A/N: In this, 76 can't remember who he was pre-Swiss explosion. On the other hand, due to becoming a semi-omniscient demon, Hanzo knows exactly who he is.

Hanzo Shimada was dead.

That didn't stop him being a perpetual thorn in 76's side. He followed the soldier relentlessly, often appearing without warning in a billowing cloud of tainted fog and smoke. He rarely stood on the ground these days, preferring to sit on the walls or hang by his feet from the ceiling.

He didn't speak unless addressed, and even then, offered little besides the occasional infuriatingly cryptic statement, his milky-white eyes and too wide, crescent-shaped grin betraying nothing beyond an inkling of amusement at the soldier's expense.

He visited no one else, not Lucio and Hana, not Lena or Mercy, not even his brother. When he was feeling particularly cross with the oni, 76, a reclusive spirit by nature, would seek out their company, knowing Hanzo would dissipate before they ever caught sight of him.

Finally, 76 couldn't take anymore. Hanzo was hovering silently behind him, watching with unblinking eyes as he obliterated the dummy bots in the shooting range with several unerring blasts of his pulse rifle, when he barked, "Why don't you just spit it out, Shimada? What do you want from me?"

76 glanced at Hanzo's reflection in the glass to see a grimace set upon the demon's face. Curiously, the oni opened and closed his mouth, working it soundlessly before finally giving up with a snarl of genuine frustration. "I can't." He shook his head. "If you make a deal-"

"That's not going to happen."

Hanzo splayed his hands helplessly. "Then this is the best I can do." A light entered his pupiless eyes as an idea seemed to come to him. His grin stretched. "Actually, there may be something else."

He floated closer to the soldier, who tensed, firearm at the ready. He wasn't sure what to expect from the archer's shadow self, but it wasn't the teasing, Mexican-accented words that drifted towards him. "You're so dense, cabron."

Hanzo sat back, giving him space, as the man seemed to breathing a little too harshly. "Well? Did you remember anything?"

A blast of heat streaked past his head, slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to leave a deep, smoking crater. "Get out," 76 sneered, his pulse rifle already whirring as it charged its next shot.

The oni nodded slowly, acknowledging the rejection with a tinge of sadness that 76 couldn't believe was real.

Then just as suddenly as he'd come, he vanished. 76 lowered his firearm with a heavy sigh. It was always like this. The demon would be back to torment him in no time.

When it was fully charged, the rifle let out a whine, and he turned his attention to the shooting range.

McCree didn't know what he was doing. This was not exactly an unusual state of affairs with him, as he would be the first to admit, but summoning a demon wasn't something he could afford to mess up on.

Ana had told him the exact amount of each ingredient required for the ritual, had even drawn out a pentagram on a sheet of paper for him to copy. The only thing he needed now was something the demon had deemed important in life.

He was tempted to just step into the center of the pentagram himself, but stifled the urge. Instead, he gently placed a yellow sash, a broken bow, and a faded, framed photo of two young men smiling cockily out at the world.

He stepped back, satisfied with his work, then called out the true name of the demon, just as Ana had instructed. "Oi, Hanzo! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, pardner. I want to talk to ya."

It took a minute, enough to make the cowboy sweat, before smoke rushed from the meticulous chalk lines, obscuring the pentagram. He coughed, eyes watering.

A blurry figure stood amongst the noxious clouds. Desperate to get a better look, McCree rubbed his eyes with his fists, clearing his vision until he could just make out the deathly pallor of the oni's skin, the red ribbons tattooed around his eyes and on his chest standing out a startling crimson against the grey. Despite that, he only looked annoyed. "You know that is not the proper way to summon me, Jesse.

McCree responded with a triumphant grin. "It worked, didn't it?"

Letting his head fall, Hanzo massaged his brow. He did not think he would still be suffering headaches after his death, and yet, one had clearly summoned him. "Why have you brought me here, McCree?"

"76 says you've been bothering him something fierce since you died."

Keeping his expression stoic, Hanzo accepted the words, revealing no opinion on the matter either way. "Do you intend to banish me, then?" He said simply.

As if you could.

McCree clapped a hand to his forehead with a laugh. "Always straight to the point with you, isn't it?" Sobering quickly, he added, "Nah, that ain't it. Way I see it, only someone with good intentions could be that dang irritating."

The demon blinked, baffled. "Then why? For what purpose-

"I miss ya, darling." McCree shrugged. "It's as simple as that."

"I see," Hanzo said slowly, the soft smile lifting his lips a painful reminder of who he'd once been, and who, far as anyone who cared for him, who really took the time to get to know him was concerned, he still was. Keeping his gaze locked on the cowboy, Hanzo stepped back, allowing the clouds he'd brought with him to fold over his body, enveloping him.

With a startled cry, McCree lunged. His hands passed through the clouds without resistance, coming up empty. He was still staring at them in disbelief and disappointment when the demon's parting words curled tenderly around his ears, lingering like the last breath of a dying man, "Goodbye, Jesse."