hanzo had spent much of his life alone. it was normal, typical, he didn’t ask for anyone’s company and he didn’t think he much needed it. while he had grown up with genji by his side, when they were young, as they got older they both went separate ways, genji would spend his nights out partying and drinking, while hanzo would stay at home and do his studies or help his father manage their yakuza business. he didn’t know what it was like to be surrounded by friends, and after his father died, hanzo knew he couldn’t even consider his family in the yakuza to be his friends either. they were the ones who told him that he needed to kill genji, his own brother who he knew
had done nothing wrong except decide for himself that being a part of the mob wasn’t his priority. it was his choice, and while that was against everything that they had been taught, hanzo had followed suit years after. abandoning the family that raised him, he’d been content to live a life alone.
he felt it was what he deserved, and while he knew he was supposed to be bettering himself, living on in a way that he knew genji would’ve approved of, he still couldn’t help but know that there would be nothing that could make the guilt go away. a wound could heal, that much was true, but guilt haunted you at all hours of the day, it stirred up in your mind before you fell asleep—it would never leave. was that not suffering enough?
he missed the constant positivity of that almost infuriatingly american cowboy, their time together during a blackwatch mission was short lived, but it was long enough for hanzo to know that he would probably never find someone like that again. he didn’t surround himself with other people enough to know if there was more than one jesse mccree out there, but he was certain he already knew the answer. as if there wasn’t enough guilt in hanzo’s heart, weighing it down, the guilt that he’d never found him again was enough to send a killing blow. honestly, if his desire to do better and repent for his wrongdoings wasn’t so overwhelming, he wasn’t sure he’d still be alive to be walking around zephyr, following a band of bandits.
he didn’t like that he thought that way, let his mind wander to that place sometimes, but as he tried to blend into the old tavern’s surroundings, he realized he didn’t have much else to occupy his mind aside from his objective. the area outside of corvid felt like being in a different world entirely, and it seemed darker here, in the distance he could hear the sound of a horse whinnying and finding the inner cloud of the tavern to be counter productive, hanzo slipped out the back door and through an alleyway outside, walking briskly until he saw one of his targets from the gang cornering someone in the stables. huffing to himself, hanzo was thankful that this area was not densely populated by any means, and while he kept to the shadows, he reached back to pull one arrow out of his quiver as he waited for the perfect moment to strike.
he could hear the interaction, whoever it was the gang member was following seemed to have tried to take control of the—wait. the southern drawl that dripped out like liquid honey sounded so familiar, deeper, more threatening than the jesse he’d remembered from what seemed like forever ago, but the voice…that voice. hanzo almost froze for a moment as he tried to not get too ahead of himself. he couldn’t see the person speaking from where he was, and he was almost afraid to see, because surely it couldn’t be him. why would any of the gods smile on hanzo now, not only had they gifted him with a distraction for the bandits that provided hanzo with the element of surprise, but if they had blessed him with a certain american being said distraction…his breath caught in his throat as he heard a countdown begin, and placing his arrow in his bow, precisely lining up the shot that would take down the gang member temporarily, as soon as he heard the thick accented ”two,” he let his arrow fly through the air and watched as it pierced through the bandit’s shoulder right on three, and he collapsed to the ground in agony. it wasn’t a kill shot, but it would be hard for him to come back from that, and as hanzo raced over to the area, he almost stopped short at the image he saw before him.
mccree was older, of course, they both were, but he still looked so similar, his eyes were still that soft chocolate brown, his hair still a tousled mess, the years had come and gone, but there was no denying this was jesse mccree. for a moment, hanzo wanted to say something, but he knew that he too had changed over the years and also, maybe…after what he’d done to genji, maybe mccree didn’t want anything to do with hanzo anyway. maybe he wouldn’t recognize him. he looked down briefly at the bandit rolling on the ground in pain and knelt to dig through his pockets quickly before pulling out a gun and a few knives and handing them to jesse. ”i…hm.” could he just say it? ”i do not know if..”...you would remember me....”there are more close behind, do you know why they are following you?” maybe if the cowboy had no idea who hanzo was, at the very least, hanzo could get him out of here safe and sound, all while knowing that he was here in zephyr for some reason.
he straightened himself and stood, still shorter than the american, always shorter it seemed—and he met the other’s gaze. he wanted to let jesse go, he knew that surely he could handle himself, but hanzo would never not be protective of those he loved. his eyes fell to the cowboy’s left arm, no longer skin and he felt a tug at his heartstrings, he’d had no idea what this man had been through in the time since they’d last seen each other. he couldn’t have stopped himself from speaking if he tried.
”do you know who i am?”