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myth-and-mischief · 8 years ago

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Overwatch OC/Canon Week Day One overall theme: “Firsts” Hanichi (Hanzo Shimada / Shuichi)

Notes: Gentle reminder that Shuichi is genderfluid and thus pronouns may change. Also, in the beginning, Hanzo was not aware that Shuichi was in fact one of the dragons and believed him to be a human priest, especially since at the time Shuichi was newly awakened and weak.

First Steps Hanzo had not realized how small Shuichi’s hands were until he grasped one in his own. The thick fingers woven through the slim ones for support, giving the archer a place to lean his weight as he stands. Pain is already racing through his lower legs, only dulled by the way the muscles shake at the strain. How long has it been since he stood? How long has it been since he killed his brother under the belief to save him, only to realize all he has done is shatter their lives forever?

His balance waivers for a moment, but Shuichi is there to brace him once again. Hanzo concentrates on the shrine’s single inhabitant so his mind will not dwell on the pain. Now that he is standing he can see Shuichi is as small as he imagined since his arrival. The top of his head only just barely coming to his chin. There are sakura blossoms in his hair today, which is allowed to freely fall to his waist. So it is spring. But how long has it been? Only a few days, weeks? Or has it been a year, a year since the spring since he ended Genji’s life. Hanzo can only force the feelings down at he realizes he cannot remember, time lost to muddled days of pain and the sudden silence of his dragon.

The second delicate hand settles over his own, drawing Hanzo from his thoughts as the soft pads rub a moment at his rough knuckles. The blue eyes as soft as his face as Shuichi speaks. “Do you need to sit down a moment?”

“No,” Hanzo shakes his head, dark bangs brushing over his face. “I don’t have time to waste like this anymore.”

His gaze falls down to his lower legs, still healing from that day, as he focuses his will into them. He misses the expressions on Shuichi’s face at his words. Empathy and sorrow at the events that have all woven together to bring them both to this moment. Pride at the sudden will to live, so different than the torpid state that had consumed Hanzo for the past year. He squeezes Hanzo’s hand with both of his, the scent of sakura carried on the gentle breeze that moves now through the shrine grounds. “Allright, then lean on me. I’ll be right here beside you,” Shuichi promises as Hanzo takes his first step.

First Flutters

The wind accompanied Hanzo as he made the trek along the meandering path to the shrine. Before he puzzled over why the steps were not more direct. Now, hearing the wind through the trees and bamboo, seeing the display of summer flowers painting the mountain, he understood the journey was meant as contemplative. Shuichi had explained, or perhaps reminded, that the mountain was as sacred as the shrine itself. A visual presence, comfort, and reminder to the people that inhabited Hanamura. The city spread over the hills across the river at the foot of the mountain.

Shuichi… Hanzo had to remind himself not to touch the flowers tucked safely in his pouch yet. It wouldn’t do to bruise the stems or knock the petals of the kikyo blossoms off. He found himself expectant. Excited at the possibility of seeing Shuichi again after these months. The shrine was now the only place he could return to in relative safety, the only place he might be able to consider home.

And Shuichi the only one he could rely on.

He finds Shuichi in the southern section of the shrine, in the gardens spilling around the ancient training and sparring grounds. Dressed in a brightly colored yukata with a pattern of asagao and her long hair in pigtails, she’s as beautiful as the flowers she tends to. As if sensing him Shuichi turns, arms brimming with large himawari. But her smile is the brightest of all as she sees him, “Hanzo-kun!!”.

And Hanzo’s heart flutters.

First Longing The first painted leaves of fall have begun to leave the trees as Hanzo sleeps beneath, an arm slung over his companion. Shuichi finds that he cannot sleep. After all, it is one of the few times that the human’s face can be seen at such peace.

Peace is something that Hanzo does not permit himself in waking hours. A self-imposed punishment for his actions. The actions of that night still tangle around his soul, just as the scars of that fight still wrap around his legs. It is what draws him away from the shrine, fighting and wandering, seeking redemption. Each time Hanzo leaves, his absence is felt all the more keenly. Is he safe wherever he is? Is he lonely? The pain is even more palpable at the mere thought that Hanzo may never return to the shrine. That Shuichi will, again, be left alone. Abandoned.

He fingers bury into the human’s hair, now kept in a short high ponytail. Hanzo murmurs in his sleep and the arm over Shuichi’s waist tightens for a moment. The dragon touches the bare arm. Perhaps he will give his power to Hanzo, mark this arm with his sign just as his sister’s mark decorates the other arm.

That way he can always be with Hanzo.

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