Author's notes: So, I told ya you wouldn't have to wait that much for a new chapter, didn't I? This, in spite of being labeled as the third act of this tale, is a continuation of the previous chapter. Remember when I told you I had to split that one in two because it was getting significantly longer than expected? Well, here's the other half of it and it's even longer than the previous half!
Moving on, here are the replies to your comments. Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following and adding this story to your favorites!
Love, L.
Guest: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I agree with you, Widowhanzo needs more love!
Dragunz: It will not go smoothly, that's for sure. Both of them still have quite a long way to go in their respective paths to redemption, and I can see things are not going to be easy for them.
About the NSFW content, it refers purely to sexual situations for this fic. Mostly because any other scenario I can think of from the top of my head right now (non-con, suicide, etc) won't be part of this story firstly because I don't feel comfortable writing that kind of material and second because that sort of content does not meet the plot I have in mind for this story. Now, this particular chapter does contain a sex scene but I'm quite positive it's the most implicit sex scene I've ever written. But rest assured, I'll let you know each chapter. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!
Yusuka09: Thank you so much!
Guest: The love triangle comes from a previous fic of mine (Business) – even if the current set of dynamics for the three of them are not established in that fic because it's pre-recall and Jesse and Angela were not together at that time (according to that fic) it originates right there. I'll be exploring the bond uniting them in upcoming installments.
Jack is not that bad and he had his reasons. I just needed a catalyst to get the action going and I thought he could help her reminisce her past in a not-so-pleasant sort of way. Next chapter they will have a moment of understanding – but that's all I'm saying for now. Thank you!
staringatstars07: I'm so ashamed. I am. Because I read every single update of yours but I could never find the time to review so now I have to sit and read everything again (husband's surgery + many, many visits to the doctor = bad combo) so now you can expect a waterfall of long overdue reviews any time this week.
I loved that you pointed out that I'm keeping her out of the loop because that's exactly what I've been doing. She's been getting all these mixed feelings and emotions after such a long time that I thought I could grant her that selfishness. Of course she's looking at Jack through a filter and, to be honest, I believe he's looking at her through a filter as well. Both of them are still heavily anchored to their pasts so it'll be a challenge to make them see eye to eye when it comes to certain things. Thank you so much for your lovely words!
Variations on a Theme
Act III
The Girl From The Ramen Shop
"That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories."
Haruki Murakami ― 1Q84
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I – An Invitation
Morning light found their bodies still together in his bed. Their shapes calmly receiving the whispers of a brand new day, warm bedsheets covering their skins. She woke up first. Turned around and looked over her shoulder just to contemplate the archer's quiet expression as he slept. It still amazed her how peaceful he could look during such moments – like a fragile being, only she knew that he wasn't. He was many things, of that she was sure… and yet his fragility was still a mirage that could confuse her, but not blind her from the truth: inside that man was a restless soul, a ferocious beast waiting for the final rapture.
As she smiled tenderly at herself, the sleepy sniper made a mental note not to forget about that fact, and to not get confused by such crystalline illusions of him; to acknowledge the ancestral beast forever dwelling inside the man.
Just like she had done the day before, she slowly got out of his bed and took a quick shower. Then she exited the small bathroom, her body wrapped up in a white towel. Still asleep, the archer hadn't moved an inch during her absence. She sat down on the edge of his bed, peeling off the towel and discarding it quickly on the ground as it pooled around her ankles, then proceeded to put on her underwear – one more look over her shoulder was enough for the woman to refrain from putting on the rest of her training attire. Folding her legs together and making her way underneath the bedsheets once more, Amelie indulged herself in the warm calmness of a brand new morning by his side. Lying face to face now, the Frenchwoman traced the outline of his cheekbones with her fingertips, trying to imagine whatever dreams he was having. It made her envious, albeit in a positive way, to know that he was able to sleep like a child without having his dreams plagued by endless nightmares.
At least, so it seemed.
She felt his hands reach for her waist and pull her closer to his chest. Without opening his eyes, the Japanese archer buried his face in the small space between her neck and her shoulder – but only for a brief instant. As droplets of water fell from her still wet hair and tickled the tip of his nose, the former crime lord stretched his arms and yawned, confused by the uncanny sensation.
She smiled and laughed quietly to herself as she turned around in bed, her wet hair now greeting his entire face and forcing him to wake up.
"Amelie?" Hanzo mumbled groggily, still too sleepy to grace his voice with his usually stern tone. Then he shook his head and allowed his forehead to find her back, and there he stayed, his hands now holding tight to her stomach. "Five more minutes."
"Alright," she said, closing her eyes.
"Make it ten, then."
Their schedules were almost empty for that day – besides a single training session later, during the afternoon, they would be pretty much left to their own devices for the rest of the day. Just as Amelie was beginning to feel the warm pressure of his calloused hands rubbing gently against her stomach, the peaceful scene they were sharing got interrupted as soon as Genji stepped inside Hanzo's room without even knocking on his older brother's door.
Hanzo let go of Amelie almost immediately when he saw his brother approaching them then sat up on his bed, stretching the bedsheets as far as his arms could reach in order to cover the Frenchwoman's body. Disapproval written all over his face, the older Shimada questioned his brother with a silent, scornful look as he felt Amelie's legs moving under the sheets, much like as if she was trying to cover her whole existence with them.
"Father taught us manners. We used to knock." Hanzo spat disdainfully, his hands traveling rapidly across the bed to make sure his younger brother could not see Amelie in anything but her underwear.
"Hanzo," Genji began, casually, "Nothing I haven't seen before – and talking about manners, when we were young and you would be the one entering my bedroom without knocking, at least I would always ask you if you wanted to join."
The older Shimada breathed hard through parted lips. The insufferable brat he had known a lifetime ago seemed to be alive and kicking inside his younger brother's indefatigable spirit. Annoying and brash, as usually, he would always find a way to make him feel uncomfortable.
"Not that you ever said yes to any of my invitations but even so, I always knew I had to ask." The cyborg ninja went on, as he approached the bed at such a steady pace, "Was the least I could do for my favorite brother, besides… you're right, father taught us some pretty good manners."
Hanzo grunted angrily, almost on the verge of feeling offended by his brother's cynical words.
"Don't feel threatened by me now, brother. I'm not that man anymore." Genji assured, his hands in the air. "Besides, you and I have had our differences in the past, and we have fought over many things. A woman, never."
Kicking the archer gently on his nearest ankle, Amelie finally opened her eyes, understanding it was pointless to pretend to be asleep for much longer. She sat up in bed as well, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Oh, Amelie," Genji greeted her, "I went to your room but you weren't there – I figured you'd be here again today."
"What do you want, Genji?" A nearly exasperated Hanzo asked, "It's early."
"Worry not, brother," Genji chuckled, "you might as well go back to sleep. I only wanted to see Amelie."
Surprised, the woman scratched her chin and offered the newcomer a puzzled expression:
"What can I do for you, Genji?" she asked, still wrapped up in the same awkward feeling she had experienced the night before, during their brief encounter in the kitchen: the complete impossibility to tell if Hanzo's brother was being friendly or not.
"Jesse told me you two talked last night, and he said you made him feel at ease with himself. If I had to be honest, that's the same feeling I got when we talked last night." He sounded genuine, she thought, "Today is Tuesday and, like every other Tuesday night, the three of us get together and have a few drinks after dinner. We thought, as a token of our appreciation, it would be nice to have you joining us tonight."
Amelie opened her mouth but before any words could reach the outside, Genji went on:
"You know this is a particularly hard time for us, for the three of us – especially for Angela. And I also know that you feel responsible for what happened with Jack…"
"About that," Amelie interrupted him, "is Angela okay with this? Both Jesse and you told me she's having such a hard time processing the news about Jack being alive… I don't know if she'll feel comfortable around me."
"I told you – it was not your fault." Hanzo tried to reassure her, patting her shoulder gently as he spoke.
"Angela is okay, Amelie. She understands." Genji said. "So, tonight, after dinner. What do you say?"
"I say it's an invitation." The woman answered softly as Genji nodded in silence. "I'll be there."
Just as the younger Shimada was beginning to leave, Amelie's soft voice made him stop and turn around one last time.
"What about inviting your brother too, Genji?" she asked, timidly, "Thought I heard you say you always invited him, in case he wanted to join."
"Not this time," the ninja said on his way out, "He might actually say yes."
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II – Friendly Fire
"So, what did he mean when he said nothing I haven't seen before?" She asked as she balanced one of her brand new venom mines in her hand. The texture of the petite purple glass sphere seemed smoother than the spiders that Talon had given her while she was still Widowmaker. Angela had supervised the development of the brand new toxin – unlike its deadly predecessor, this venom was meant to simply paralyze the targets for a little less than two minutes and, with a little help from Torbjörn, once the venom had begun to work its magic, Amelie could be able to see them, just like immobilized and static targets on her visor.
The quiet hours of the afternoon were humid and warm. The bright, pink hues painting the sky were only interrupted by a few small clouds rolling their way towards the bay – anticipating sunset, the wind caressed the figureless shapes as they made their way near the shore for both snipers to see the dark core moving inside. Black roared patiently inside the white shapes cruising the sky above, waiting for the rain to come.
Hanzo was already aiming for his chosen target. His sight focused on the distant red dot adorning the silhouette's head. Far from his reach, standing helplessly on a solitary rock only inches away from the shore, the target seemed to be almost peacefully awaiting in its artificial sort of lethargy, for an arrow to come its way.
"I don't know." He said simply, too concentrated to care.
"Come on… did the heir of the Shimada clan bring many girls home back in the day?"
The distraction that was her voice was not enough for the Japanese archer to take his eyes off of his target. His bow already hungry, his mind almost drunk in anticipation.
"What? No." The man replied as he shook his head dismissingly, without even looking at her, "He was the one who would always bring his companions home." Only when the selected arrow had silently traveled the distance and reached its target he finally turned around and said: "At least he did, when he was much younger. The last couple of years he spent with the clan he would always take his business away from the Shimada castle."
Looking through the scope of her sniper rifle, the woman beckoned him to take a closer look as she spoke quietly: "And you were the wallflower, then, when you both were younger? Always interrupting your brother's pleasure?"
"My brother's pleasure knew no interruptions back then."
His muscular arms were wrapped around the scope. The surprising sight startled him: the red mark was still intact. He had missed.
"At least he was polite enough to ask if you wanted to join." Amelie pushed him slightly with her hip. Now it was her turn to hit the tricky mark.
"Quit it," Hanzo warned her harshly as he finally stepped aside, making room for the female sniper to position herself behind the rifle. She winked at him, before embracing the scope.
"Did you ever…?" He heard her say, her voice a mere whisper.
"Did I ever what?" A confused Hanzo asked as he crossed his arms over his chest in a rather despondent fashion.
"Joined."
Unlike his arrow, Amelie's bullet disrupted the peaceful afternoon and hit the mark. Splinters of what used to be the target were soaring now across the pink and orange sky.
He saw her, as she took a step back and smiled triumphantly at him.
"You heard him. Not even once." He seemed somewhat proud of his answer yet his gesture of absolute confidence vanished from his face the second he noticed Amelie's eyes aiming for him with renewed intent. "Wait, why are you looking at me like that? You don't think I'm a forty-year-old virgin, do you?"
She waved her hands dismissingly. Almost laughing at him.
"You're not forty. Not yet." She started to walk, rifle resting now on her shoulder, "And if I recall correctly, you did reject a naked woman in your own bed last night." He followed close behind as the woman motioned her body towards the next target. "An easy prey…"
He stopped at once and got on one knee, his fingers already retrieving an arrow from his quiver.
"If anything, I like to think I was more… discreet." He mumbled, almost to himself.
"Then why would he say something like that? Nothing I haven't seen before?"
Hanzo breathed out, getting tired of the conversation already yet still focused on finding the perfect arrow.
"Can't you see he was talking about you – and just trying to make me feel uncomfortable, like when we were younger?" He remembered, "I think he saw me trying to cover your body with the bedsheets so he said that meaning that I shouldn't worry, that he was already familiar with the shape of a woman in nothing but her underwear."
Hanzo looked up and found her gaze but instead of showing her his increasing discord he found his own cheeks turning warmer and redder than ever before.
"You could have put on a shirt or something before getting inside my bed again." He reprimanded her.
"I was comfortable that way. And you were sleeping – I thought you wouldn't mind because you wouldn't notice."
"I was going to wake up eventually." He finally got up, a scatter arrow between his fingers. Now it was Amelie's turn to fold her arms over her chest.
"Plus, I didn't know Genji would come in without knocking." She said, looking into his eyes, "Besides, it's not like he caught us in the middle of something… we weren't doing anything, you made yourself perfectly clear last night." She took a step back as a darker shade covered her face.
It was just a coincidence – a solitary cloud rolling by in the sky and taking away her light. But only momentarily.
He sighed, absorbed by the eerie eclipse.
"What I said to you last night… It was cruel and completely uncalled for. I apologize." As soon as the words had left his lips the woman moved closer and cupped one of his hands in hers – he realized she felt colder now, somehow. Not as cold as she had felt back then, but colder than the Amelie he had grown so used to during the last couple of months.
"You don't have to – I was confused. The nightmare I was having; you know what I saw that day, with Morrison… I was the one who stepped out of line. Not you."
The distance between them had been reduced to zero. Amelie planted a soft kiss on his forehead as she whispered:
"It's okay, Hanzo. Let it go."
He saw her, as she moved away and began running towards the antenna where the second target had been placed. Then she used her grappling hook to reach the exact location. Unsticking the red mark that had been glued to the head, the woman smiled at him and then descended – the red mark she had retrieved from the target could now be spotted on her training shirt, a few inches above her heart, near her left sleeve.
She stood in front of him and smiled yet the archer offered her a puzzled look in return.
"Hanzo…"
His competitive spirit was finally matched, rivaled by her determination. He shook his head, forcing himself out of the thought.
"Hanzo…"
"No."
He took a step back, clearly annoyed by her idea. It wasn't the first time that Amelie was trying to suggest they played such a dangerous game. If he had to be honest, he knew exactly what was going to happen now: a silent discussion was about to take place, his harsh looks would try their best to convince the woman that that wasn't training, that it was dangerous, unnecessarily dangerous, that even if he understood that those targets were no fun at all, they could find other ways to make the most of their training sessions. She would always tilt her head just a little and offer him a look of complete desolation, as if touched by his solemn determination and unparalleled concern. Most times it would not be enough, though, and she would insist. Yet each time he would convince her, with nothing but silence; that such games were simply not worth their time – and definitely not worth their blood.
It would generally take a few more moments for the French sniper to accept her defeat. But she would never struggle against it – once Hanzo's determination had finally prevailed, she would simply embrace the fact that the Japanese man had won.
Not this time.
The woman rearranged the red mark near her sleeve, then shook her head twice, allowing her long hair to brush her own shoulders. The man watched her silently, as he put away his unused arrow, the quiver already hanging from his shoulder and resting against his back.
"If you don't like Ana's targets, we could try using the firing range instead, we still have twenty minutes to go, you know?" he suggested, knowing a bit too well that Amelie found the immobile targets that Ana was so fond of to be obnoxiously boring.
If he had to be completely honest with himself, he too found the idea of immobile targets to be a tad bit old-fashioned. Ana was old school, he knew that much, still he felt the need of experiencing a far more challenging training. The cowboy had felt that way too, so he had suggested they built a small firing range in Gibraltar, similar to the ones they used to have in many different watchpoints all over the globe back in the day. Training bots weren't the epitome of thrill either, but at least they could move around the range providing a moderate sense of challenge.
Still, the woman refused.
She put her arm around his shoulder, taking a good look at the quiver of arrows resting near his back. Her free hand came to scratch her own chin as she rolled her eyes,
"Just out of curiosity, does your brother still have a penis?"
The way she had said those words, oh so carelessly, almost as if she was talking about something as trivial as the weather, made his cheeks turn a furious red.
"A human penis, that is." She insisted, not really caring about the stupor that was written all over Hanzo's face.
"What?" He was stunned, perplexed.
"Humor me, come on. Tell me."
An elegant hand was sliding now against his back, barely brushing his shoulder blades. He could have sworn she was touching his quiver, but the commotion was blinding him even from the most obvious of truths.
"What?" Hanzo asked again, his voice raspier than before, his throat completely dry.
The woman let go of him and started to walk towards the cliff.
"You know, with his cybernetic enhancements and the parts you mutilated…" she was moving with such poise now, and the sultry tone of her voice was clearly fighting a laugh.
"I never touched his…" He knew what she was trying to do: she was trying to elicit a reaction from him, a blinding chain reaction that would force him to play her game – and sadly, it was working. "How can you even suggest I could do something like that?"
She used her grappling hook to travel the distance and positioned herself on top of the tallest rock, facing the bay. The sunlight was beginning to encompass her whole body, recreating her shape in mere particles of light. It was hard to see her – the confusing rapture of light was toying with his vision and they both knew: a sniper who cannot see becomes utterly useless.
"You killed him – that's even worse."
Her voice in the distance was reaching out to him and calling out the beast resting inside. Even when he knew she didn't mean it he could feel the thunder beginning to stir inside his core. A poorly concealed half-smile adorned his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes: he was older, wiser…. Yet he was caught in the spider's web all the same.
"Precisely. I was trying to kill him, what was the point in emasculating him?" His fingers were already reaching for his quiver. "Dead people don't need penises."
"Maybe some old Yakuza ritual? Like a souvenir or a trinket?"
Hanzo lowered his head, surrendering to her strategies. She clearly knew him a little too well; knew what to say, and when to say it.
"I can't believe it. I refuse to believe we're talking about Genji's penis." His voice was softer now yet his fingers had already found what they were looking for.
"I think it just seems very unlikely for him to still have his human penis with all those prosthetics." Amelie continued. She had her arms folded over her chest; the nearly unrecognizable being made of light that she had become was facing the waters, still waiting for the archer to make a move.
"I… I don't know. Can we please change the subject?" He readied one of his sonic arrows: he knew he needed to see her clearly, but before he could even take aim with his bow he noticed the small sphere that had been glued to the arrow. Now it was much too late: her poison was only inches away from his nose: he sighed, defeated, as he welcomed the dense cloud enveloping his face. His muscles went stiff, he felt petrified, frozen in place.
Her laughter, coming from the distance, brushed his ears in the most sardonic of ways.
"He didn't tell you? If he still has his… you know… his…?" Amelie knew the toxin couldn't keep him paralyzed forever. As soon as she noticed its effects wearing off, she readied her grappling hook again but before she could fly over the nearest building, the archer made his move. The tingling sensation had finally abandoned his fingers; the arrow cruised in a perfectly straight trajectory, piercing Amelie's training shirt in the process. The woman stumbled on the rock and whimpered as soon as she noticed the sonic arrow now resting idly above her hip – he had been careful enough not to hurt her, in fact, he hadn't even touched her – yet the arrow was still there, embedded in her clothes and making her visible for him. The eclipse of light she had procured for herself was no more. If anything, she had become a bright red silhouette for the master marksman.
"No, he didn't. And before you ask: no, I didn't ask him either." Hanzo finally spoke, proudly.
"Why not?" She mumbled, mildly entertained. Her fingers were already busy, trying to remove the arrow but then she gave up on her effort and simply ripped that part of her shirt off.
"Cause it's none of my business." He retorted, watching carefully and paying attention to her every move. She was swinging from one rooftop to the other, visibly trying to find the perfect spot for her sniper rifle to reciprocate his daring advance.
"But what do you think? If you had to guess…" Her voice was still soft, but he couldn't tell if she was near or far so he looked over his shoulder, trying to find her.
"I don't know. How could I know? I haven't seen him fully naked since we were little children."
There she was – below the antenna facing the cliff, hidden by the stairs.
"I see…" She whispered, the shape of his body already clear in her scope; his shoulders defined – his treacherous arms, even if seemingly innocuous, getting ready - "But doesn't it make you curious?"
Hanzo looked for another sonic arrow in his quiver but chose to go for a scatter arrow instead – he didn't have to learn her exact location, he already knew where she was: it would be just a warning sign for her.
"No, it doesn't. It doesn't in the slightest."
Spreading its blue in all directions, she saw the arrows raining all around her and embraced the scope more tightly. She grinned to herself, confident: "Cause now he's with Angela, and she was the one in charge of his recovery. Sure Torbjörn helped in designing his new body but she was the one commanding the whole thing."
"Don't even say it."
He was pulling the string closely to his chest; the new arrow seemed eager to reach its target. It soared rapidly, aiming for her rifle – but only briefly.
Her bullet shattered his arrow mid-air.
Then she finally broke her cover, hands at the sides of her waist and a satisfied, triumphant smile plastered across her face: "Maybe she liked him a little too much back then, so she built something special for him, or for them, I don't know anymore…"
His dark eyes welcomed her – yet the coldness in his stare was revealing the turmoil still aching inside: "Perhaps she even made it so that one of the cowboy's robotic fingers is secretly a vibrator." He spat disdainfully, and even if his commentary was worth a laugh not a single muscle in his face seemed to be able to move. "Why don't you ask them tonight, if you're so curious about it?"
He turned around and began to walk away.
"Haha, how funny…" she laughed, trying to win his attention back.
Nothing.
"Where are you going?" The woman yelled, frustration written all over her pale face. "It was just a joke."
He didn't stop.
"Time's up, Amelie. I'm heading back inside."
Her hands were still placed on the sides of her waist but her victorious poise was nowhere to be found now.
A small sigh was followed by a deep breath.
"It's not over just because you say it's over." She yelled again, his body becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.
"Then why does it have to be on just because you say it's on?" His voice, harsh but soft at the same time, brushed her ears as he walked on by, "For once, I would really appreciate some reciprocity."
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III – Pohs Nemar Eht Morf Lrig Eht
The snipers' table wasn't as chatty as it had been, some weeks ago. It was missing one component: Ana, the oldest member of the group, and while her stories and anecdotes were missed by both Hanzo and Amelie, truth was the air between them was still so tense and awkward after the events of the last training session that they both knew, deep down, that even the most hilarious tale wouldn't be enough to help them relax. It was as if both snipers had felt the need to embrace the tension and discord still wrapped around every other soul in Gibraltar; their thoughtless interactions had done that much for them, making them match the colorless scenes taking place around every table.
Even the younger members of Overwatch seemed distressed, somehow.
Ana, struggling against everyone and everything, was the only one sharing a table with the now infamous Jack Morrison.
The ones in the middle had chosen silence.
It seemed healthier, somehow, to just remain quiet and simply try to move on.
When Angela and the cowboy beckoned the Frenchwoman to come join them at their table, she simply refused by waving her hand: even if Genji was nowhere to be found she knew better than to leave Hanzo all alone, especially after the tough afternoon she had procured just for him. The cowboy smiled tenderly, understanding her situation, then raised his artificial hand to indicate the woman that they would be waiting for her outside the kitchen, once dinner was over.
Only when they left the room they found the missing Shimada, waiting for them outside, with several unopened bottles of beer resting on the floor. The ritual had begun and Amelie, finally fitting in, felt the burden on her shoulders starting to feel lighter and lighter.
Yet the burden returned in a mere couple of seconds, as soon as she observed the chain of kisses taking place right before her eyes: Angela and Genji, Angela and Jesse and finally Jesse and Genji. She soon found herself taking a few steps backward, taken aback by their unrestricted affection, but even when she moved without even realizing it, the three lovers turned around and looked over their shoulders, confused.
"I don't really get it," Amelie let out, softly and visibly ashamed of herself and the million questions plaguing her head.
"You don't understand how this works?" McCree asked, signaling her to move closer to them.
"Not exactly that…" she said as she walked slowly, moving towards them now, "You two were friends during your time in Blackwatch, right?"
Both males nodded instantly.
"And Angela was Jesse's girlfriend back then?" Amelie tilted her head, looking confused by her own deductions, "But not Genji's?"
The younger Shimada and McCree repeated their previous gesture only this time it was more vigorous and resolute than before.
"And there was another time… when she was Genji's girlfriend, but not Jesse's?" The fear of making them feel uncomfortable was making her voice weak.
This time, it was the doctor the one who nodded her head.
"But what about the time you two spent together in Blackwatch when you were younger? Did something happen between the two of you back then? Did you like each other?"
"No." The cowboy answered.
"You ask too many questions," Genji spoke as well, folding his arms over his chest and causing Angela to cover her face with her hands as an attempt to fight back the laughter.
"But what if Angela wasn't involved?" Amelie asked, her voice a shy whisper now, "Do you think the two of you would be together?"
The doctor laughed out loud, patting the French woman on the back ever so gently.
"You know, for someone who likes my brother, you ask way too many questions." He was softer than before, calmer.
"Don't make this about me." Amelie pleaded as she watched the cowboy already leading the way towards the hangar. Genji followed him close behind, leaving the two women alone for a brief moment.
"Well, the three of us know each other pretty well by now so…" As soon as Angela said those words she began sprinting towards her men, leaving Amelie behind as the Frenchwoman observed the trio in silence. McCree spread his red serape on the ground for the ladies to be more comfortable and the four of them sat down in a semi-circle, the bottles of beer taking center stage. It was the cowboy the one in charge of sharing his alcohol; the first bottle traveling from one hand to the other – yet one of the first things that Amelie noted was that Genji, unlike the others around him, was not drinking. Even with his helmet off, the Sparrow was the only one without a drink in his hand and it made her wonder whether he was trying his best to stay sober or if maybe he didn't want her to see the true extent of the physical damage caused by Hanzo.
She thought about it as she let her beer bottle rest between her legs – all things considered, she had never seen him eat or drink. Even the previous night, during their brief encounter in the kitchen, he had offered her the tea he had brewed for Angela instead of simply drinking it himself.
"I'm glad you accepted our invitation, Amelie." The doctor said, brushing her shoulder ever so gently. The sniper grinned tenderly, resting her back against the wall. There was a small gap of silence – a comfortable silence – shared by the two women as the cowboy began to hum an old tune. There was something so soothing about him, she had experienced it the night before and the feeling was still there, persistent and constant, like his simple melodies or the tranquil expression on his face.
When she saw the doctor leaning against the cowboy's broad shoulders she couldn't help but to feel the need to apologize to her – yet Genji's ambivalent moods seemed destined to break the moment of peace they were sharing. He stared at the sniper, eyes cold and tongue sharp as a blade:
"How does it feel to be rejected by someone like Hanzo, Amelie?"
Someone like Hanzo… he had said it so many times already it was hard for the woman not to feel tempted to ask him if he had truly forgiven his older brother.
McCree's tune faded out and Angela shook her head in disbelief:
"You don't have to answer that." The doctor intervened, visibly upset by Genji's rude question but even when her eyes had become as cold as his, he didn't seem intimidated by his girlfriend in the slightest. McCree was the one who spoke next, trying his best to break the weird atmosphere created by the Sparrow:
"I remember going against you a couple times, back when you were still Widowmaker," He paused and grimaced all of a sudden, unsure if talking about her days as a Talon operative was the best topic he could choose in such a moment, "I remember you were cruel – but hot." He felt like punching his own face for even bringing that up – Genji had been cruel and he had only wanted to make their guest feel better… but remembering her days as a sleeper agent seemed a little too much.
Mercy eyed him briefly, almost on the very verge of feeling defeated by both her men.
"You don't have to say anything about that either." She suggested, giving up, yet Amelie's laughter surprised her.
"I get that a lot, actually." Now it was her turn to pat the other woman's shoulder, a genuine smile still curling up her lips. She leaned in closer, as if she was about to share a valuable secret with everyone's favorite doctor: "What they don't know is that that bitch never got any action, if you know what I mean."
"Are you telling us Widowmaker never had sex?" The cowboy's jaw was almost touching his chest.
"Not even once." She was proud of her answer. "I was that detached from humanity." Glancing over at Genji, she noticed the Sparrow lowering his head: according to Hanzo he had been quite the playboy back in the day – now, living his life somewhere in between the warmth of his mutilated humanity and the impersonality and coldness of his robotic enhancements, Amelie was left with no other choice but to acknowledge the fact that she had chosen to explore what could be a touchy subject for him.
Understanding that acting like that was never going to help her make amends with the Sparrow – even when she still could not fully understand why she needed to make amends with him in the first place – Amelie sighed softly and picked up her bottle again. "I actually haven't had sex since Gerard," she confessed, "That's why what I saw in that room made me snap – I'm finding all these feelings I had lost, and I can't seem to fully control them."
She felt their unspoken understanding as she told them the whole story: the lovers, the blood, the nightmares that followed. They weren't judging her – far from it: they all seemed genuinely touched by her honesty.
"But… why Hanzo?" Genji finally asked, pensively.
She had no answer.
"He was never… He doesn't really know how to…" he couldn't find the words to talk about his own brother, or the man he had known a lifetime ago, "You were a married woman, you know how love is supposed to… work. But he doesn't. He just doesn't."
She nodded her head.
"Yesterday you told me that you appreciate the fact that I'm taking my time to sentimentally educate your brother." She remembered, "I'm not sure if that's exactly what I'm doing; I don't even know if such a thing exists."
"It does." Was all the Sparrow could say. "He has always lacked that kind of education. I tried my best to help him back when we were younger – but he never wanted any help."
She stared at him for a moment, but then she looked away and her eyes found the doctor and the cowboy. They didn't seem bored at all by the conversation – in fact, they seemed engaged, interested, as if they were hearing the most fascinating story for the very first time. Thinking it over, it made sense – Hanzo wasn't exactly popular, and he wasn't really interested in making any new friends. Genji, on the other hand, still was rather cryptic when talking about his older brother: the bitter experiences from their shared pasts were still like a veil placed right before his eyes, preventing him from revealing too much.
"Was that what you were trying to say today? When you entered his room and saw us together in bed and you said it was nothing you hadn't seen before?"
Shimada shook his head, a mischievous grin taking over his lacerated face but only briefly.
"Not exactly." The humorous gesture had now disappeared completely from his face. "There's a lot you don't know. And there's a lot he won't tell."
The sniper scratched the back of her neck remembering how flustered Hanzo had looked when she had tried to ask him about his past.
"You know, when I asked your brother about this… we sort of had a little fight."
"I can imagine…" The doctor whispered, fighting a laugh. The cowboy smirked at the remark, trying his best to suppress a smile as well.
"What?" Genji asked the group, his voice louder than before. "You don't think my brother is some kind of forty-year-old virgin, right?"
"Funny enough, he told me that exact same thing." Amelie retorted quickly, "I told him he was not forty. Not yet."
Laughter encompassed the whole group, then. A loud thunder that knew no tension.
"Hanzo is very uptight," Genji explained. "Back when we were younger he would often come inside my room while I was with somebody and I would always ask him if he wanted to join. He never accepted, of course, and if I had to be honest, I never invited him because it was the right thing to do – I just enjoyed that moment when his cheeks would turn bright red and he would snort so loudly… I loved making him feel awkward and uncomfortable around women, it was so easy: same reaction, every single time…. This morning I saw a chance – and I took it."
"And he never said yes…" McCree wondered.
"There was one time when I saw he was on the verge of accepting my invitation. But he chickened out before he had even opened his mouth." He sounded mysterious, or at least he was trying to. Still, his sparkling eyes betrayed him and soon the group understood that he was only seconds away from sharing the whole story.
"Wish I brought my old harmonica…" The cowboy found himself whispering, already lost in anticipation.
"That's not even remotely Japanese, Jesse…" Angela pointed out, smiling tenderly.
"What are you, the culture police?" McCree's laughter dissipated gradually, leaving the small group in silence.
"A few weeks after I turned seventeen, I noticed Hanzo had stopped having lunch with the rest of the family." Genji began, voice low, as if afraid his brother could hear him, "At first I thought they had changed his training schedule but turns out he was never hungry. So one day I asked him why he was eating lunch on his own and he told me that he wasn't: he had been eating at this small ramen shop, just a few blocks away from our home. Every single day, for several weeks…"
McCree lit up a cigar and both the doctor and the Frenchwoman moved their hands around instinctively, trying their best to dissipate the dense clouds of dark smoke emanating from his nostrils.
"At first it was just lunch, but suddenly it was also dinner – and I mean… both my brother and I have always loved ramen, when we were kids we would often joke around and say we loved it so much we could have it every single day of our lives… but he was actually eating ramen every single day, twice a day now and, let's be frank: nobody likes ramen that much."
A small joke, followed by a small collection of quiet smiles – yet they faded rather quickly, and the story went on.
"I was no fool, I could see that something was happening to him – so I followed him one day, and joined him for lunch right there, in the shop." He paused and noted Angela and McCree smiling tenderly at him, as if encouraging him to go on, to open up and let them in. Amelie was lost in thought – still there, but barely registering their moves. Her eyes and her ears had traveled to that shop. "When I saw the girl, I understood everything. He liked her. He really did. She was gorgeous – long, black hair and eyes big and dark like night itself. I don't remember her name, but I do remember she was much, much shorter than us…"
"And you're not exactly tall men, your big brother and you." McCree chimed in.
Angela laughed.
Amelie didn't.
"She was the shop owner's only daughter, so she was always there, working with her father. She was very nice, very, very kind… I decided to join my brother for lunch each day, show my support, even help him if necessary. But as days went on, I realized my brother was a coward. It broke my heart: I knew he was uptight and highly indoctrinated by the clan, but I could have never imagined he was that bad – he wouldn't even talk to her. He would only stare at her, without even smiling, and the worst part was that he didn't even have to order his food because he had been there so many times already that the girl knew exactly what he was going to order way before he could even open his mouth."
Genji paused and took a long breath. He seemed agitated by the retelling of the story, as if he was actually there again, with his brother, sitting side by side in that godforsaken little ramen shop – washed by frustration: the frustration of realizing his brother was not the man he thought he was.
"So one day, after leaving the shop, I decided to give him a little push. I knew he didn't want any help – but I also knew he really liked this girl so perhaps I could do something to make him open his eyes and realize she wouldn't be there forever." He stared at one of the bottles for a while before continuing – then he shook his head pensively, his artificial hands lingering around his knees. "I told him – as bluntly as I could – that I liked her too. That if he wasn't gonna make a move, then I would."
McCree and Mercy stared intently at him.
Amelie didn't.
"I thought he was gonna fight me… I thought he was going to punch me in the stomach or slap me hard across the face, right there in the middle of the street. But he didn't. He just nodded his head… and I was furious. I had never thought he could be such a helpless idiot."
"Did you really like this girl?" The sniper finally spoke.
"She was nice. Not the kind of girl that would usually catch my eye but still, she was fine. But fine for me was perfect for him – and he wasn't even trying to put up a fight to stop me. When he walked on by and left me behind that day I understood my plan had backfired – he was never going to open his eyes, he was never going to try. I cursed him that day, like never before. I told him the most horrendous things – I asked him if it was easier that way because I knew he was already promised to some other girl, someone he didn't like, someone he didn't want to marry. But he was the heir – he was their fucking heir. I told him the clan had lobotomized him. He didn't even look at me, didn't say anything to me… anything at all. He just kept on walking."
When they saw the storm in his eyes they all understood the story of the girl from the ramen shop was the premonition of everything that would eventually happen between the brothers: Hanzo caving in to the plans that the clan had forged for him, and the Sparrow, alone, struggling to get his brother back and failing every single time.
"I was blinded by fury, I wanted to smack him in the head but I knew that wouldn't be enough." Eyes distant and cold, he was reminiscing the beginning of his most futile war: the one he would ultimately lose to his own brother, to the very man he was trying to help. "So I ended up making a move myself."
There were many nights from his youth that time had erased from his memory. The candor and luxuries of such a frivolous life, buried in the confines of his subconscious – the boy he was no more, the man he had never been, both versions of himself blended together in a continuous agora of past mirages. Yet that night, meaningful and meaningless at the same time, decided to stay inside the Sparrow's mind, reminding him of the paradigmatic bond uniting him and separating him from his brother.
He closed his eyes and exhaled quietly before breathing life into the nebula of memories he was about to dust off.
He had returned to the little ramen shop that night, minutes after closing time. A part of him was hoping for his wish not to come true – perhaps the girl had gone home early that night, perhaps her family had a very strict sense of punctuality… but another part of him, the restless predator longing to wake his brother from his slumber, was already rejoicing in anticipation, imagining the girl alone in the restaurant, probably finishing the day's work…
Alone, she was.
She was waiting for some friends to come pick her up, Friday night. Such lovely, lovely lights.
"Does your brother know that you're here?" Was one of the very first things she said to him.
He nodded, the most mischievous grin lighting up his face.
Liar…
He offered her his company, and she accepted, even when her eyes seemed to be pleading for the Sparrow to turn into his own brother – as if magic was real, or as if wishes were about to be granted.
She liked Hanzo. She really did.
Perhaps she thought his intentions were innocuous. Maybe she thought he was as gentle as his brother – but soon the playboy took over, and it was only a matter of time until the shy, nice girl from the ramen shop felt victim of his endless charm. It was so easy for him, always had been - in the end he knew, he was sure of it, she would end up choosing his social skills over those of a cave man.
He took her to a karaoke bar, far from his acquaintances, far from all his so-called friends. The things she had in common with his brother showed up rather sooner than later: for the life of her, and exactly like Hanzo, she couldn't sing.
Still, he thought it was cute.
Cuter, at least, than Hanzo's torturing notes and harmonies – but still, not enough to tantalize his ears.
She asked him about his brother. Not once, not twice, but a hundred times. Is he always so shy? Is he always like this? Is he always…?
He drank until his name became just another name. Yet the question remained.
Is he? Really?
Is…
Does he even exist?
After a couple empty glasses, he tried dancing. He took her hand in his and guided her to the dancefloor but again, and exactly like his brother, she couldn't dance. Her graceless moves were those of a small child in the middle of a tantrum: dispossessed of all rhythm, like a virulent spasm.
She was exactly like his brother: dull, boring, apathetic. Those two belonged together he thought – she was just so different from the girls he was used to, so different from the boys he was used to… so different, so far from his reach, slipping through his fingers just like him – exactly like him.
Exactly like Hanzo.
They went back to their table. Many more drinks came and went between them yet he stayed sober, fighting the dazing calls of alcohol. With eyes wide open, he grabbed her hand in his for the very last time that night and they left the bar. The dark streets welcomed them, and the echo of their awkward laughter, as they walked on by.
He kissed her as soon as they had reached the little ramen shop. His hands sneaking under her clothes, as if trying to summon the dormant woman in her.
She was hesitant at first, pushing him slightly away from her body – so he gave her space, stroking her hair gently and whispering sweet words in her ear until he felt her lips reaching out for him.
He invited her over to Hanamura.
The doubt returned but this time, the ignition in her eyes was more than eloquent. The dimly lit streets found them once again, as they made their way back to the castle. Sneaking his companions in during the night was second nature for the younger Shimada. Still, he didn't choose his room. He had a different destination in mind.
He guided her through endless corridors graced by the sweet perfume of the cherry blossoms dancing in the wind outside each window. It was easy to see the radiant spark in her eyes, subtly letting him know that she was enjoying each sight and each second of this borrowed time they were sharing.
They stopped by the old pagoda, the one their mother used to love so much, the one facing directly at Hanzo's bedroom. Their love session quickly became a crescendo of sounds in unison; still, the girl from the ramen shop would not say the only word the Sparrow was dying to hear.
His name.
He wanted his brother to hear her while she moaned his name.
Up in his room, the heir was biting his lower lip in desperation. Those sounds and that voice, they could only belong to one person and one person alone. He got out of bed and opened his window yet it was dark outside – he could only distinguish the intimate carnival of silhouettes moving together in the distance… but that wasn't merely enough.
He left his room and made his way to the old pagoda.
And then he saw them.
Genji stopped as soon as he sensed his brother's presence. He didn't look over his shoulder; he couldn't afford to look at him. Still, he asked, like he always did whenever Hanzo would walk in on him.
Brother, do you want to join?
The pause was as irritating as it was heartbreaking. The doubt inside the heir, overcoming the fury he was feeling.
Genji tried to rejoice in his brother's apparent weakness but his mind wondered: what was he going to do in case Hanzo accepted his invitation? Even when he knew, even when he was sure his brother would never say yes the doubt was still there, his hesitation clear and evident.
So he pushed harder, hiding his face in the soft space between her neck and her shoulder.
One last thrust to send them all right into oblivion.
And then she said it.
His name echoed through the night, freezing each actor in place.
Without saying a word, Hanzo turned around and went back to his room. After that night, he never returned to the little ramen shop. The following morning, a few minutes after breakfast, Genji finally confronted him – the argument was heated but Hanzo did not participate nor did he say a single word. He simply stared at his younger brother with a calm expression on his face and exhaled softly when he realized what was actually going on: Genji was mad at him, madder than he had ever seen his younger brother.
All things considered, it should have been the other way around, he pondered.
Answer me.
Lash out at me if you want, I know I deserve it.
Punch me in the face.
Do something.
Just say something.
Anything.
Anything at all…
"We're going to be late for training, Genji."
It was hard to go on and pretend that the night was still young and that their moods were still intact. Even if he had spared them the details, all of them could see the images transpiring through his abridged version of the story; each carefully selected word was not enough to mitigate or lessen the effects of such a painful memory. His eyes were darker than they had ever seen, and he could see his own latent obscurity spreading around the ones he loved the most: he had chosen to spill one of his darkest secrets for his boyfriend and his girlfriend to hear – even Amelie, the only woman who had ever shown a genuine interest in his brother, as confusing as the feeling connecting them was, had heard it.
He was not proud of what he had done. If only he had known, back then, nothing truly mattered, they were both beyond salvation back then – their fates had already been sealed.
"That's why I think it's weird – the fact that he likes you," Genji said, even when his voice was only trying to breathe some life into the colorless thoughts inside his head. "I never thought he could feel that way ever again. Let alone act on it."
"He hasn't acted on it. So far, at least." Amelie said. "You said it yourself, I was rejected by him."
The Sparrow shook his head quietly, the shadow of a smile beginning to illuminate his eyes.
"He has been acting on it. And quite actively, if you ask me… His rejection was way more than a simple negative." He offered, conciliatorily.
The cowboy cleared his throat – the increasing number of empty bottles resting all around his feet was giving testimony that not even the hardest conversation could ruin the night for him. "I think…" he began, leaning back and letting his shoulders touch the wall behind him, "I think our boy Genji here is jealous of his older brother. He used to be the one always getting the hot chick, but now it seems to me that Hanzo is gonna take on that part."
"But I do have a hot chick – and a rather handsome man, in spite of all the drinking."
"Yeah, but we're not just yours, pretty boy. We are sharers." McCree added, his words numb and somewhat moody.
"Anyway," Genji continued, dismissing the cowboy with a simple movement of his hands and watching as the doctor quickly wrapped her arms around her most disheveled boyfriend. "If I had to be honest, I had my doubts about bringing my brother over… and not just because I know some of them are still dubious of him, expecting him to finish his job… I didn't know if, after all this time, he could still be domesticated." He regretted using that word almost as soon as it had crossed the barrier of his lips yet he went on, determined. "I didn't know if he could be just another one – he had always been the leader, his whole life had revolved around being in that position of absolute power, but here…"
"He has adapted quite well." Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Amelie the one saying that: it was Angela. "He's been supportive, his discipline is remarkable and he works very hard. He's dedicated."
The cowboy nodded in agreement although, this time, he preferred to keep his mouth shut.
"And you've been playing a rather crucial part in Hanzo's adaptation." The doctor finished, addressing Amelie with a tender look.
"That's what I've been trying to point out," Genji spoke, voice lively and louder than before. "You might think that I mock him too much, that I still pick on him, or make fun of him, but neither of you can see what you've been doing for him." For the first time, in a really long time that night, his smile finally reached his eyes, "My brother always tended to leave people on the outside – always, even his closest friends, even me. Ever since we were but little kids he always had this invisible barrier all around him, preventing others from getting too close. I figured, when I was younger, that it was part of his training, that the distance between him and the rest of the world, even if only metaphorically, was needed, somehow. They needed to isolate him so they could fully indoctrinate him. When our father died and even sometime after Hanzo had already left the clan, he could still feel that distance stretching further and further – it gave him superiority, it gave him authority. Now he's grown accustomed to solitude but in a very different way. Instead of demolishing all the invisible walls that the clan elders had built all around him he himself built up yet more walls secluding him from the rest of the world. I guess being a lonely mercenary requires that much from you… especially when you think you're beyond redemption, and especially when you're seeking atonement but you're not willing to forgive yourself. It's a trick for the mind, if you will, an endless domino that leads nowhere." It was easy to notice Zenyatta's teachings shining through the student's words – his time with the Omnic had provided Genji with a renewed sense of introspection, a deeper knowledge of those around him. "Even today it still is intrinsically hard for me to try to break those walls and reach out to him…. Our bond was always ill-natured, too many different opinions came to play very early in our lives, contaminating the both of us – our ties were never simple and they will never be simple given the events of our past. But you're halfway there, even if you can't see it, Amelie. Rejected or not, you slept with him – two nights in a row, that's definitely something."
Her eyes found his, the ignition inside her irises making room for her newborn emotions to reach the surface.
"He thinks our stories are intertwined, somehow…" She commented, "Thinks we have this darkness in common… this… thirst for light. And it keeps me there, near him, but every time I tried to get closer he just closes off, leaving me on the outside, looking in."
"I understand what he has found in you: if you can find hope, then maybe he can too – and that could have been his greatest motivation in the beginning but now… now there's something more, you can't deny it." The doctor whispered, causing both the ninja and the sniper to look in her direction: the cowboy was asleep in her arms, his hat covering his face.
They smiled at the image for a brief instant, allowing its simple grace to warm them up inside. Amelie reached out for Genji, cupping one of his hands with her own:
"It's not easy. I saw those connections in the beginning – I could relate as well. But lately…" her hazy eyes seemed clouded by doubt, "I understand what the clan did to him… but every time I look at you I can see myself: the damage is done, the wounds are real." She stood up, getting ready to leave – then she leaned over, and kissed the doctor on the cheek before saying:
"This morning, in Hanzo's room, you said you two had never fought over a woman. But your story…"
"We never fought over her. He never fought for her." Genji concluded. "That was the last time I tried to help him open his eyes and see the one he was becoming… but after that girl, I saw the bigger picture: my brother was nobody. They had made an abstraction out of him: my brother was not a person, not anymore. My brother was power. Intangible. Unreachable. Inexistent – untouchable." He observed her as she stretched her legs, getting ready to walk back to her room. When she leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek the Sparrow looked her in the eye and asked:
"What do you want with him?" He was determined to be blunt: as blunt as can be. "Do you want to fuck him, or do you want something more?"
She stared at him in silence, dubious of her own irresolution. McCree saved her from herself, as he yawned loudly and stretched his arms over his head.
"You're leavin'?"
Amelie nodded. "It's getting late, Jesse."
"We talked so much about Hanzo, maybe we should have invited him too." The cowboy said as he kicked the empty bottles aside.
The doctor ran her hands through his hair and rearranged his hat for him – "Maybe we should have…" she considered, standing up and joining Amelie.
"Just one last thing…" Genji's voice found her with renewed intent, forcing her to turn around and meet his gaze. "Does he ever talk about me?"
She didn't want to let him down – but she couldn't find the strength to lie to his face either.
"We talked about you earlier this afternoon." She said.
The Sparrow furrowed his brow, expecting the woman to go on.
"We were talking about your penis."
The cowboy laughed out loud, snorting and slapping his knees.
"What about my penis?" Genji asked, visibly shocked by the revelation.
Amelie folded her arms over her chest, suppressing a smile and trying her best to keep her composure. She couldn't look at Angela now. She just couldn't.
"We were debating whether your penis is human or artificial."
Genji's mouth was agape, and his cheeks were turning red - the cowboy was laughing even louder than before. Angela's giggles, albeit shy, were beginning to ring inside their ears.
"Oh, I got both versions." Genji managed to say, still shocked by the topic they've chosen but clearly trying to make a good come back. "We couldn't decide, really, and since I got a boyfriend and a girlfriend we thought having two penises could be useful, you know? In the long run…"
"The long run?!" McCree laughed manically, feeling his belly starting to ache.
"We also talked about you, cowboy." Amelie turned around, helping Genji. "Hanzo thinks one of your mechanical fingers is secretly a vibrator."
The laughter stopped. He was dead serious now.
He stood up and walked up to her.
"Just one finger?" His silver-colored hand was lingering right before her eyes, "He thinks only one of my fingers is a vibrator? All my fingers are vibrators, sweetheart. Except for the thumb 'cause, you know, the thumb is… the thumb is weird."
Amelie covered her face with one of her hands yet it wasn't enough to keep the laughter inside. They all exploded simultaneously, the loud bursting of their laughing and the warmth of all those tears of completely senseless joy prevented the group from noticing the two men approaching them.
"Genji," Hanzo said, keeping his distance, admiring the cheerful scene from afar. "Winston needs us." Standing right by his side, 76 took off his visor and stared deeply into Angela's eyes. It wasn't hard for them to see that he was having trouble trying to understand the dynamics of their love – still, he struggled, as his eyes composed and decomposed the scene a hundred times in only a fraction of a second.
"What is it?" The doctor spoke, her eyes unable to leave the aged face of that man, as if trying to find the Jack she had loved and lost so long ago.
"Please, come with me." The older Shimada said, already turning around and walking towards the exit. He didn't even stop to look at her – he had seen more than enough. The way she was laughing, how she seemed to fit in almost perfectly… he couldn't afford to delve any deeper into those images: ever since meeting each other, they hadn't needed anybody else but now… now she was slipping through his fingers, laughing with others, spending her time with them.
It used to be just the two of them. Complicated, twisted, wordless. But just the two of them.
Genji hurried up and joined his brother.
The rest of the group followed the Sparrow in silence, keeping their distance, wondering what was going on. The vigilante closed the huge hangar doors as soon as everyone had abandoned the place – his imperturbable gaze meeting Amelie's with renewed discord: that woman had exposed him.
Now she was laughing with the only woman he had ever loved.
.
.
.
IV – Homecoming
They weren't allowed inside Winston's office, Morrison had been pretty clear: the scientist wanted to speak with both Shimada brothers - alone. Yet he didn't stay with the rest of the group to wait for the siblings. He simply left them in the dimly lit corridor; their backs leaned against the wall.
They couldn't hear anything. They weren't yelling at each other, they weren't screaming from the top of their lungs. That strange type of tranquility gave way for uncertainty to become anticipation. None of them said a word – the cowboy had his hands on the doctor's shoulders, his lips were pressed tightly together. Angela seemed distressed by the whole situation – even when she was trying her best to conceal her concern behind a fake smile. Amelie noticed this, but still reciprocated the gesture with genuine affection.
It was late, it was unexpected.
It was challenging – for everyone.
Nearly an hour later, Winston finally opened the door for the Shimada brothers to go back to their quarters. They walked side by side until they found the ones waiting for them – then distance overcame them once again as Genji joined his lovers and Hanzo moved closer to Amelie.
"What's going on?" The Frenchwoman asked, not even waiting for the lovers to be gone.
"They've been going through the information you and 76 collected during your last mission." Hanzo began. "It's not much, and I myself believe it's a bit far-fetched, but there's reason to believe Talon has begun operating in Japan. Winston believes they're trying to recruit former members of our clan."
"I thought the Shimada clan was no more," Angela said, acting cautiously yet intrigued by the archer's words. She abandoned her men and moved closer to the snipers.
Hanzo nodded his head in silent agreement, before continuing:
"There's a ship waiting to take us both back home. We leave in an hour."
"Back to Hanamura?" The doctor retorted – "Just the two of you?" It was frightening to even say those words out loud.
Both brothers nodded, staring at each other as if no-one was watching and sharing a peaceful kind of silence that still seemed foreign to them. Genji walked up to Angela, grabbing her by her wrists and pulling her close: she was worried; there was no denying it, no hiding it from their eyes – and her reasons were irrefutable.
"We both agreed that, after all this time, for once, we could use Hanamura for something good." The Sparrow explained, staring intently into Angela's eyes now. "That place has been coated in blood in the past – it has shielded criminals and it has divided us, for far too long." Hanzo nodded his head in silence, admiring his brother in a way he had never experienced before, "Watchpoint: Tokyo does not exist anymore – but even if it did, we cannot afford the luxury of being that blunt."
McCree joined them, a serious expression taking over his face.
"We are not even supposed to be here – you have a point." He said, folding his arms over his chest. "Still, don't you think going back to Hanamura, together, is an equally blunt move?"
"Could be." The archer said, "but as heirs, as the legitimate owners of Shimada Castle, we would only be claiming what is rightfully ours. We'll go first, see the place, find out if there's still someone in there – old maids, I presume… Once we establish Hanamura is a safe place for us to operate, a small team will be joining us. We already told Winston: the three of you are top priorities in the list of names we suggested for this mission. We know it's not entirely up to us, but please know we did our best. "
Silence enveloped the entire group as the brothers began to imagine what could be one of the most crucial images of their lives: the gates of Hanamura, receiving the dragons in all their magnificence.
Leaving the corridor, the brothers walked to their respective quarters. They didn't have any time to waste.
The dragons, together, were going home.
.
.
.
V – The Girl From the Ramen Shop
She followed him through the dimly lit corridors of Gibraltar and back to his room. She stayed outside, her hands planted on the door for some stability. When she entered his room, the archer was already packing up most of his stuff. She sat down on his bed almost soundlessly and watched him as he folded his clothes in a rather parsimonious way – judging by his simple movements, he was more than used to leaving in the middle of the night.
When he took off his training shirt she could finally catch a glimpse of the red lines that spread along his collarbone; the souvenirs that her twisted kind of love had left for him to remember her. Then she stood up, walked up to him and let her fingers trace the capricious patterns. Soft to the touch, yet immensely wrong in their violent nature, the signs of her affection still caused nothing but pain.
Dismissing the candor in her eyes, the Japanese man selected a black dress shirt from his wardrobe and put it on. A matching black tie completed the image: the heir was returning home, not a beggar, not a poor soul seeking balance. For a brief moment she could have sworn even the look in his eyes had changed: it seemed colder now, more distant and calculative than before.
Maybe he was still mad at her for everything that had happened between them during their last training session.
Maybe the former crime lord was taking over, subtly transforming the frailty of that wounded man she had known during his stay in Gibraltar.
"It's alright, Amelie" He spoke softly as he rearranged his tie. He had noticed her. He had.
She shook her head once but before inertia had a chance to return her neck to its original position, the man grabbed her chin and pressed his lips to hers but if she had to be honest with herself, his kiss didn't feel like a kiss. It felt like a scorching seal, secluding a very specific moment as if he was trying to commit it to memory – a seal locking up a selected portion of the time they had shared.
Shivers ran down her spine: his lips were determined, yet they were intrinsically cold and definitive.
He turned around and went back to his wardrobe and there she stayed, frozen in the epicenter of his room. Her arms hanging loosely at the sides of her body – her eyes, as if searching, as if trying to identify which version of him was there with her now.
Dark, he was – but even if the beast living inside was bright enough to light him up she could only see bits and pieces taking form all around him, never the whole man.
"Genji told me about you and the girl from the ramen shop." She said.
"Why would he even tell you that?" He didn't stop to look at her, didn't even try to address the curiosity missing in her voice but alive and afire inside her eyes, "Such a dull story anyways."
"It wasn't dull." She said, "Not in the slightest."
He put on a long, black coat. His eyes still distant.
"You sure about that?" He said, going back to the bed. He began packing up again, nearly oblivious of her presence. "Boy likes girl but girl doesn't like him back. Nothing out of the ordinary."
She felt like crying. Even when she didn't know exactly why.
She fought back the tears. Standing up, she motioned her body towards his, stopping only inches away from where he was.
"You were a coward."
Only then he stopped. He looked up at her, a half smile curling up his lips.
"Say that again." He challenged her.
He didn't give her any time to speak. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards his bed. Pinning her shoulders down, he forced her to sit beside him. The woman stared at him with dubious eyes – she was sure she had stepped out of line with her last remark yet she was positive he wasn't looking for her fear.
"I really liked her." he breathed out, his hand landing on her nearest knee, "But that was not enough."
"But you didn't do anything… you just let your brother sleep with her as if you didn't care."
"I cared too much. That's why I didn't do anything."
The heir seemed lost, reminiscing a time that was never coming back. The clothes he was wearing, the renewed solemnity in his voice… all foolish charades in a game of shallow appearances for the prying eyes not to see the real man struggling underneath it all.
"She was very shy… nice and caring, but mostly shy. I wasn't an expert on love back then, I still have much to learn today… but soon I noticed her father would constantly try to get her to speak to me." He explained, eyes clouded by long-lost images. "One thing I knew for sure: the clan members would never approve – I was the heir, I was already promised to somebody else… and there I was, falling for the girl who worked at the ramen shop."
"But your brother… all his freedom,"
"My brother was not the heir." He cut her off, removing his hand. "He tried his best to lure me into his liberties, even when he knew I had no other choice but to remain loyal to the life I was meant to lead." His jawline was rigid, he was gritting his teeth venomously, "He knew nothing of responsibilities – always sheltered under my father's wings. Still, I loved him, deeply." He stopped before the contrasting emotions could get the best of him, allowing her some time to collect her thoughts, and offered her his hand in response. Genji's words rang inside her head: the way the story ended, what the Sparrow had done to his older brother, how pointless it had been for both siblings in the end.
He looked down, and stared at his own calloused hands – the warmth emanating from her fingers was spreading across his skin, contagious and persistent, as if trying to wake him up from his languorous slumber.
"I never knew if she liked me back or not, but I knew finding out was risky – especially for her." He whispered, "That's why I chose to just stare at her every day… It wasn't much, but all things considered… it was enough."
"All things considered?"
"Like I told you, the clan elders were never going to accept her, so the less they knew about her, the better. Plus, her father seemed… quite interested in the possibility of us getting together, and who could blame him? I thought it wouldn't be fair for her to be dragged down to the yakuza just to please her father's ambitions. I was a big shot back then, everybody knew who I was. And she was just a nice, shy girl. Who was I to force her into all that shit?"
Her mouth agape, the words were fighting to escape her constricted throat.
"You were protecting her?"
Hanzo nodded in silence.
The notion dawned inside of her like the most obvious revelation ever: it's not that they had led different types of lives; it had never been a matter of freedom versus duty. The brothers had never understood each other – that's why, even if they tried, they could have never overcome such unbearable barriers. Genji was a challenge; a transgression. Hanzo was history and obligation. Genji was rebellion. Hanzo was tradition. Genji fucked the girl because he saw the doubt in Hanzo, slipping through the cracks in his determination. He almost said yes, only once… He only wanted to make sure his brother heard her moaning his name – yet his name, the intrinsic symbol of everything he was and everything his brother was not, was nothing but a sound… a simple, meaningless sound in a sea of unintelligible echoes.
Moved by him and his unspoken defeat, the woman moved closer and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. He seemed stiffed by her touch, like a lifeless statue with no trace of a soul.
When he finally moved, he freed himself from her. He grabbed his bag and motioned towards the door.
Trepidation invaded her then, as she stood up as well, and let her hands rest on his back. He didn't turn around, his fingers already toying with the doorknob – his eyes were closed.
"Hanzo…"
The man took a deep breath before turning around to meet her gaze. His movements were deliberatively slow now.
"Once the mission is complete, you will be coming back. Won't you?"
His stare was long but vacant. For the very first time, ever since meeting that man, she hated the silence he had to offer.
"Hanzo…"
He grabbed her furiously by her waist, her back slamming hard against the door, and pinned her hands over her head. Then he kissed her, fiercely, desperately. Her tongue, numb at first but showing some signs of life as seconds went by, tried its best to keep up but his spirit was restless – merciless. When he finally put her down she was a complete mess – breathless, covered in sweat. The heat subsided, making room for cold shivers to run down her spine. Through the black of his shirt, all the way up from his forearm to his shoulder, she could see the misty sparkling of a blue she knew too well to ignore.
She traced the outline of his jaw with trembling fingers yet he removed her hand.
"I may not know a single thing about love but you, Amelie… you really need to get your shit together."
The reprimand, long overdue and colder than what she had expected, helped her realize that her confusing love was not his love. If anything, he was only trying to push her away, just like he had done all those years ago. She could scream someone else's name from the top of her lungs and it wouldn't matter: the clan was no more, but the chains had not been broken – the man staring back at her was still a prisoner of the trap they had built all around him.
He was content that way, admiring her from afar, keeping his distance.
He could allow her to sleep on his bed, to take off her clothes…
But he didn't need her troubled mind to come toy with him. He didn't need that. He didn't need anything.
Anything at all.
She grabbed his shoulders before he could leave the room. Even without knowing what to say or what to do, she felt the urge to stop him, felt the need to look at him, just one last time.
His mouth found hers again, devouring her whole and consuming the little air still left in her – soon she found herself realizing that, if kisses were speeches, his were definitely monologues. Before parting, he trapped her lower lip between his teeth and didn't stop until he tasted her blood. Then he licked his own lips, looking satisfied.
"Now we're even." He said.
And he left.
.
.
.