Title: Rebalance

Characters: Hanzo, (Genji)

Note: Thanks to all who have sent in requests or ideas. I've got a nice little queue of things to write now, as well as a few more ideas myself that I'm going to expand upon. So keep a look out there! I'm still a bit ill, so updates will be slow and the content a little off, but I'm recovering.

As for this one, consider it a 'part 2' from the 'Reawake' drabble. Genji is still working for Overwatch, and Hanzo gets a unwitting sneek peek of what has become of his brother, and the organizations at large. Also, I'm going to stop trying to put notes into my drabbles, ahaha. - Guixi.

The metallic gauntlet remained outstretched as a soft, pink petal drifts lazily down, carried only by the autumn breeze, resting neatly into the glove's palm. Fingers then curled, not careful not to crush the fragile blossom, thumb gently – ever so gently – grazing over it's smooth surface, before letting it be released back into the wind.

Truthfully, he never thought he would be back here again, not so soon after paying his respects.

Hanamura remained the beautiful village he remembered it as, even if it's idyllic reputation was tarnished by the likes of his family's empire. Unassuming it was, full of quiet streets and cheerful inhabitants, tucked away in it's picturesque scenery, behind city walls and the stain of the criminal enterprise. It held much ancestral significance to him, but after that fateful night it brought nothing but tainted memories of brotherly rapport.

Hanzo Shimada allowed himself this one moment of reprieve, even if a part of him nagged that he didn't deserve it. The death of his younger brother still haunted him greatly, and no amount of lowlife scum he killed could wash the blood of him off his hands. But, he continued to hunt, anyway, believing that one day – perhaps it would. Perhaps it would restore some lost part of him.

It wouldn't bring Genji back..

His hands clutched tightly against the wood of the platform he knelt upon, knuckles of his fleshy hand turning white. No matter what he did, his mind betrayed him. Thick brows furrowed deeply, brown eyes hardening into a rocky glare. He was plagued with this curse, and what made it worse – was his willingness to give himself self-pity. He did not deserve to wallow in grief, for his actions had been a necessary evil he must burden.

Especially since his leave had been the tipping point for the clan's demise. The name Shimada would simply be the dirt on Hanamura's expansive history, and in place, Overwatch, and their heroic deeds. While he had left, he had kept in tenuous touch with the dealings of the empire. How the peacekeeping force knew of the true locations of stockpiles and high-ranking members were beyond him.

The time to drown in misery was no more. The target of his hunt – some criminal upstart that a rival wanted dead – slipped out from one of the bamboo, sliding doors. He seemed to be accompanied by three men, all in black suits and black sunglasses, likely bodyguards. Hanzo felt his lip curl back in a sneer, knowing that only so long ago, was him in that same situation when he was younger.

He withdrew a compacted arrow that would fragment and slay all in it's wake, notching it silently on his Storm Bow. The winds were favourable, his target ignorant. All that remained were to pull back the string and let go.

That was, until he was winded, a heavy figure tackling him roughly to the ground, and his arrow misfired, embedding uselessly in the post near to the group. The man below let out a startled gasp, and within seconds he was escorted quickly out of the area, huddled safely within the group of guards.

The pain that shot up his spine was negligible to the fury that brewed from being denied his honour, and utilized his free arm to swing his weapon in front of him. His attack was not meant to harm; as simple he needed to get the assailant off him. The Japanese man got a better look at him, though his keen eyes could not discern anything useful from his full body, metal suit.

The mystery man ( – if it was even a man ) rolled off of him, narrowly avoiding the swiping arc of the his bow and stepped back to a reasonable distance. He was not one to usually employ such wild and unrefined tactics, yet desperation called for sudden action, and the other options were ones he wanted to avoid for the meantime.

It was easy for Hanzo to stand, distributing most of his weight on the balls of his feet as he remained stooped in a low crouch. For a tense moment they faced off; the glint of the opponent's katana gracing the tip of the floor before being steadily risen to a stance he swore he had seen before, whilst the living man reached for his arrow.

"You have denied me a stepping stone towards gaining honour," the bowman grounded out. "Killing you will rebalance that."

He was greeted with a voice marred with an electronic undercurrent and digital tone; "Isn't once enough, Shimada?"

There was a feeling of cold dread that crept up his back like icy talons, as if he was staring at a ghost. He inwardly shook himself – such things did not exist, and the only thing that he knew of this assailant was his bold move and cybernetic suit. Perhaps such feeling was merely the Dragon judging upon him – he missed once, he would not do so again.

"I have no clue of which you speak," spat Hanzo. "You have interfe-"

"Do you even know who you were going to assassinate?" the figure cuts him off scathingly. The bowman's response was to raise his weapon, arrow notched back as his muscles tensed. His keen eyes noted that even though his suit was metal; he too seemed to brace the oncoming attack. A tense moment passes as neither of them instigated, and prompted the other to continue.

After all, it wasn't Hanzo's duty to know whom he was killing. His fury remained tempestuous as he thought on the fact that he was a trained assassin, a mercenary, and the disgraced lord of the Shimada clan, doing the dirty work of questionable men. His employer had been nothing special; other than providing enough information to kill the criminal.

"He was a diplomat."

"I care not for-"

"Returning from Numbani. If you had killed him, it would have seemed the Omnics had a hand in it."

His bow lowered just a fraction, plainly seeing his point. Starting a war between the humans and the Omnics, unwillingly or not, would not be the path to his redemption. Furthermore, it became obvious that his employer had lied and manipulated the facts surrounding his target, which made him all the more vengeful. He will grant one mercy towards the stranger for his actions, for he had spared him committing further condemnation.

Brown eyes glanced up to the cool green of the figure's visor, and the bowman was the first to drop his aggressive stance, easing up to a standing position. He cared not if the other followed in his stead; watching from the corner of his eye the stainless metal of the blade still glinting in the morning light.

"Then I must thank you for preventing me from making a grave mistake." his eyes narrowed. "However next we meet, shall not be so courteous, stranger. You have little idea of whom you are dealing with."

The figure chuckled lowly, the sound harsh in his ears with it mangled by the technology that encased him.

"I have plenty of idea, Hanzo Shimada, but it is you who is in the dark. You are not ready to know."

"Know what?"

Unsurprisingly, he did not receive an answer, only more questions as the figure sheathed his blade and left the Japanese marksman to his thoughts. If the target of his hunt was a diplomat and not a criminal, then he likely fell under Overwatch's protection. That gave some clue to his assailants identity, as well as his employers.

Needless to say, Hanzo did not like to be played for a fool. He would rectify his near mistake – in blood, if needs be.