Note: THIS IS NOT A GENJIxDVA SHIP, Genji is looking out for Hana like an older brother. (Please keep in mind that Genji is around thirty and Hana is fifteen in this fic, as it's four years before she joined Overwatch.)
Updates may be delayed/sporadic next week, as I am currently quite busy with another project.
Genji had grown up in a broken family. His family, especially his father, had pressured him to do terrible, terrible things, and when he'd refused, his older brother had killed him.
Meaning, he of all people should at least partly understand how Hana felt.
And yet, as the two sat silently in the backseat of the cab, Genji could not think of a single thing to say. It was a vile, frustrating feeling, though he banished it with relative ease, utilizing the methods of his Teacher.
For the hundredth time, his gaze strayed towards the young girl, who was staring pensively out the window, dark eyes looking into their own reflection. She looked so pale and fragile, as if she had been carefully crafted from rice paper. Genji knew the look to be of someone who never ventured out beneath the sun.
Nevertheless, Hana Song was very pretty with her sculpted face, full lips, and lithe form, as Ana had pointed out on their way back from JUNSIN Factory. "With a few changes here and there, we'll have ourselves an idol," she'd hummed with the air of a satisfied cat. Genji hadn't responded. Ana was a great and selfless woman by all means, but thought on such a global scale that she naturally didn't consider the feelings of the individual. Obviously, she thought transforming Hana into a celebrity to boost Overwatch's popularity and image was the obvious path to take.
On the other hand, Genji thought all too personably, and couldn't help but point out that what they were doing was recruiting a child as a soldier.
Amari had waved away Genji's conflicted feelings with a bark of laughter. "Age is just a number- otherwise, I'd hardly be running around with a gun with my age being as it is, now, would I?"
Hana turned and caught Genji staring. A crease formed between her eyebrows when he didn't bother to look away.
"What is it?"
His voice whirred mechanically. "I was wondering if you are all right."
The words were out of Genji's mouth before he could stop them, and quickly he regretted it. Hana frowned, just a little.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She sounded overly defensive, considering the blotchy bruise now extending from her eye to her lower cheek.
You were just backhanded in the face, then disowned your alcoholic mother, and are leaving your hometown in a matter of days. "You look tired, and your wound needs an ice pack, Hana-san," he said, as matter-of-factly as he could, trying not to appear condescending towards the younger girl.
Hana shrugged, then turned back to the window, to the urban scenery rushing past them. He noted that her brows were still creased. Obviously his concern was bothering her.
"I'm fine." She didn't sound angry anymore- just weary. Genji decided to drop the matter.
For now.
The rest of the ride to the hotel was in complete silence.
They reached their destination just as the sun was starting to fall- a quiet little motel on the South Korean coastline, where it smelled of salt and the ocean. Hana struggled to pick up her suitcase, which was saying something, because it was frankly rather small for something that contained all of her worldly possessions. Genji took it from her with one robotic hand, and carried it into the small motel they'd be staying at, listening with amusement to her hastily muffled protests.
He bid their cabbie farewell before returning to the motel, where Hana stood uncertainly at the door to their place, which was spacious with its five rooms. He flicked on the lights, illuminating the furniture and hardwood floor. Hana stepped over the threshold carefully, obviously pleased, though trying to hide it.
Genji smiled behind his visor. "We'll be staying here for the next three days, while I organize our little trip to Seoul," he said, his voice modulator hissing on the S's.
Hana's head snapped towards Genji. "We're going to Seoul?" She sounded less offended and more surprised, which Genji took to be a good thing. He nodded his head in affirmation. Hana whistled and put her hands on her hips, doing a slow 360 with her head as she surveyed her temporary home.
After a moment, a slight quirk of her lips. "I could get used to this."
"Overwatch headquarters are much larger than this scrap of a house," scoffed Genji with a wide grin. "Though it'll be a while before you're stationed there." He was sure his smile bled over into his tone of voice, because Hana let out a pfft of mock disbelief in response.
As he carried her worn, pink suitcase into her bedroom, he couldn't help but take one long, last look at the girl, who was standing at the center of the living room, staring absently at the window.
Admittedly, he'd expected her to break down as soon as she had left that horrid apartment. To maybe cry, or shake, or scream. He found that was what most did when given such stressful situations for long periods of time.
But no, she'd left the place as casually as could be, without so much as a backwards glance at her mother, face blank as a slate.
There wasn't a doubt in Genji's mind that the physical and mental abuse she'd suffered from the place was smoldering somewhere inside of her, it was just a matter of finding it. There was little to no possibility that she'd walked away from such a terrible place completely unscathed.
If experience has taught me anything, he thought grimly as he stepped back out of the bedroom, Hana is a very emotionally compromised girl.
Genji was almost thirty now- young in comparison to some of the other agents, perhaps, but he liked to think he was at least somewhat wise. He'd gleaned all sorts of information from his time with Overwatch, one of the more interesting tidbits being that most of the Overwatch agents were damaged- hurt from their time in duty, or sometimes even before that.
In a way, it was sort of funny. When Angela had found his oozing remains that one fateful day, he'd adamantly believed his life was over. No one could understand him.
No one had felt his pain.
As it turned out, he was wrong, because behind the mask of the hero everyone wore, there was something raw and uncomfortable that hurt to high hell. Maybe he wasn't completely better yet- maybe he still had dreams of blood and flashing swords and falling cherry blossoms. Maybe he still had trouble talking to Hanzo, trying to get through to his stubborn brother.
Maybe he still hated to claim the name Shimada, the name of the criminal empire that had sought to reform him so.
But all that fell away when he realized that he wasn't the only one going through such struggles. The thought helped him to reclaim at least part of his peace. He had assumed he'd be able to help Hana, given the similarities of their situations.
Yet for some reason, Hana wasn't like how he was in the beginning in any way.
Hana didn't seem cold, or unfriendly, or bitter, or sad. Hana smiled, and laughed, and bristled at the mention of help. She held her head high, and her pride even higher.
Hana seemed like such an ordinary girl, and Genji would've never known otherwise if not for having experienced the violence she experienced at home firsthand.
And that was what put Genji at ill ease more than anything, even more than the fact that she was a kid and about to become a soldier. The fact was, the girl had on a mask, one so cleverly woven that Genji wasn't sure if even he could pry it off her face. Or maybe she wasn't wearing a mask at all, and Genji was badly mistaken, and she was just perfectly fine.
As if that could ever be, he thought with a twinge of sadness, watching as Hana picked up a mug sitting on one of the tables.
"What's this?" she asked, holding it up for inspection, eyebrow raised. DVA's log was carefully drawn on to the mug in pink and black Sharpie, an illegible signature curling around its side.
Genji let out a huff of laughter. "You've got quite a few fans, even back in Overwatch. One of its members sent that along with me. He said he wanted you to have it."
Hana turned the mug carefully over in her hands, eyes going wide at the mention of a 'fan'. "He doesn't even know who I am," she said softly, her cheeks going slightly pink. She set it gently back down on the table, straightened out, then looked Genji square in the eyes. "Tell him I said thank you for the gift. It's very lovely."
She sounded the sincerest she'd been since he'd met her.
He couldn't help but smile again, knowing just how pleased Lucio would be when he received the message. "It's a deal, madam. So, we have a few days to kill before we head for the subway station. What do you usually do in your free time?"
Hana considered this. "Usually I just play games," she said flatly. A prickle of guilt- he'd convinced her to leave her computer back at the apartment, promising to find a way to bring it once they had the necessary storage space.
"I'll make it up to you, then," he offered, quick on the uptake. "Something better than sitting around and playing StarWars, or... CraftyStar. Whatever."
"It's called StarCraft, asshat," Hana retorted, raising an eyebrow as he opened the door to the dusky sky, the quiet murmurs of the sea beckoning from beyond.
Genji chuckled. "We'll get out of here and go to the night market- there just so happens to be one close by. Apparently, it is famous for its street food."
He said this casually, as if it were a coincidence, though in truth he'd planned out everything beforehand, struggling to find something that would keep Hana entertained, before finally settling on this particular motel for its closeness to the night market.
Thankfully, Hana perked up. "The night market? It's been a while since I've been to one of those," she said, thoughtful. "Sounds fun."
Hana tugged on a sturdy pair of black boots, and pulled her hood over her head- it seemed to be an odd habit of hers, as far as Genji could tell. She caught him watching her again, but this time smiled instead of frowning. He felt a flare of warmth, buried deep in the wires that ran through his chest. From behind his visor, Genji smiled back.
Soon, they were out the door.
The night market was indeed close to the motel, and surprisingly busy for the relatively small population density of the surrounding area. People and Omnics of all kind yelled and talked and sang over the hustle and bustle of the crowd, leaning from stands piled high with good, hot food, or thrusting handfuls of handcrafted jewelry from under discolored awnings to the busy passersby. Lanterns glowed from every corner, lighting up the dusky sky with the muted colors of red and orange.
Hana and Genji swam through the sea of people, Genji sticking close to Hana so that she wouldn't get lost, Hana sticking close to Genji because she had little other choice. Genji led the way, pushing through the warm bodies, creating a space for Hana to follow closely behind him. Even with his sensitized hearing, he'd be unable to hear Hana for some periods of time over the din of the rushing people.
Eventually, he gave up trying to keep track of her and simply grabbed her hand, cool metal fingers closing around pale, warm ones. He felt her jump at the contact and try to pull away, but he didn't let go.
"Unless you want to get separated," Genji said loudly, the metallic edge of his voice cutting through the ambient noise, "just hold on until we get out of the crowd."
There was a bit of halfhearted struggling on the other end, and Genji heard her shout something (probably rude) in Korean, but he ignored it, pulling her through the crowds until they reached a less crowded part of the market.
The jewelry stand he'd seen on his first day in Korea was here, tucked away in the corner of the market, like some sort of local secret. It was decidedly more run-down than the other stalls, but it sported very intricate bracelets, and he'd been quite impressed. He turned towards Hana, saying, "I wanted to buy you some-"
She jerked her hand from his grasp violently, hood half-falling from her head with the action. "Michin-nom," she spat, clutching her arm to her chest. Genji, startled, took a step back. Hana's face was flushed, and she was breathing more heavily than she normally did.
A pause. Genji's thoughts raced. What did I do? Does she not like the market? Hana's eyes were starting to clear. Is she scared of me? Just as I was making some progress-
-and then all of a sudden, Genji realized.
"I… am very sorry, Hana-san," he said slowly. He felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner- her aversion to contact had come as a surprise, though now that he really thought about it, why should it?
She's probably never had contact with another person that wasn't a slap to the face. He should've guessed it, or maybe just asked, this was his fault.
"I was not thinking properly. I won't…." He hesitated, again unsure of what to say, and readied himself for her to yell at him, so sure that she was going to get upset, and like hell he certainly deserved it-
But she didn't.
Hana position shifted, and all of a sudden, the mess she had been was gone, neatly covered by a change in facial expression and body language. Genji watched apprehensively as she straightened, face blank as a sheet of paper- and then-
A small smile.
"I overreacted," the Korean girl said smoothly. "I should be the one apologizing." She bowed, ever so slightly, at the surprised cyborg.
For a moment, Genji was stunned. It had taken Hana- what- mere seconds to become the very picture of serenity?
Notes:
Michin-nom- crazy bastard
-San -suffix roughly indicating Ms. or Mr., denotes respect
Night market- In Korea, there is often at least one night market per area. Street food, clothes, handmade items, and other things are sold there from the afternoon all the way into the nigh.
