greeted when they stepped through the entrance. His gaze fell on Jesse, who had his hands on his knees, wheezing. "Just get back from taking Jesse out on his morning run?"
"Yes," replied Hanzo before Jesse muster the breath to snap a retort.
"Hey!"
Accustomed to tuning out their banter, Morrison poked at a tray full of sodden scrambled eggs, the last of the batch since Reyes had opted to let him sleep in that morning, which was why he was currently sporting a sweatshirt, grey sweatpants with the Overwatch logo, and a scowl. Hanzo slipped soundlessly into the space beside him, inquiring as to who was scheduled that week to cook.
Morrison took a sip of his coffee. "Torbjourn." He grimaced.
"Ah." Hanzo nodded sagely, glancing towards the sounds of pans clanging in the kitchen. "Then I will starve."
Sidling in next to Reyes, who surreptitiously shielded his pudding, McCree said with a hearty laugh, "Yeah, I imagine he's still a bit sour after ya short-circuited all the electronics in his workshop."
"That was years ago. I did not appreciate his… humor."
A twinkle in his eyes, Jesse leaned over the table conspiratorially. "Ol' Torbjourn went and asked him if he'd cursed any princesses, lately."
"It was not amusing."
"I kind of thought it was." When Hanzo shot him a glare, Jesse demurred, "Just a little."
Reyes, having decided he wasn't hungry after all, tossed the pudding to McCree. He caught it without thinking, his ears perking up upon identifying the treat. The rest Reyes took with him to be deposited at the kitchen counter. On the way, he intoned, "He's not going to poison you, Shimada."
And out came Torbjourn, his apron stained with milk, oatmeal, and uncooked egg batter. "Did someone mention poison? Now, why on earth would I go and do a thing like that? It'd cost me my cooking privileges, it would." A wide grin spread across his face upon seeing Hanzo's dismay, reaching his ruddy cheeks. "Hey, Shimada!" The ninja started. "Catch!" And automatically reached to catch the projectile. He registered it was solid and firm, glanced down to see a ruby red apple glistening between his palms, then devoured half the fruit in a single bite, core and all.
Impressed, Torbjourn whistled. "Yer no princess, that's for sure." Gesturing to the twisted horns sitting on his crown, Hanzo bared his fangs in a humorless grin.
The blacksmith frowned.
And just when Reyes had returned from dropping off his tray, when McCree had opened his mouth to speak, looking troubled, when Morrison had drained the last drop of his coffee, the intruder alert sounded, a flashing red siren that threw the base into chaos.
"Gear up," Reyes ordered, flicking the safety off the rifles holstered around his waist while Morrison wordlessly did the same with his blasters and flicked on his visor. By the time Torbjourn had retreated into the kitchen to retrieve his rivet gun and forge hammer, Hanzo had already dashed out of the hall, his katanas unsheathed and gleaming in the morning light. McCree following shortly after, Peacekeeper in his grip. There was no telling how many enemies there might be or where they could be hiding, and as Reyes had taught him - drilled into him, really - one could never be too careful when it came to saving your own hide.
Whether or not the lesson took was debatable, but for now, McCree decided he was better at protecting the other Blackwatch agents and having Hanzo's back if he were breathing.
Not that Hanzo wasn't a doing a fine job of holding his own, Jesse couldn't help thinking as he watched the Shimada cut down one intruder after the next in the courtyard. They were dressed into loose-fitting black garments that concealed their identities, though the dragon sigil emblazoned their backs still gave away their origin.
Hanzo grit his teeth, readjusting his stance in the stones bordering the path to compensate for three combatants while Jesse lined up a shot to take out the ninja readying shuriken on the overhang. Most of them seemed to be making a bee-line for Hanzo, which reaffirmed McCree's personal belief that if it weren't for being found and adopted by Blackwatch, neither of them would still be alive.
Pushing out a breath through his teeth, McCree pulled the trigger. The ninja jerked backwards, clutching their chest, then plummeted from their perch without ever uttering a sound. None of their comrades even turned to look, but Jesse did. He always tried to watch the last moments of the people he killed, if he could help it. Call it a courtesy.
Shouts erupted from the main hall, and Hanzo twisted his head to watch an agent stumbled outside with shuriken embedded in his back, pawing blindly at the bladed weapons before falling over onto the concrete and failing to rise. Lips rippling in a snarl, Hanzo disengaged from the stalemate he'd been locked in, leaping over the heads of his adversaries to dash towards the commotion within the building, leaving the clean-up to McCree.
As the ninjas took to the shadows, vanishing from sight, he sniffed the air, catching their scents on the wind, then gave a big, toothy smile.
"Bang."
A/N: Hello! If you're reading this, hope you're having a great December
