Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hanzo awoke with a start, sweat coating him like a second skin. The room was pitch dark, the light behind his curtains the deep navy of early spring in the wee hours of the morning. After so many years in the same room, in the same routine, he should have been calmed by the darkness.

Yet despite all the heat roaring softly through his vents, despite the broken feverish dreams, despite the blankets, Hanzo shivered. He sat up, joints protesting, and wiped lingering moisture from his eyes. He groaned and ran a shaky hand through his hair. It wasn’t a nightmare that plagued him, but a hollow sense of dread and abandonment that sat like undigested food deep in his gut.

Throwing his feet over the edge of his large, lonely bed, Hanzo strode familiar steps across his bedroom and padded down the hall to his kitchen. The floorboards were freezing under his bare feet, the house silent but for the hum of his straining heating system.

He stopped in the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to survey his empty house. Everything was as it should be. The fire had been doused. The door was locked. So why did he feel so unsettled?

Shaking his head to dispel the feeling, he reached for his trusty kettle. He tapped a rune to make it fill itself with water, then turned the stove on and assembled his diffuser and favorite mug. He knew that preparing a good cup to warm his belly would calm his shaking hands and roiling stomach.

Hanzo expected that the coming day would be hard; facing it with less a broken night’s sleep was less than optimal, but he could deal with it. He would have had to have been up in a few hours for work anyway. But still: today would be different. He had plans. Plans that should, hopefully, resolve the headaches he’d had every day since the new year had started. With a glance at his kitchen clock-- the hands telling him it was nearing four in the morning-- he decided to give up on getting back to sleep and resigned himself to a long day.

He didn’t realize that today was just the beginning.

--

The tiny shop Genji had sent Hanzo to was set back between two shining, modern storefronts, raising Hanzo’s hopes for the place hew as sent to find. But upon investigation, the entrance for McCree’s Oddities And Artifacts was practically in an alleyway. It had a stooped roof and the crooked sign was half-covered by a teetering pile of bric a brac.

Hanzo stared at the disheveled stacks with disdain. There were piles all over the place, many as high or higher than Hanzo himself, leaning against each other like geriatric grandmothers. The display window lay opaque with grime, preventing Hanzo from seeing inside the building when he peeked around a haphazard pile of what looked like candelabras. It was a mess-- and he wasn’t even inside the building yet.

When he shoved past the front door, he found that the inside of the building wasn’t much better. It was dim and dusty, causing Hanzo to sneeze once and then cover his face with his coat as a makeshift mask. There was light coming from somewhere near the walls but wherever it was coming from was blocked by towering piles of stuff . Hanzo saw bits of furniture here and there-- at least one couch and a few tables were apparent-- but they were all covered in... things . Miscellaneous objects were piled with seemingly little to no order, stacked up to the rafters. There, too, things dangled: baskets, mobiles, bicycles, herbs, and clocks tested the strength of the wooden beams.

Hanzo carefully made his way through the only visible path in the mess: a narrow, winding route that eventually led up to a glass countertop similarly surrounded by nicknacks. This appeared to be the only surface in the entire building that wasn’t covered in odds and ends, but only because the glass display case below it was crammed with small objects. Some were on velvet backcloth, held up under dim lights for display: rings and figurines and wands and ornate lighters and charms and a million other small items sat available for inspection.

In contrast the rest of the store, the space behind the glass counter was barren. Not a single living thing stirred.

Hanzo stood for a long minute at the display, boredly looking at the case and the things around him while he waited to be noticed by the staff. He clutched a paper in his hand, rubbing a thumb over a creased corner as he wished that Genji could have recommended a more reputable shop. Something more normal . An artifacts repair workshop, at least, or maybe a good tome with some helpful information. Anything but this oppressive mess.

After what Hanzo deemed an acceptable wait, he knocked loudly on the glass and leaned over the counter, trying to peer into the back room. A curtain separated the two areas, but a sliver of light could be seen below the bottom hem of the red fabric.

“Hello?” Hanzo called out. He looked around again, knocking on the counter once more. “I require assistance.”

Suddenly a shadow blocked the light below the curtain, and the fabric was swept aside, almost blinding Hanzo after the dim shop. A figure stepped out, dusting off its hands and moving the curtain back in place. As the shadow stepped closer, Hanzo made out the shape of a man wearing a ratty flannel and jeans, grinning widely as he moved towards the counter. Hanzo leaned back, recovering his poise. It seemed the staff matched the shop.

“I am in need of help. I am looking for a Mister…” He looked at the paper Genji had given him. “McCree?”

“That’d be me, darlin’.” The man slapped his hands on his hips, standing proud. “But you can call me Jesse. This’s my shop. What can I do you for?”

Ignoring the turn of phrase, Hanzo dug into his pocket and pulled out a small figurine. “I was told you can analyze dark artifacts and break curses?”

“Sure, sure.” Jesse leaned on his elbows on the counter, peering at Hanzo intently. “I do a bit of that now and then. What’ve you got?”

Hanzo held up the object that had been causing him so much trouble. It was a dark wooden disk about three inches across with a design carved into it. It clicked dully against the glass as Hanzo gently set it on the countertop.

“I was cleaning out the attic of my ancestral home some months ago. This was among the items I recovered. However, it appears to be causing me some misfortune.”

“Care to elaborate?” That infuriating smile was still in place while the man peered over at the talisman without touching it. As Hanzo continued, the man reached into a drawer behind him and pulled out a set of leather gloves.

“I…” Hanzo hesitated. “I breed dragons. By the label left on this object’s case, it is supposed to help with fertility and forming close bonds. I thought it might help me with my business.” He pointed to the symbols on the disk. “It’s my family symbol-- an ouroboros of two dragons. I thought that placing it in my home might help them to reproduce, but they’ve been shy.” Hanzo scowled. “And irritable . They will not lay. And if they do not lay soon, the eggs will not be mature enough to hatch by the time the cold season hits.”

“Egg-shy, huh?” Jesse said conversationally. “Sounds like a right pickle. Let me get a good look at this thing.” Tugging on his gloves, Jesse carefully picked up the carving and looked it over. He reached under the counter to pull out a short short, flimsy-looking wand and tapped it lightly over different areas of the disk. When nothing happened, he frowned minutely and then pulled out a soft cloth, wiping over the whole of the object. He set it down again, staring expectantly.

Hanzo’s eyes flickered back and forth between his talisman and Jesse while the shop silently waited. Dust floated back and forth in the line of light still peeking out of the back room, and Hanzo coughed lightly.

“You should really clean up a bit,” Hanzo said, just to say something. The silence was getting to him. Jesse was still staring at the disk when he shrugged.

“It is how it is. It ain’t hurting anybody.”

“I beg to differ,” Hanzo said drily. “My allergies have been bothered since I turned past the bakery next door.”

“You know, you’re welcome to take your money elsewhere,” Jesse said lightly. He was still looking at the disk, fingers hovering above it. “I’m sure you could easily find someone just as qualified as me. You know. Out there. Out of all those artifacts specialists.”

Hanzo turned a bright red, cowed by his words. Genji had not mentioned the man’s attitude . “I apologize. I just-- is something supposed to be happening?”

Jesse flipped the disk over, scouring the back for something. Hanzo had looked the object over a million times and had yet to see anything special about it, but maybe this... specialist could.

“Well, not necessarily. But some of the diagnostics should turn something up. You mind if I hang onto this for a bit? Promise it’s in good hands.”

“I don’t know…” Hanzo said warily. “It’s a family heirloom. I...it is irreplaceable.”

“Gotcha. Here,” he said, pulling out a sheet of paper. “I can write a binding contract if you need it.” He pulled out an ink pad and, dabbing his thumb, made a mark on the form in front of him. “All I need is your signature and you’ll be protected from any dumb shit that happens while this thing is with me.”

“And if ‘dumb shit’ destroys the talisman?”

Jesse shrugged. “Then it was probably too dangerous to handle in the first place.”

That did make a certain kind of sense. Nodding, Hanzo leaned forward to sign the paper, his hand brushed Jesse’s. A smear of ink rubbed off on the back of his hand, and Jesse jerked away with an apology.

“Alright, and if you’ll just leave me some contact info, I’ll get to you as soon as I know what’s what with this beauty.” Handling it in his gloves, Jesse lifted the talisman and placed it into a cedar box, shutting it with a click. “You should get a call within a day or so.”

“Thank you.” Hanzo looked around the shop. “If I may ask...what is all this?”

“What the miscellaneous shit? Oh, you know,” Jesse said, shrugging. “Just things. Might come in handy one day.”

“...Right,” Hanzo said doubtfully.

“Hey now, I don’t go insulting your business. How do I know you got good dragons at your place?”

Hanzo smirked. “Because I am a Shimada. Didn’t Genji tell you? Dragons are what we do. ” And with that, he sauntered around the piles of papers and furniture and out the door.

The mid-morning light was almost blinding when Hanzo stepped out into the sun again. Noise had been muffled in the shop, but now the sounds of traffic and busy city life came to him once again. Hanzo took a deep breath of clean air and sighed.

At least he’d finally get to the bottom of this.

--

Hanzo started a fire when he got home. It blazed in his fireplace, logs crackling as Hanzo propped a cauldron over the coals. First business was to warm up his stone nest heaters; even if they were going to be shy, Hanzo had to at least try to get his dragons ready to breed.

He enjoyed a strong mug of grassy green tea while the stones heated, stirring in a generous spoonful of honey as he relaxed in an armchair in front of the fire. As he propped his feet up, he heard squeaky chirring purrs scampering across the room.

“Hello, children,” Hanzo said with quiet amusement as his dragons hopped up in his lap. They wriggled happily, chirping at him and kneading their talons into his thigh. Hanzo grimaced, sighing resignedly and unhooking them when they struggled to pull their claws out of the fabric of his pants. “You seem to be feeling better. What happened, sweetlings?”

The dragons purred and chirped as Hanzo pet down their glimmering backs, fingers running through their manes. The dragons were roughly the size of a ferret but longer, almost three quarters of a meter in length and covered in blue scales. One rolled on its back, and Hanzo pet the soft scales and bit of squish she had to her tummy.

“Are you eggy, little girl?” Hanzo cooed. “I bet you’d have a wonderful clutch this year.” He poked her belly. “If you’d just lay.” She chirped and wriggled about his lap, clearly enjoying herself. It was a relief from the line of tension she had been just yesterday.

Hanzo sat back in his darkened living room, savoring his drink and his dragons warm on his stomach while the fire dissipated the early morning chill. He had mere weeks left in the breeding season and it was imperative that he get the dragons-- his breeding stock and his pets-- to lay soon. His business depended on it.

When the nest stones were finally hot, Hanzo fished the rocks out with a pair of tongs. Inspecting them to make sure the runes were still marked well, Hanzo set them in an insulated basket and headed out to his corrals to conduct his mid-morning chores.

The structure of his extravagant barn lay behind his home, beyond a yard and paddock for the dragons to play outside when the mood suited them. It was far larger than his own home, providing plenty of room. Shutting the wide door behind him, Hanzo greeted the various breeds of dragon he kept with him-- three mating pairs, two juveniles, and a singular guest.

The Trapper... poor thing. It was recovering from a high-stress situation-- more like it was a rescue, feathers patchy and scales dry. Hanzo had been doing his best to treat it, but was having some trouble dealing with its hostility every time he tried to draw near. Hanzo knew that it had come from an abusive, neglectful man, and he wondered if his sex had something to do with it. Or maybe it was that damned talisman-- it had been particularly edgy when he’d had it on him. Bah. That’s why he was paying an “expert” for his “expert” advice.

After greeting the mated pairs in their large caged rooms and depositing the charmed stones in each of their nests-- they would stay hot for days now that he’d heated them-- he walked to the end of the hall and looked in on the Trapper. It was sleeping, curled up in the piles of blankets and soft tinder Hanzo had provided. His heart swelled with affection, making a mental note to come back later so as not to disturb its rest. He would give it a milk bath later in the day for its skin and perhaps an extra treat tonight at dinner. It was rare to see it so relaxed, and he wanted to reward it.

The female German Wyrm crawed at him as he made his rounds. She was quite large-- elephantine, really-- and she had her obsidian snout up to the bars of the door to her corral. Hanzo chuckled, petting her nose.

“And how are you today, Persephone? Having a good spring? Did you play outside today?” He laughed when she nipped at him affectionately, her sharp teeth barely grazing his forearm. He’d had Persephone and Hades the longest besides his pets-- they were his first official breeding pair, bought as juveniles. Hades could be moody, but Persephone was perpetually cheerful, often rubbing her huge body up against Hanzo as he did maintenance on their enclosure.

“You have been so irritable lately that I was beginning to wonder if you were getting sick,” Hanzo said, patting her neck. She gleamed in the sun coming through the bay doors, faint rainbow shimmers coming off the black scales. “Do you think you will have young this season?” He opened the door to her and Hades’ enclosure, walking around to inspect Persephone’s body.

She was a good weight for eggs. Hanzo had been monitoring her diet carefully-- lots of protein and even calcium supplements to make sure the eggs would have strong shells. If the state of the fat deposits in her armpits was anything to go by, she was exactly where she should be in preparation for young.

He patted her flank and took a peek around her to look at the area of the room she and Hades used as a nest. Sitting in a nice patch of sunlight was a large wooden structure containing a pile of dirty cushions and a medley of debris gathered from the surrounding woods. The stones Hanzo had brought with him lay in the center of it, steaming slightly in the chilly spring air. Hanzo could hear Hades moving around in the paddock outside, no doubt stretching his wings to warm up in the sun.

“Looks like someone was busy,” Hanzo teased. “What made you decide to bulk up the bedding now, my lady?” Persephone only growled affectionately and stretched her wings out, yawning before settling back in the bed with her fresh heat source.

Hanzo took one last look around the room before locking up the barn for the afternoon. He’d be back that night for dinners and to give the trapper its milk bath. He hummed as he walked, thinking that he might even slip in a potion for skin renewal while he was at it. He’d have to start brewing it up now, if that was the case. Did he even have the ingredients for it?

His thoughts were occupied as he slipped back into the house, dodging around his smallest dragons and dipping into the kitchen. Next to his teapot was another pot, this one larger and spotted with layers of old potions on the outside. He gathered his herbs and unguents and fired up the stove, pouring what he needed into the kettle and waiting for it all to steep before blending it.

He was halfway through the process when he heard his Athena spell system chime. Turning off the heat and praying it didn’t sour the brewing process, Hanzo hurriedly wiped his hands on a towel and headed to his main hall.

Settling in front of the big mirror he kept in the foyer, Hanzo traced the unlocking rune into the glass before standing back. Genji’s face appeared.

“Ah, brother! How is the business going? Settling back in okay?” Genji grinned at Hanzo through the mirror.

“Good enough. Not that I don’t appreciate a call, but I was in the middle of something. What do you need?”

“Nothing, nothing...just wondered if you went to see the man I told you about. Jesse does great work.”

“Yes, I did...He’s a very strange man, Genji. Why did you not warn me about the shop?”

“Oh, the clutter?” Genji laughed, waving it away with a gesture. “He’s just like that. Don’t worry about it too much; his skills are unparalleled. He busted the curse on that sword I got last year, remember?”

Hanzo’s eyebrows shot up. “That was him ? But that curse was over a century strong.”

“Yeah, and he wiped it clear off in no time at all. He’s good, brother. Trust me.”

Hanzo sighed. “Very well. I will trust him so long as it helps the dragons. Speaking of which,” he continued, “how is your scaly friend?”

Genji smiled and reached for something out of view, talking all the while.

“She is very good! We found her a sire last month; I believe she will lay her first clutch any day now. I plan to gift the offspring to the monks here. They would be great for companionship and pest control around the monastery.” Smiling gently, Genji held up a rather fat dragon-- no, not fat: heavy with eggs, protruding like large marbles from her tummy. She was a bright green, lighter on her stomach, with a yellow mane and little needles for teeth. She murred sleepily in Genji’s arms as he held her carefully.

“Oh, Genji, she looks wonderful,” Hanzo said wistfully. “I am sure they will be very strong.”

“They’d better be,” Genji laughed. “The father is a Nepalese Nightcrawler. I am hoping they get her temperament.”

--

They wrapped up their conversation quickly, and Hanzo moved back into his kitchen to finish his potion. He spent the remainder of the afternoon brewing up various pots of products: supplements, cures for scale rot, immune boosters, and even a simple sleep aid just for himself. He’d been tired lately, his sleep fitful. If he had to rely on potions for a good night’s sleep, so be it.

After a light dinner, Hanzo moved into the barn and drew up a large tub, filling it with goats’ milk and the skin remedy. He tapped the runes on the large metal tub, letting it all heat up carefully. Everything had to be perfect for the Tenochititlan Trapper to tolerate it. Stressing out that particular beast would be...most unwise.

“Alright,” Hanzo said boldly, walking up to the door of the Trapper’s enclosure. “Let’s get you a nice bath, hm? You’ll feel much better afterwards.”

It hissed at him.

“Don’t be like that,” Hanzo chided, murmuring to try and soothe the beast.

He wrangled it as gently as he could into the tub, petting its writhing body and cooing gently all the while. It seemed to settle for the most part once it was in the bath-- it even fluffed its feathers and gave a single deep squawk of satisfaction-- but startled when Hanzo’s Athena system chimed. The thrashing left Hanzo covered in milk and skin potion, his clothing soaked and his hair dripping.

He shucked his shirt immediately; it would be ruined now, and he’d have a hell of a time trying to get the Trapper calm again. Genji’d probably forgotten something trivial he wanted to ask Hanzo, as he often did, never mind that Hanzo didn’t have all the time in the world to indulge him with. He’d called so many times, and complained of Hanzo’s unfailing unavailability so often, that Hanzo had finally broken and installed another mirror in the actual barn.

Hanzo suffered the chiming as long as he could, fighting to calm the trapper while the tone rang and rang. When at last the dragon was some semblence of calm, Hanzo stalked up to the mirror fully intent on chewing Genji out. He swiped at his face and body irritably-- his beard alone was still oily from the goopy potion-- and scowled at the glass. His mouth was half full of a reprimand when the visual sparked on.

He was startled  out of his fury entirely. It was not his brother on the line. Instead, the shopkeeper from that morning-- Jesse, if he remembered correctly-- greeted him with a faltering smile.

“May I help you?” Hanzo said awkwardly. He hadn’t anticipated greeting a stranger without his shirt on.

“Damn, sorry!” Jesse turned away from his mirror, one hand over his face. “Didn’t mean to interrupt nothin’.”

“I was in the middle of a bath,” Hanzo said. “It’s good you called; I was having some trouble.”

“I...yeah?” Jesse peeked out from behind his hands. “Did you... want my help?”

Hanzo scowled. Was this man fishing for compliments now? “That’s why I came to you, wasn’t it?”

A strange expression twisted Jesse’s face. “Was it? You didn’t seem to find me much appealing when we met earlier.”

Hanzo scraped a layer of oily potion off his chest with a grimace as he replied. “Yes, well, I wasn’t dealing with this little problem then, was I?”

“Look, Hanzo, I’m flattered, but-- Is this really--?”

“My Tenochititlan Trapper is still agitated, but that’s nothing out of the norm.” Hanzo lifted his damp shirt up to wipe his face, sighing and pulling a lock of soaked hair out of his eyes. He ignored the distressed squeak coming from the mirror. “Trying to get it to bathe is an ordeal and highly stressful for us both. The sooner you can help me, the better.”

“... Oh .” Jesse looked flustered, this was sure. Hanzo raised an eyebrow.

“Did you have a reason to call me?”

Jesse cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, an awkward, businesslike smile coming over his features again. “Yeah, actually. I just wanted to let you know that I looked the talisman over and I can’t find anything wrong with it.” He scratched at his scruff. “As far as I can tell, it’s doing what it’s designed to do.”

Hanzo scowled and threw his soaked shirt to the side with a wet slap . He could deal with it when he cleaned up the barn later. He could clean it up just like he cleaned up every mess in this godforsaken hole he’d crawled in. “I can assure you it’s not doing what it’s supposed to . My dragons were in excellent spirits this morning when I came back. The only difference between now and the last few weeks has been the presence of that talisman.”

Jesse’s sigh was resigned. “Well, if you’re really set on that theory, I can always come out and look at the work site. It’s definitely possible that there’re other factors or that it’s interacting with something on your property. I’d’ve checked that first with how this whole thing’s going, but house calls are always more complicated.”

Hanzo paused. He was wary of letting a stranger onto the property. Personal privacy aside, visitors could compromise his security. Dragon breeding was a competitive business-- Hanzo did not doubt that there would be people more than willing to pay for access to his property and his dragons, and he had no guarantee that Jesse wouldn’t go and mindlessly chatter about Hanzo’s setup or techniques.

“I don’t know…” he said cautiously. “I’d need you to sign a waver. The Australian Frillneck spits acid.”

“And the rest of them still have teeth, I wager.” Jesse nodded. “I gotcha. Let me sign whatever and I’ll head on over. When’s good for you?”

“Perhaps tomorrow afternoon? The sooner this is dealt with the better.”

“Yeah, I think I can squeeze that in. Got an umbrella to deal with in the morning but that should be wrapped up by lunch time.”

“Excellent.” Hanzo heard a squawk from behind him, and turned to see the Trapper splashing in its milk bath and using one clawed leg to scratch at the patchy feathers on its neck. Hanzo groaned and looked skyward as if searching for divine help. “ Please , Itzi, do not test me today.”

“Itzi?” Jesse asked with an amused quirk to his lips.

“Itzcoatl. An Aztec emperor. Itzi is native to the area.” Hanzo hitched up his soaked pants and moved to soothe the dragon, squatting until he was level with the bath so he could scoop handfuls of the milk bath over its scales and feathers as he talked over his shoulder. Again, he ignored a distressed noise from the mirror. It was probably just spell feedback of some kind. “He is not very regal at the moment.” Hanzo grimaced as the dragon splashed him again.

Steadfastly ignoring the drips of water, milk, and potion running down his torso and face, Hanzo attempted to save his dignity by propping his hands on his hips and facing the mirror head-on.

“I’d like to get back to this, if you don’t mind. I will see you tomorrow afternoon?”

The shopkeeper nodded. He was a tad flushed, and Hanzo grumbled internally, mentally preparing to reschedule if the curse breaker called in sick the next day.

“Goodbye, Jesse.” And with that, Hanzo tapped the mirror again, ending the communication spell. Once again, he saw only himself, looking like some kind of milk-drowned roadkill and covered in gleaming, oily potion.

“Itzi, you rascal,” Hanzo said, returning to the task at hand with a forced note of cheerfulness. “If you do not bathe, you will not get your gizzards tonight. Now, let’s get that potion rubbed in.”

--

Jesse showed up at exactly noon the next day. Hanzo’s yard, though sparsely planted, was sunny enough, and Hanzo waited patiently in a worn chair by the front door, small dragon on his lap. He was just wondering if he’d have to reschedule after all when the artifacts specialist stepped out of thin air with a sweep of fabric and a hint of smoke.

“Dad’s old serape still has a bit of a kick to the threads,” He said at Hanzo’s disturbed expression. “Lets me get around a little easier. Still has its limits!” he clarified when Hanzo looked suspicious. “Can’t go anywhere I’m not welcome. Glad to see it let me in your yard, Mister Shimada.”

Hanzo nodded. “Of course. Are you feeling better today?”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Feeling better?”

“You were quite red when we spoke yesterday.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Curiously, Jesse turned a vibrant pink once again. Hanzo decided to dismiss the subject; as long as he didn’t get Hanzo sick as well, it didn’t matter. He just needed the man’s help, not his life story.

“Well…” Hanzo said cooly. “How do these visits usually work?”

“Ahem,” Jesse started, clearing his throat, “Generally you show me the area you’re having trouble with and we work backwards from there. Where’s the problem worst?”

Wary, Hanzo paused. “The dragons are agitated every time I come near them with the talisman. Even in my private quarters-- as long as it’s with me they are irritable.”

“Holy hell-- you keep actual dragons in your house ?”

Hanzo blushed as he realised how it sounded. “Just a couple,” he admitted reluctantly. “They are...special.”

“They don’t, I don’t know...burn anything down?”

“They are more likely to play with embers than spit them,” Hanzo said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Not every dragon breed is destructive. Many have practical uses.”

Jesse smiled. “I get it, I get it. Lead the way, hon’. Show me what you got.”

Ignoring the endearment, Hanzo turned and beckoned for Jesse to follow him.

“Let me show you how a real business is run.”

Jesse followed Hanzo around the back of his house, through the tidy vegetable garden and across the wide yard towards the barn.

Jesse whistled as they approached. “Now that’s a barn. Damn, Shimada, how big are these things?”

Hanzo smirked. “Big enough.”

A great rolling grumble greeted the two of them when Hanzo slid the massive barn door along its track. They walked down the hallway, cabinets on either side of them filled with everything Hanzo needed to care for his stock. The dragons themselves were mostly docile, peering with curious eyes through the bars of their paddocks. Jesse didn’t even bother to hide his curiosity, staring wide-eyed into every enclosure they passed. He stared in wonder at the high ceilings, the clear skylights, the well-worn floorboards. Everything was clean-swept and neat. Hanzo smirked to himself; this was how a business should be run.

The barn was far from silent, despite the peaceful atmosphere put out by the ample light and space. All down the long hall of the barn Hanzo and Jesse heard coos and grumbles, chirps and growls resonating so deep and thorough that Hanzo could feel them in his ribcage. It was the kind of noise that set Hanzo on edge-- the kind of noise that wasn’t quite right, despite the familiarity of it. Hanzo paused to stroke Persephone’s curiously probing nose through the bars of her door as they passed.

“Each dragon-- or mated pair-- has its own enclosure with enrichment items, food and water, and access to an outdoor area. They are allowed free reign of the property within reason at certain times, but never different breeds at the same time. I have differently aged stock,” Hanzo explained, “and it wouldn’t do for them to interact. Some breeds are cannibalistic.”

Jesse grimaced. “Yikes.”

“Indeed.” Hanzo smiled at Persephone, who nuzzled her huge head up against Hanzo’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over, before turning a shrewd eye on Jesse. She sized him up with one purple eye, and Hanzo laughed at her protective nature. “Not Persephone, though. She’s a good girl.”

Persephone snorted smoke at Jesse to illustrate, clearly still not comfortable with the stranger.

Giving her one last pat, Hanzo led Jesse further down the hallway.

He stopped at the end of the wide hall. His mirror hung on the wall beside a closed door, dormant for lack of the Athena spell running through it. Hanzo cracked the door open for Jesse to peer inside.

“Dang, partner. This makes my shop look tidy !”

Hanzo grit his teeth. His office was his secret shame, full of stacks of papers and files, but they were at least organized by month. The fact that there were years’ worth of paperwork here was of little consequence.

“I have been meaning to clean up,” Hanzo admitted grudgingly. “But I was keeping the talisman in here for safekeeping when I noticed the change in my animals’ demeanor.”

“You do anything else new? New, uh, filing system, furniture, renovations?”

Hanzo shook his head. “No. I got back from Japan, unpacked, and came out here to check on the dragons. They were immediately agitated.”

Jesse looked around at the paperwork, then turned back to stare down the long hall of the barn as if considering something. “Who watched them while you were gone?”

“My brother. But they love Genji.” Hanzo’s brow furrowed in consternation. “He treats them almost as well as I do.”

“Did you do anything new while you were gone?”

“No.” Hanzo stared forlornly at the piles of paperwork sitting on his desk. “I spent the entire trip clearing out an old family home. It’s just me and Genji now, so of course Genji has decided he would rather travel than deal with ancient relics.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows. “No one else? Cousins, children, spouses?”

Hanzo shook his head minutely, eyes locked on the floor. He fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose-- yet another headache was brewing. He would collapse gratefully in bed tonight.

“There are only myself and my small list of associates left to handle the family business now. I can’t trust anyone else with the generations’ worth of information I have, and as of yet I haven’t taken on an apprentice. Genji is... unsuitable .”

“Damn, Hanzo, but if that ain’t the saddest thing I’ve heard in a long while.” Jesse tipped his hat, looking around the building. “I’ll do my best to help you figure this thing out, I promise.”

Hanzo was quiet. “Thank you.”

Shutting off the lights, Hanzo made to lead Jesse back towards the front of the barn. They were stopped by a sudden screeching and the heavy weight of a body hitting the enclosure door next to them, rattling the door on its hinges.

Jesse yelped and ducked out of the way as a long, talon-bearing leg swiped out through one of the bars on the door, narrowly missing his face. The look of panic on his face was complete, but Hanzo’s instincts had been formed by years of reacting to precisely this kind of thing.

Hanzo rushed forward, grabbing the scaly leg to still its attack. He immediately stuffed a hand through the bars to grab at the back of the Tenochititlan Trapper’s head.

“ No, Itzi!” Calling back to Jesse while he wrestled to get the dragon under control, he said, “He is not usually so--” Ducking under a patchy wing, Hanzo cursed and made to go into the enclosure itself. “--so aggressive .”

Hanzo managed to get the situation under control, sending Itzi out into his paddock and shutting the door behind him, but Jesse was clearly shaken. Hanzo dusted his hands off and wiped sweat off his brow.

“I apologize.” Hanzo looked out towards the paddock with a tired expression-- the face of a man who has dealt with the same problem over and over again. “I really thought he was calming down. He was much more agreeable yesterday afternoon.”

Jesse had a guilty look on his face. At Hanzo’s perceptive eyebrow raise, he grinned guiltily and fished in his pocket for something.

“I ain't been completely honest with you today, Hanzo,” he said as he dug in his pockets.

Hanzo stiffened, fearing the worst. Had Jesse brought in poison or been recording their walk through the paddock?

Instead of a weapon or a spell however, Jesse just pulled out the same wooden disk Hanzo had brought him the day before, holding it up so that its polished surface shone in the soft sunshine coming through the skylights above. This time, Hanzo noted, the curse breaker didn’t handle it with a glove or wand-- it sat innocently in his bare palm...as if it hadn’t caused him such heartbreak .

“I wanted to see what would happen if I brought it in for myself.”

Hanzo’s growing fury finally reached its limits, bursting from his chest in a tangle of words.

“I told you what happened around it!” he shouted, slapping Jesse’s chest and shoving him backwards. “You would purposefully upset my animals like this? Are you even a professional?” He shoved Jesse again, harder this time. He wanted this interloper out. Jesse stumbled as he fled, hands held out placatingly as Hanzo advanced on him.

“It’s not what you think, Hanzo,” Jesse said imploringly. “It’s-- it’s part of the job, I swear. And I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I’m glad I brought it with me.”

“You’re what ?” Hanzo snarled. His hands clenched at his sides.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jesse said. He was still backing towards the door, but he stopped on the threshold and held out the talisman as a peace offering. Hanzo snatched it out of his hand-- if only to take back any leverage this offender had over him. Jesse cleared his throat once Hanzo had taken it back and stopped shoving him. “But...you might wanna be somewhere more comfortable for this conversation.”

--

They were sitting down in Hanzo’s living room, fire crackling away-- sans cauldron-- with two heavy mugs of tea. Jesse was holding his seemingly more for warmth than as a beverage, but Hanzo sipped at his as Jesse fidgeted with the wooden talisman, turning it over and over in his hands as he seemed to be considering his words. Hanzo had begrudgingly given it back to him at the shopkeeper’s begging. It killed Hanzo to admit that he didn’t know a thing about it.

“You said you have a couple of critters in here?” Jesse said, fidgeting with his cup.

Hanzo nodded stiffly. “Two of a small breed. They are more companions than stock, however. They are most likely wreaking havoc in the laundry room right now.” His grim facade cracked a little as he thought of his pets, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Jesse grinned. “Sounds mighty domestic.”

Hanzo shrugged and hid a wan smile. “I’ve had them since I was a child. They were my first dragons.” Then his smile turned more sincere, soft and small as it was. “They will probably be my last, when I eventually leave the business.”

Jesse hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you, uh, have any other...people? See anyone? I know you said you don’t have much family left, but do you at least get out?”

Hanzo shifted awkwardly. “I...have business acquaintances I talk with sometimes. And I am on good terms with my suppliers. Though I fail to see how this is related.”

“It is, I swear. So your social circle is, uh...let’s go with cozy. Got any hobbies?

“Some. Archery. Leatherworking. I like a decent cup of tea, as you can see. Why is this so important?” Hanzo said with suspicion. “Because I am the only one running my business and tending to the animals, I work most days of the year. I don’t have time for casual interests. It’s either my life, or no life.” He shook his head. “The trip to my ancestral home was the closest to a vacation I have had in nearly a decade.”

“Look, Hanzo...I don’t know how to say this. Because you really seem to know what you’re doing here. The animals sure seem happy-- most of ‘em at least-- and they trust you. I haven’t run into someone so devoted to what they do in a damn long time. So that makes this pretty hard to say.”

He paused again, and Hanzo sat up in his seat, back rigid as he waited for what was obviously going to be bad news.

“Well,” Jesse said hesitantly. “ You might be upsetting the dragons.”

“ Excuse me?” Hanzo bristled, hands clenching around his cup.

“The talisman-- it’s doin’ what it’s supposed to do. Which is to say, it’s helping with relationships.“ He turned the talisman over so that it was dragons-side-up and slid it over across the table so Hanzo could handle it. “Old magic. Amplifies emotional radiance. If you were feeling sunshine and roses, the dragons would feel it, most like. I don’t think it’s my place to tell you what you’re feeling, but-- you’re probably not at your best. Not like this. Not if its affecting everything this badly.”

Ashen-faced, Hanzo abruptly stood up. The room was closing in on him. Suddenly the fire was too hot, his tea bitter, the sitting room muggy and uninviting.

“I am not-- I am not lonely, ” Hanzo gasped. “I am busy. I--I--” Face falling, Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. The same headache he’d started building in the barn was gaining traction, pounding behind his eyes. “There must be another explanation.”

Jesse opened his mouth to reply, and in fact looked like he wanted to stand and comfort Hanzo, but he was suddenly interrupted by chirruping and scrabbling coming from a door down the hall. Hanzo swiftly stepped down the hall, away from the Jesse, the talisman, and the situation as a whole.

When he opened the door and stepped into his laundry room, he had to laugh, though the chuckle was weak. His two smallest charges were struggling to get out of the dryer. The door was hinged partly closed, blocked by a towering basket of laundry. Their little claws clicked against the metal door and their squeaks of distress were shrill. They must have jumped in to investigate and gotten quite the surprise when the door shut behind them. Laughing brokenly, Hanzo opened the dryer and drew his dragons out, scooping their long bodies into his arms. They wound themselves around his shoulders, nipping at his cheeks and fingers and chirring at him inquisitively, and it was all Hanzo could do not to cry into their manes.

After a long few minutes of deep breathing, Hanzo heard soft footfalls on the floorboards behind him. He flinched when a wide hand settled on his shoulder.

“Listen. Hanzo. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Hanzo held his breath against another bout of shaking. He was sure his nose would be red by now, his eyes wet. He refused to turn around, instead obsessively petting the dragons in his arms.

“No…no, you are right. It’s probably all my fault.” He bit his lip with near enough force to tear it. “I have failed. Business, family. All of it. It was pointless to try in the first place.”

“You ain’t failed nobody, Hanzo.” Jesse said sternly. “Remember that. You do your damnedest to do right by these animals every day. Hell, even Genji has told me about the stuff you go through for them. Sorting chicken gizzards by the case? Who does that? Someone that loves what they do, that’s who.” Jesse patted Hanzo firmly, as if trying to shake him back to his senses. “You just forgot to take care of yourself in the meantime, maybe.” Jesse reached into his bag, drawing out a business card before reaching over Hanzo’s shoulder and stuffing it into his breast pocket.

Hanzo still didn’t turn around. He locked his eyes on the dim corner of his laundry room. A cobweb lingered along the bottom of one shelf, a spider making itself at home next to his detergent and spare light bulbs. One of the dragons chewed on the edge of the business card sticking out of his pocket.

“I said I’d help you fix this, and I mean it. If that means getting a little more involved than usual, well...I’m up for it.” After a pat on the back, Hanzo turned just in time to see Jesse raise his serape, preparing to wrap it back around himself and disappear from whence he’d came.

Hanzo couldn’t stop himself-- one hand darted out to snag the corner of Jesse’s shirt.

“Wait. I…” He swallowed thickly, eyes frantically searching Jesse’s face for any hints of insincerity. “This is a monumental burden to take on.” He did not call out the fact that by ‘this’ he meant ‘himself.’  “You are really willing to… to help? How?”

Jesse nodded. “Absolutely. You let me worry about the how, you hear me? We’re gonna get you feeling better, come hell or high water. I bet your dragons would love to see you take a break now and then. Wouldn’t you, little fella?” Hanzo watched in teary amusement as Jesse reached out a finger to pet the dragon currently plopped over Hanzo’s shoulder, only to get a set of tiny teeth gnawing on his fingertip with a hiss. Jesse shook his hand out with a yelp.

“That’d be the talisman, I reckon.”

Hanzo nodded minutely. “They are usually rather harmless.”

“Then I’ll see you in a little bit? Give me a call, Hanzo, and we’ll figure this out. I’m here for you. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

And with that, Jesse swung the last wrap of his serape over his shoulder and winked out of existence, leaving Hanzo alone in his cold utility room clutching his armfuls of distressed dragon.

Chapter Text

It took Hanzo three days to call Jesse. In those three days, he kept the talisman as far away from his barn as he could manage without chucking the damn thing into the sea. He didn’t even touch it, opting to leave it on his coffee table where Jesse had sat it days prior. Soba and Udon wouldn’t go near near it. Soba hissed at it once before she scampered out of the room, and Udon decided to snub it altogether.

He worked. It was all he could think to do. He couldn’t bring himself to call Genji, because how do you break it to your brother-- your brother who is currently on the other side of the world-- that you’re hurting your dragons by being lonely? Genji would no doubt have rushed home, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Hanzo wanted Genji to travel like he’d planned to when they were young. His stay with the monks in Nepal had been particularly beneficial for him and Hanzo planned to keep working so that Genji could fulfill his dreams. Even if it meant setting aside his own.

Hanzo tried not to wallow, instead taking to his daily tasks with relish. He threw himself into cleaning the barn, fixing fences, and tilling over the soil in his neglected vegetable patch-- he even started to file the backlog of paperwork he’d left in his office. He barely looked at his mirrors, knowing that his fingers would itch to call Jesse even if his mind was still in a jumble.

He was embarrassed. Having someone tell him to his face that he was lonely seemed so... pathetic. Jesse was no doubt only helping because he pitied Hanzo.

Eventually, crestfallen by Persephone’s decision to destroy her recently-built nest, he sat himself in front of his home mirror and hesitated, one hand hovering above the glass.

He caught his eyes in its reflection. There were deep bags beneath his eyes, his cheeks gaunt and beard unkempt. The shaved sides of his head were starting to grow in, reminding him that he’d need to pick up a new razor blade next time he made a run into town. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days-- and in fact, this was nearly true. He’d napped fitfully a few times, waking after a scant few hours with a sense of dread heavy in his chest. It was like he could hear the talisman at night, whispering to him that he was alone for a reason and that this was unfixable. A smart of him bristled bitterly at the accusation-- if he was alone for a reason, it had to be for a good one.

So now-- in defiance of that little voice in the back of his head-- Hanzo ran his finger across the glass in the shape of the runes needed to activate the Athena spell.

“Athena, please contact Jesse McCree.”

The mirror swam darkly for a few moments before an image cleared on its surface: Jesse, apparently in the back room of his shop, tinkering with what looked like a mechanical spider.

“Jesse?”

Startled, Jesse straightened up, looking at his mirror. He swept a swathe of unruly hair out of his face before speaking.

“Hanzo! Glad you called. I was just thinking about your, uh, situation.” He removed his gloves, shifting the glass so that it faced him more directly. Hanzo blinked against disorientation when Jesse reached up and wiped a bit of dust off the surface. “Any thoughts on my offer?”

“I...yes.” Hanzo swallowed nervously. “I am very grateful, and I...would like to accept. It might be good for me. And the dragons,” he added hastily.

Jesse chuckled. “The dragons. Of course.” Hanzo flushed. “Well, I have a couple ideas. You got anything against surprises?”

Hanzo shook his head. Fighting the growing knot of dread in his chest, he answered calmly. “Not in particular, as long as it is a pleasant one.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like this one. It’s right up your alley, and an easy start. We can actually go tonight, if you’re up for it.”

“Tonight?” Hanzo raised his eyebrows. “That’s...very soon.” Very sudden. Hanzo liked to know a few days ahead of time, just so he could plan around it. But he also knew himself-- if it did not happen now, it would not happen at all.

“Well, you said you wanted this dealt with quick, right? No time like the present. I can come over and take you from your place, if that’s okay with you? I know the venue pretty well.”

“That sounds agreeable.” Hanzo fidgeted in front of his mirror. “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”

--

Jesse showed up at a quarter to six, unwrapping his serape in Hanzo’s kitchen with a flourish.

“Ready to go?” he said with a wide smile.

“In a moment,” Hanzo replied, not looking away from his cutting board. Stacked around him were huge metal tubs of various meats, and he was busily cutting away at more. “I was not expecting you so early. I need to do evening meals before we go.”

“Sounds okay. Want me to wait here?”

Hanzo paused, thinking of Soba and Udon, who were currently distracted in his bedroom with a pile of socks. They’d been irritable all afternoon, wrestling with each other in front of the hearth. Then he thought of the rest of his house, with its odds and ends and pieces of himself he wasn’t used to showing people. Who knew what Jesse would do while he was gone? More worryingly, what would he think?

“I would rather you join me, actually. If you don’t mind,” he added hastily.

Jesse nodded, following Hanzo through his back door and across the yard towards the barn complex when beckoned. He carried-- after some prompting-- a container of meat scraps nearly as big as he was broad. Hanzo had a similar one filled with fish.

“We will feed the Snappers first,” Hanzo said decisively. “They eat the earliest. The others have already been given afternoon meals and won’t eat again until much later in the evening.”

Leading Jesse over to a giant metal door in the back of the barn, Hanzo slid the massive door along its tracks, revealing a large coldroom.

“You can drop the meat here; we’ll only be using the fish for now.”

Jesse hefted the tub of meat onto a shelf. Hanzo watched with a strange satisfaction as Jesse’s broad back flexed under the strain of the heavy load. It was nice to be able to look, he decided. Even if there was no intent behind it.

Jesse clapped his hands, rubbing them together to get the chill out of them. “Alright, where to?”

Hanzo led him over to a cage door near the front of the barn. He peered in: two deep crimson dragons rested over their nest, right where the stones he’d dropped in a few days ago would be. Hanzo smiled in satisfaction. The dragons perked up as he opened the door with a clatter.

Hanzo shook the bucket of fish with a mighty slopping noise.

“Sh-sh-shush,” Hanzo called, clicking his tongue at the long, red dragons. “Dinner, you two.”

Hanzo walked over to a trough by the far wall, dropping in the mixture of whole fish and chum for the Snappers. They growled and wound their bodies around him first, though, tails slapping aggressively against the ground when they spotted Jesse beyond their closed doors.

“So what do these things do?” Jesse asked nervously. He was standing a couple feet away from the door, hands gripping the strap of his bag.

“They are most commonly used among coastal professions, namely fishing vessels,” Hanzo said, watching happily as the Snappers headed for their trough. “See their slender necks? They are used in a similar fashion to how cormorants are used in China, but are more useful out at remote sea locations compared to cormorants’ river or lake usage.” He stroked along the sleek scales of their backs as the Snappers dug their snouts into their bounty. Unlike Persephone’s fat, pronounced ridges, these dragons had wingless streamlined bodies that ended in thick, alligator-like tails. “They are excellent hunters and are frequently used to locate large schools of fish. As long as they get to eat their fill they are more than happy to share.”

“They got names?”

Hanzo laughed. “Yes.” He pointed. “The female is Bodil, and the male is Burr. They were just hatchlings when they came to me.” He patted Bodil’s flank. She was nearly 25 feet long, with a body that was wider than it was tall. “Snappers have large clutches-- usually they’d lay in marshes or sand-- so they are one of my better sellers.”

“That explains the mess over there, then,” Jesse said conversationally. He nodded at the lived-in corner of the room the dragons had slithered over from.

Hanzo glanced at the nest in the back of the room. Carefully walking across the concrete floor-- muddy even though he’d scrubbed it earlier in the day-- he inspected their nest. It was comprised of reeds, cattails, kelp, and driftwood; all components he’d had to specially order since he lived in a fairly temperate wooded area.

“It looks average to me,” Hanzo said with a shrug.

“Well, it stinks,” Jesse complained. “Like old seawater.”

Hanzo shrugged. “Probably because that’s what it’s saturated with. There’s some mud, too.” He slopped a hand through the massive nest, searching for any remains or signs of eggs.

Nothing. His face twisted up in frustration.

“Okay, buddy, you might wanna change before we leave. Didn’t anticipate the fish, and you’re gonna want to smell a mite fresher where we’re going.”

“Is it that important?” Hanzo asked, sighing heavily. Of course there would be effort involved.

“Oh, yeah. You wanna make a good impression on these folks.”

Hanzo grumbled, but assented. He hated trying to make small talk with strangers.

As they passed back down the hallway, a mighty roar wracked Hanzo’s body. He spared a glance for the thick glass door he had in front of one specific enclosure. Inside, a stocky wyvern stood twelve feet tall on two legs, wings fanned as it hopped from foot to foot.

Hanzo snorted a laugh when Jesse flinched and jumped back a foot. “Don’t mind her. A juvenile African Wyvern. She shows off for every visitor.”

Wide-eyed, Jesse stared. “She’s huge ,” he gasped.

“Ha! Hardly. Adults of her breed are easily twenty-five feet tall and capable of carrying off elephants. She is quite petite.”

“What’s she doing here , Hanzo?” Jesse was pressed up against the glass, eyes wide.

“Recovering,” Hanzo said quietly. “She was nearly gored by a rhino. See the stitching on her belly?” Hanzo pointed to a thick seam of stitches in the middle of the wyvern’s stomach. “They will heal and fall out as she sheds layers of skin. In the meantime I am planning to train her to take a saddle.”

“Are you fucking serious? ”

“Oh, yes.” Hanzo nodded enthusiastically. “She would be a great aid for someone in bush country or on the plains. Fast, and intelligent as well.”

“Dang.” Jesse tipped his hat back in astonishment. “That’s fuckin’ crazy, Hanzo, I want you to know that. You’re insane.”

Hanzo beamed, feeling a bit flush with the unexpected praise. Not that he wasn’t proud of his work, but to hear someone compliment him was... heady. “I will take that as a compliment.”

Stepping past the wyvern’s enclosure, Hanzo led Jesse back into the house and had him wait while he went to change.

“I’ll just be moment,” Hanzo said. He paused at the door to his bedroom. “Just...try not to touch anything.”

“Not a thing, I promise. Take your time, spruce yourself up a little.”

But now Hanzo had a dilemma. Most of his clothing was for work: sturdy, if a little worn. Button-downs for meetings, reinforced coats and raggedy under-shirts for dragon-handling.

The rest of his time-- his restful evenings-- was spent in pajamas, if not mostly nude. He hadn’t worn many casual things in months, and even then only at Genji’s insistence. That had all but stopped when Genji left to travel.Hard as it was to swallow, Hanzo had fallen into a rut.

Towers of the miscellaneous things he’d brought home from Japan filled his closet, leaving Hanzo with a mess to clean up when he had to pull them all out. It took him some long minutes to fish around in the back of his closet for a pair of jeans that weren’t too ripped up, though they were rather worn-in at the knees and there were a few holes here and there from his smallest charges’ teeth. Paired with a soft cotton v-neck and a comb through his hair, and Hanzo deemed himself presentable enough for a casual function, whatever Jesse had decided to set upon him.

Jesse was red again when Hanzo stepped out. He was locked in place, Soba winding her long body through and around his ankles and nipping at his pantsleg occasionally. He didn’t seem to know what to do with Udon, who was in his arms and digging his snout into Jesse’s armpit.

“Stop that, you two,” Hanzo chided. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“They’re fine,” Jesse said amicably. “Not biting me this time, anyway. They got names? I was just gonna call them Spaghetti and Meatball what with the way they’re sticking to my ribs.”

“They are named Soba and Udon.” Hanzo scowled at Jesse’s chuckle. “No, do not laugh, I was three years old when they were given to me. I was not as creative as I am now. Besides, that’s not nearly as bad as my brother’s.”

“Yeah?” there was a twinkle in Jesse’s eye. “Genji’s never told me his friend’s name. Mostly he just kept her around his shoulders when we met up.”

“Egg.” Hanzo. “He named her Egg. Specifically Tamago-chan, which is honestly very good considering he was even younger than I was when they gave her to him.”

Jesse lit up with glee. “Oh, lord, I’m gonna tease him about this as long as I live!” He laughed as Hanzo did his best to disentangle the dragons from Jesse’s clothing. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

With a final tug, Hanzo pulled Soba’s small talon free and let her scamper off to make trouble elsewhere. He patted himself down.

“I am ready to leave. Where are we going?”

Jesse winked. “That’s a surprise, my friend. Now huddle close, this thing ain’t built for two grown men.” Then he swept his serape around the two of them and Hanzo was overcome with darkness.

In the brief moment they traveled, Hanzo felt a sensation of rushing air in his face and cozy warmth around his shoulders. Jesse pressed to his side for the briefest moment, hand settled on the small of Hanzo’s back. It was the closest Hanzo had been to another human in a very long time, and he flushed under the cover of the brief darkness around them.

In an instant they were standing in the middle of a dim street. The sun was starting to set, making the cobblestones beneath them glow a flat orange in the wintery light.

Hanzo looked around with interest. They were on a narrow street lined by rustic-looking shops similar to Jesse’s own: cafes, hobby shops, and thrift stores were filled by slow evening crowds winding down for the night. As he watched, a streetlamp lit itself, bringing his attention to a glowing window: a bookstore across the way was filled with people.

Jesse unwrapped the two of them, but his hand lingered for the slightest second on Hanzo’s back before gently pushing him forward. Hanzo stonily followed Jesse into the building, bracing himself for what was to come. A rush of warm air and the smell of old paper hit his nose, mingled with coffee and the murmur of conversation. A couple people looked up when they walked in-- one waving to Jesse-- but for the most part the little crowd kept up undisturbed.

Hanzo turned a curious eyebrow towards Jesse’s conspiratorial grin.

“A meeting of professionals, darlin’. Easy enough for a man of business like yourself.”

Hanzo peered around the tall room. The walls were far higher than the building should have permitted and were filled to the rafters with books. Interspersed between them were armchairs and tables, with a small cafe bar crammed into one corner. Multitudes of magical lights winked in every corner and crack, bringing the place into a warm light despite the early spring chill threatening the evening outside.

People perched on seats everywhere in quiet conversation-- at least two dozen, though most of them were deep enough in their talks that they didn’t notice the new arrivals. Jesse patted Hanzo on the back and then left to greet the woman that had waved at him with a loud “Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t the great Fareeha Amari! How’ve you been, sweetheart?” leaving Hanzo alone at the counter.

Hanzo ordered a hot tea from the spritely barista and hovered at the counter for a long minute before quietly scooting behind Jesse. The curse-breaker had moved on from his initial greetings and into a boisterous conversation with an intimidatingly large man. The two were smiling openly and laughing at something Hanzo didn’t understand when Hanzo made his way over-- the giant was pointing at a fresh-looking scar on one massive bicep and Jesse was chortling at whatever story accompanied it. Jesse gave Hanzo a nod of encouragement and nudged his shoulder, giving him a push towards the crowd.

Hanzo’s first instinct was to scowl. He hated public events; he hated crowds. He was much more at home in his barn with his reasonably intelligent animals than he was in a group of reasonably unintelligent humans.

He glanced at the man Jesse was talking to-- the scars, the teeth-- and thought, Well, mostly humans.

He studied the people around him. Perhaps there were a few intelligent individuals in here somewhere.

Hanzo hovered, clutching his mug, for a long awkward moment before the woman Jesse had initially greeted caught his eye and waved him over to her cluster of armchairs.

She had the same twinkle of mischief in her eyes that Jesse had, and Hanzo almost asked if  they were related before the woman’s thickly accented voice burst forth in a joyous rush.

“I am Fareeha Amari,” she said in a rush, sticking out her hand. “Jesse said he might have someone tagging along tonight. What is your name?”

Hanzo juggled his mug between hands and shook.

“Hanzo Shimada. I...had no idea I would be here.”

Fareeha grinned. “A surprise! That is just like Jesse. Have you known each other long?”

Hanzo shook his head as he settled into one of the soft chairs. “Jesse is helping me with a family heirloom. The circumstances are…” he trailed off. His face went ashen. How many people had Jesse told ? Did all these people know how pathetic he was?

“Don’t worry, Hanzo,” Fareeha said, knocking him out of his painful reverie. “Jesse is very professional. He hasn’t said a peep about the job.”

“...I see.” Hanzo sipped at his drink. It was a little too hot, but he swallowed it anyway. This was going marvelously, he thought. Stupendously well. His natural charisma was, again, doing him so many favors. He suddenly wished that Genji was here with him to buffer the crowds and deal with the speaking. His brother always knew how to handle these things. “And...what is it you do?”

“I run a rescue for phoenixes. They’re endangered, you know,” she said with the air of one who had had to say it many times. “They’re about as difficult to breed in captivity as giant pandas, but we’re having great success this season.”

Hanzo smiled a bit more genuinely. “That sounds wonderful. I’m dragons. I mean,” he said to clarify, “I raise dragons. They are similarly fussy.”

Another woman sat down in the third armchair of the cluster. She settled herself carefully, shifting to get comfortable.

“And I,” she said, “am the reason people like you two aren’t reduced to bits of ash,” she said with a smile. “I’m specialize in just your types of danger-- medically, that is. Angela Ziegler. Do you get many burns, Fareeha?”

Ziegler. The name rang a bell-- a claxon, if Hanzo was honest. Where had he heard it before? Hanzo contemplated the dilemma while Fareeha and Angela chatted over their own steaming cups.

“Phoenix fire is difficult to contain,” Fareeha was saying with a smile. “Phoenix tears, not so much.”

“I have heard of their properties. Do you--”

“Ms. Ziegler,” Hanzo interrupted, “What exactly do you specialize in?”

“Magically-assisted body work,” she said clearly. “Prostheses and the like.”

“Do you...ever work on physical curses?” Hanzo said carefully.

“Very rarely,” Angela said with a smile. “They don’t usually cross into my field, aside from the usual withered tissue or burns, of course.”

“Have you ever worked with a man named Genji Shimada?”

She stiffened suddenly, her smile painfully fake. “Of course, due to patient confidentiality laws I can’t confirm or den--”

“He’s my brother. Several years ago he was attacked by a curse that began turning his body to living wood.”

She relaxed.

“Oh, yes. Jesse brought him to me. He, erm. He didn’t like to talk about his brother.”

Hanzo sunk into his seat, ashamed. Of course. Who would? It had been Hanzo that triggered the curse to begin with, foolish pride harming the people he loved. But Angela pushed past it, leaning into the conversation while Fareeha looked on with interest.

“Last I spoke to him, he was doing quite well. Is he still planning to go out to the colony of dryads in Nepal?”

Hanzo sat up, surprised. “He is out there right now, actually. He left last month.”

“Living wood?” Fareeha interjected. “Is that not dangerous with the dragons around?”

Hanzo nodded. “Very. I suffered a partial curse for some time. It’s been halted by charmed plates in my legs, and for the most part my wooden parts are still green and unlikely to burn. Genji’s state was more advanced and as a result he has taken a more distant approach to our business.”

“Living curses can be deadly,” Angela said with a nod. “You have actual marks on your legs to halt it?” She sounded surprised. “That’s some advanced spellwork.” She gestured to Hanzo’s legs. Some of the lacquered woodwork could be seen through rips in his jeans, which he suddenly felt very self conscious about. Tomorrow, he would have to buy some good slacks. “May I?”

“Have at it, good doctor,” Hanzo said with a cautious smile, tugging up one leg of his jeans. He’d never anticipated bonding with a stranger over something that had literally torn him apart at one time, but the evening was shaping up to be rather interesting and he figured he might as well go with the mood.

While Angela poked at the intricate carvings on Hanzo’s shin, Hanzo spared a glance over to where Jesse was now huddled at the coffee counter with the giant man he’d been talking to before. They were pounding the table in laughter, voices booming even through the muffling effects of the book-lined walls. Jesse caught his eye and winked at him. His companion saw him looking and waved one massive hand. To his surprise, Fareeha waved back enthusiastically.

“Who is that man?” Hanzo asked. “The big one.”

“Oh, that’s Reinhardt,” Fareeha said. “Wonderful man. Werewolf rights activist. He shows up here when he can to try and spread the good word of safety in numbers. What’s tonight’s moon, anyway?”

Hanzo leaned around to look out the window, nearly knocking Angela in the chin with one wooden ankle. He managed to look chagrined at her annoyed glare up at him.

“New, perhaps waxing crescent?” Hanzo said with a guess. “The egg moon is in a month, anyway. And that will be a new moon.”

“That’d be why he’s here, then. What’s an egg moon?”

“The last night before the end of the laying season for dragons.” Hanzo hissed as Angela poked around one carving on the back of his calf. “Careful. I need to reseal some of the woodwork.”

“You should really come see me at my office, then.”

“Angie, are you fishing for business again?” Hanzo startled as a broad hand settled itself on his shoulder. When he looked up, Jesse was behind him, a thick book in his hand. “You know that’s bad etiquette.”

Angela brushed a piece of hair out of her face and climbed back into her squashy armchair. “Just assisting a new acquaintance, Jesse. And that is good etiquette.”

“I suppose so. These two aren’t bothering you too much, are they?” Jesse turned to Hanzo, a spark in his eye.

“No, they are bothering me just the right amount,” Hanzo said shyly. “How often are these meetings held?”

”Maybe once a month or so. It’s no formal thing, just a standing invitation is all. Why, you want to come back?” Jesse’s grin was massive, an ‘I told you so’ obviously perched on the edge of his tongue.

Hanzo shrugged in what he hoped as a nonchalant manner. “I would not be opposed. Fareeha, how did you get into phoenix breeding?”

“My mother started me on it,” she said, sipping on her tea. “We had one as a family pet-- an heirloom, almost-- that had been with us for centuries. They’re reborn from their ashes, you know, except this one kept taking longer and longer to emerge from the cinders.”

“Is that common?”

“Increasingly so, unfortunately.” He gesturing widley with her drink. “We are still trying to find out why. But in the meantime I am working with some other conservationists to breed a new generation. Angela, though!” She nudged the doctor with an elbow. “A genius if there ever was one.” She blushed. “From what I’ve heard, anyway.”

“Yeah, Angie, tell ‘im,” Jesse said with a smug grin on his face.

“I’m nothing special!” the woman insisted. “I just had an early start in my field. Besides, I would much rather hear about dragons. They’re so mysterious and powerful.”

“Not the two noodles this guy’s got at his house,” Jesse said with a playful shove to Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo went pink in the ears. “Though the big ones are a hefty pail of water.”

“Wot’re you lot talking about now?” said a new voice. Loud and a bit nasally, Hanzo startled once again when a new body perched itself on the arm of Fareeha’s chair, spindly legs crossing at the ankles. “I heard something about phoenix fire and dragons.”

“Er…” Hanzo leaned away from the sudden arrival. It was a gangly man who appeared to have clothed himself in his best rags; everything he wore had a tinge of soot on it, and several holes that appeared to have been singed rather than torn. “I breed dragons. Ms. Amari breeds phoenixes.”

“We use phoenix feathers down at the lab,” the man said. “Right useful if you can get the individual barbs off-- they’re like little bits of tinder, spark at anythin’.”

“Doesn’t that--” Angela interjected. “Fareeha, how do you clean if the feathers catch fire?”

“That’s only in contact with certain substances,” Fareeha said with a look of suspicion on her face. “Things like diamond dust or bezoars.”

“Well, we got plenty o’ that where I work,” the man said. “Fawkes, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Fareeha said, taken aback.

“I’m Fawkes. Jamie iffn’ you wan’ it, but Fawkes is good enough.”

“Where do you work that you must use phoenix feather remnants?” Hanzo asked with interest. “I sell cast-off shed skin or feathers for extra income, and there aren’t a lot of civilian buyers. Farmers like the dung, but--”

“Yeah, ‘cause dragons’re mean as cat’s piss,” Fawkes interjected. “No one wants t’ go near the damn things. I know a bloke what got too close to the lil fire buckets and half his damn face wen’ all roasty. Thing spit acid at him!”

“You weren’t kidding about the acid?” Jesse blurted. “I thought you were pulling my leg, Hanzo.”

“Of course not,” Hanzo said, shooting Jesse a confused look. “I made you sign a waver--”

“ Jesse got to see the dragons?” Fareeha interjected. She turned to Jesse and slapped the back of his head. “What the hell, Jesse? You’re supposed to tell me about cool stuff.”

“It was just today!” Jesse squawked, rubbing his head. “Right before we got here. What was I supposed to do?”

“Call me, you dolt!” Fareeha said furiously. “Doesn’t Sombra have that pocket thing working yet?”

“What?” Hanzo looked back and forth between the two specialists like he was watching a good-- if confusing-- game. He noted that Angela and the previously-chatty Fawkes did the same.

Jesse ignored them. “She ain’t got the damn things working yet, alright? Apparently they’re ‘fiddly’ and ‘take a lot of fine-tuning.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“It’s just little mirrors-- how long can it take?” Fareeha huffed. “The spells can’t be that different.”

“I--er--” Hanzo cleared his throat. “If you are talking about moving spells from one platform to another-- there are some transformative properties that need to be addressed--”

“Like if it’ll blow up!” Fawkes blurted. “Dunno what this sheila’s doin’, but if I take a bit with the wrong concentration of this or that for whatever its containment is-- even if the same formula works on another-- sometimes we get a real big bang.”

“Fawkes, with all due respect,” Angela said, exasperated. “What the fuck do you do for a living?”

“What?” the skinny man swiveled his head like an owl. “I said, din’ I? Government work.”

“What on earth--”

“Games department, girlie! I make the magic happen! Literally! Lobby-locks love me.”

“What’s--” Hanzo began, but Jesse leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Low-ball, y’know?” Jesse said. “Like lacrosse. It’s more popular in the Americas and Australia than it is in Europe. You ain’t ever seen a field?”

“Ooh, mate, you’re in for a treat.” The Australian rubbed his hands together wickedly. “We got fire . We got sparks . We got water bombs and illusions and good old fashioned sportsmanship, and I get paid to make the things splodey!”

“You--er--” Hanzo struggled to decipher. “You make the equipment?”

Fawkes swiveled once again from from his perch on Fareeha’s chair. “Oh, sure as shit I do! Didn’t go study out in the wastes for nothing, you know! I got all sorts of tricks up my sleeves. If you lot ever get extra parts--”

“We don’t, really,” Fareeha interjected harshly. “At least I don’t--”

“Well if you do,” Fawkes said, punctuating with a jabbed finger. “You send em to me. I’ll pay a pretty penny for good, fresh materials.”

“Oh lord,” Angela said, hands up to her face as if praying. “They’re going to get eaten alive.”

“ Say ,” Jesse interrupted, neatly cutting into the conversation. “Hanzo, it’s getting on the later side. Did you need to feed your whatchamacallits? The spitfire?”

“Australian Frillneck,” Hanzo corrected. “And yes.”

“Hoooo, aces!” A hand suddenly grasped Hanzo’s shoulder, slapping heartily. “Tell me true, mate-- you got a frillneck? You got any acid off em? Saliva? Teeth?”

“I do not run a parts shop, Mr. Fawkes,” Hanzo said, bristling.

“Jamie--” Angela tried firmly. “I do not think this is the time.” She turned to Hanzo kindly. “Come see me about resealing the curse work. And go feed your animals, Mr. Shimada.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo said. He was a little lightheaded, and appreciated Jesse’s guiding hand on his back. He was starting to feel shaky from all the people coming at him so quickly. He neatly shook out his pantsleg and picked up his mug, anxiously looking around for somewhere to leave it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fareeha said kindly. She shot Fawkes a dirty look-- he had the manners to look at least a little ashamed-- then smiled at Hanzo. “We’ll take care of it. It was very nice to meet you, Hanzo.”

--

Once outside the building and in the blessedly cool dark of the spring night, Hanzo took a deep breath and ran his hands down his face, sighing heavily. Jesse stood next to him, finishing off a stub of a cigarillo while Hanzo collected himself. It had been... nice to be with people again, despite the crush of heat and words and staring eyes. His dragons were good company, but they couldn’t talk.

“Hell of a group, eh?” Jesse tossed out between puffs.

“Indeed,” Hanzo said gravely. “Is it-- always like that?” At Jesse’s upturned eyebrow, he elaborated. “So-- crowded. Busy. Loud .”

“Not always,” Jesse said, shrugging. “Some nights it’s just a couple folks, and then sometimes it’s like a damn town hall meeting. Tonight was probably on the busier end,” he acquiesced. “But you liked it?”

“For the most part.” Hanzo shot the curse-breaker a weak smile and ran his hands through his hair one last, fidgety time. “Most of them seemed like agreeable people.”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, they sure are,” Jesse said sincerely. “Kind folks, and smart as hell, the lot of ‘em. Angie, Reeha, they’re top in their fields-- not surprised they took a liking to you, honestly.”

“Wh-- really?” Hanzo said, sputtering at the compliment.

“For sure,” Jesse aid, nodding. “They like a good brain, and Angie always likes a good puzzle.” He winked. “I’m sure you’ll keep the two of them busy for awhile. And between you and me...” he said conspiratorially, looking back over his shoulder. Hanzo followed his gaze: he could see the doctor and the phoenix breeder sitting rather cozily together where he’d left them. “I think they’d be good for each other . Been trying to get them at the same damn meeting for months.”

“I-- er--” Hanzo blushed further, unused to being part of gossip. “They--they seem lovely. Lovely people. You want them-- together ?” he said breathlessly.

Jesse laughed heartily. “Don’t sound so surprised, snapdragon! They’ll get on like a house on fire once they get to know each other. Reeha’s smart as a whip, but I bet you anything she’ll be calling Angie for a band-aid within a week-- girl’s more than prone to on-the-job injuries.”

“Oh,” Hanzo said, wheezing his relief. “As friends, then.”

“Nah!” Jesse said, laughing even harder. He looked like he was about to cry, he was so tickled. “A date! Girlfriends!” He slapped Hanzo’s shoulder, knocking the man forward a bit. “Those two are gonna hit it off, mark my words.” With that he stubbed out his cigarillo and brandished his serape, adjusting it around his shoulders as if shaking off a chill. “Now, you ready to go home or you wanna walk around a lil first?”

“Home,” Hanzo said dazedly. “Yes. Home.” His mind raced. Jesse set people up-- regularly? Was he just some kind of social savant? His shop had looked like it belonged to a hermit, not a social butterfly. What was the man playing at?

“Now Rein,” Jesse continued on, as if Hanzo had not frozen stock still in front of him. “That’s a man what’s hard to get a hold of. Runs around like a crazy man-- through the mountains, through the jungles, all to try and make a ‘global pack’ as he puts it. He’s trying to be a damn crusader at this point, all holy might and love of fellow man.”

“He’s-- er-- the werewolf?” Hanzo ventured, trying to unfreeze himself. He took a step down the road, waiting for Jesse to follow-- and follow he did. “Is that rude to ask?”

“Kinda rude, yeah, but I’m sure Rein would forgive you. He’s a real good guy. Best friend you could ever have in a fight. We been talkin’ about him coming to the shop some time, try to maybe do some support meetings now that he’s getting some good numbers in his network.”

“So many werewolves in one place?” Hanzo asked, curiosity genuinely piqued now. They ambled down the road from pool of lamp light to pool of lamplight, chatting as they looked at the closing-down shops. “Is that not dangerous?”

“Oh, no!” Jesse said cheerfully. “They’re kind folks, usually. Just need a good bit of help. It’s hard to hold down a job when you’re out ‘sick’ a few days a month, y’know?”

“I see,” Hanzo said. “That might be a concern for an employer, yes.”

“An’ even the ones that’re open about the condition don’t usually get the proper medical allowances. But people gotta eat.”

“Yes,” Hanzo said solemnly, thinking of his brother on the other side of the world. “They certainly do.”

“Now,” Jesse said, turning to Hanzo. “What’s say we get you home?”

--

“Well, alright,” Jesse said, not stopping to fold up his serape as he walked Hanzo to his door. “I’ll be off now, and I’ll let you know when phase two of Operation: Hanzo is up--”

“Wait.” Hanzo said, hand shooting out as if to grab the man’s arm-- only lacking the bravery of the other night and ending up stopping to hover mid-air. He paused, then pushed forward, thinking of the success of the night. “Would you like to come in? I owe you a cup of tea, at least.”

Jesse paused, looking uncharacteristically unsure for a moment. He stared at Hanzo for a fraction of a second before grinning sheepishly and rubbing at his scruff.

“I don’t see why not. Might be nice to unwind a bit.”

They were greeted with a dark room-- nothing unusual-- but a loud room. Soba and Udon were tangled in the middle of the living room, chirruping and hissing like crazy and wriggling in their haste to get to Hanzo.

“My loves!” Hanzo exclaimed, laughing. He felt his shoulders relax for the first time in hours. “What have you gotten yourselves into?” He leaned down and scooped the long, scaly creatures into his arms, nuzzling into their smooth scales and soft manes as they wiggled to curl themselves around him.

“Aw,” Jesse cooed, reaching out to pet one of them. “Are they always so-- yowch! Little bugger bit me!”

“Udon!” Hanzo scolded. “ No , you infuriating creature.” He unceremoniously dropped the dragons as punishment, shooing them off into the dark room with a nudge of his foot. “Let me get a fire going.”

Hanzo kept his good mood around himself like a coat while he knelt by the fireplace, starting up a few coals with some tender tinder he kept on hand. It was only dryer lint and old papers, but it caught easily enough, even with the two noodly dragons getting in the way.

“I can’t light it if you sit on the spark,” Hanzo muttered, shoving Soba off the pile of twigs he’d set up on top of the tinder. “Go bother your mate. It’ll be ready in a moment.”

“So,” Jesse said amiably. Hanzo was focused on the fireplace in front of him, but he knew the creak of his old armchairs well enough to know the sound of a man settling in for a good sit.

“So,” Hanzo repeated. He breathed on the growing flames, fanning them with a spare bit of paper. They spread like whispers through the soft mass of lint and wood shavings.

“Did you have a good time?”

Hanzo stared at the growing flames for a long second while he considered his answer. Soba, the fat thing, pressed her soft snout into his palm as he did so. He pet her idly as he responded.

“I think I did,” he admitted softly. “It was-- it was a lot at once.”

“Good, good,”Jesse said absently.

“But,” Hanzo continued. “I don’t know how often I could do it.” He shook his head, at himself as much as at the idea. “I am busy, and to be honest I prefer solitude to bad company. And--”

“And you think everyone but your dragons is bad company,” Jesse finished for him.

Hanzo snorted. “Do not be presumptuous,” he spat, suddenly irked. Soba hissed at his side. “I have been alone a long time, shopkeep. But I am no stunted socialite. I once ran an empire. I am not shy-- I am picky . People used to fight for my attention.”

“Sorry,” Jesse said quickly. “I didn’t mean to--”

“You wondered if I had any friends ,” Hanzo said, the heat suddenly blazing in his cheeks as high as the flames in his grate. He turned to Jesse, all thoughts of a soothing pot of tea gone. “You wondered straight away if I even had hobbies. Am I such a poor sight to you?”

“No!” Jesse protested. “I just--”

“You know my brother. You have seen the state of his body. You must know the things I have done. I am not a good man, Jesse McCree. I am the end of an empire. If I am in solitude, it because I earned it. No number of professional coffee dates and nighttime strolls can solve that.”

There was a thick silence as the fire crackled away, bright despite the chill of the atmosphere. It winked off Jesse’s wide eyes; its glare caught even on the talisman still staidly placed on Hanzo’s coffee table. Soba snarled a little before leaping into the flames, spraying embers everywhere as she settled in. Hanzo did not even flinch, merely flicking away the sparks as they rained down on his hands and knees. He was still kneeling at the grate, but he spared the energy to stare at his guest. He was suddenly very tired.

“Perhaps it is time you leave, McCree. I am sorry for inviting you in only to subject you to this-- “ He struggled for the words. “--this tangle .”

Jesse was still for a few moments before he picked up his hat from his lap and slowly set it on his head. He stood with nary a groan, straightening himself up and dusting himself off.

Hanzo stared dully at the flames as he listened to the artificer collect himself and open the front door. Soba only tenderly curled in her embers, yawning as if content. Hanzo ran a finger down Udon’s spine as the thinner dragon twisted his way into the fire to join his mate, throwing clods of red-hot woodchips out onto the hearth as he did so.

“If it’s worth anything,” Jesse said flatly, hovering at the door. “I was sincere when I said I wanted to help. If my way isn’t compatible with your way-- well, we’ll just have to find something new.”

Hanzo wanted to say something. Part of him was embarrassed for his outburst, but most of him felt as stiff as his spine, hard as the stones of the hearth under his wooden shins. He stared without speaking, willing the man to leave.

“I won’t help someone that doesn’t want help,” Jesse said.

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I think you do want--” he took a deep breath. “Not-- let’s not call it help . You’re not a weak man, Hanzo Shimada. But you’re something. I think people would like you, given a chance-- and I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, and you don’t need people's’ approval and you’re fine on your own, okay, I’m not invalidating all that-- but for the sake of your pets and your business, something has to change.”

Hanzo did not reply. The floor thudded dully under the artificer’s boots as he moved to the door, opening it and shutting it behind him with a small click.

Hanzo faced the flames where his dragons were curled and grimaced, fighting the sudden flood of shame that gathered in the crease between his eyebrows.

Chapter Text

Potion after potion went down Hanzo’s throat, making changes in his body with each swallow. It was taking too much time to see their effects, and Hanzo was getting frustrated. Genji had helped him get ingredients, find scrolls and instructions, keep his secret adjustments from their parents-- his parents, who were so supportive yet didn’t seem to understand how crucial it was that Hanzo transitioned as quickly as possible. He needed to look the part of the young heir; just acting it wasn’t enough .

He had heard rumors of Western methods that might work better-- faster, more potently-- but Hanzo was unsure about how to proceed with them. There were Eastern runes that could be used to boost brewing strength; surely there must be equivalents in Western procedure.

Genji was always at the forefront of anything new and foreign-- Hanzo would ask him. They were old partners in crime; surely Genji would be willing to help him with this new aspect of his journey.

Hanzo snapped awake, gasping into the cold dark of his bedroom. His legs ached furiously, as if his bones were twisting all over again, flesh into wood and blood into sap. He groaned to stave off the nausea that made him sweat icily into his sheets and bedclothes. His breath calmed somewhat when he felt the warm curls of his dragons by his side; Udon had settled on his right and Soba on the left, each tucked into the dip of the bed made by his weight on the mattress.

Udon made a soft murring noise in his sleep, stretching one clawed little hand out in a way that made his talons catch on Hanzo’s sleep shirt. Hanzo laughed softly. Even in rest the creatures were sensitive to his moods.

At that sentiment, Hanzo’s mien soured. The talisman was still sitting on his coffee table, right where he’d left it almost a week ago. If Jesse-- McCree, Hanzo thought with a frown-- if the artificer was right, it was still doing its dark work just by being in his proximity. But at least it wasn’t in the barn; things would have been far worse.

Hanzo stretched away the last grasp of sleep and swung his legs out over the edge of his mattress, spending a long minute staring ruefully at the wooden material of his calves and feet. It was smooth and glossy, almost sophisticated-looking. Dark Japanese cherry shaped his calves and ankles, looking like it had been carved to be some delicate prosthesis. The runes he’d had inscribed to prevent the condition from spreading were sealed over with a magical stain and sealant. Hanzo ran his fingers over the surface of his ankle; some of the sealant was flaking off. The doctor-- Angela?-- from the bookstore party was probably right. He would need help resealing it soon, or risk his condition worsening.

Hanzo made his way on socked feet to his bathroom just down the hall and stared at himself in the mirror. This one was mundane, not spelled into the Athena network. He relished the privacy here as he stared at his haggard reflection. Hair loose, fuzz growing in on his scalp and face; Hanzo thought he made a pathetic sight.

He gritted his teeth. It was fine. It would all be fine. The sun would be up soon and he could get to work, and it would all be fine.

“Alright-- Bodil, Burr! It’s time to go outside. Come here, my dears.”

Hanzo hauled the massive outside doors of the Snappers’ enclosure open, revealing a tract of land that was bordered by reinforced fences. The back half of it was a small marshy pond. A turtle stared ruefully at Hanzo as he herded the two narrow, muscular dragons out. Their lanky bodies slinked over the muddy ground as Hanzo hummed and left the doors open behind them. It would be much easier to work with the two of them getting some sunshine outside instead of lounging in their enclosure, and a good wave of fresh air would do wonders for the little indoor area.

He set about cleaning the enclosure with gusto, first washing away the muck on the floor. Droppings were gathered and set aside for sale as fertilizer, and any stray scales were gathered up for use in potion-making.

He used the anxiety of the morning to fuel his hands as he scrubbed the floor with a large push-brush, running warm water over the whole thing so that the filth washed away into a drain in the middle of the floor. He tried not to mess with the big slop-pile of a nest in the far corner-- it was easier to let the dragons maintain it-- but he did search for eggs.

He scowled as his hands came away filthy but empty. Nothing.

Staring out at the Snappers sunning themselves in the yard, Hanzo mulled over McCree’s words. Something has to change.

“Was he right?” Hanzo mused. “Perhaps… but he didn’t have to be so-- so blunt.” Yes, Hanzo thought, perhaps if Jesse had simply been more tactful-- but no. Hanzo had been his usual stubborn self, pushing away all assistance.

He took some deep breaths, reveling in the earthy smell of the Snappers’ nest. It may have been somewhat foul, but it was what his charges preferred, and he was willing to do anything for them. Maybe it was time to take that same attitude for himself. He had neglected himself lately, and the dragons had noticed.

There were precious few weeks left until the Egg Moon, and he would need to act fast. He looked outside into the bright sunlight as he thought on what he could do, and could not help the grin that spread on his face. The Snappers were cuddled up in the sun, tails affectionately twined together. Perhaps all was not lost.

Resolving to call Jesse as soon as he was done with his chores in the barn, Hanzo happily went about the rest of his rounds. He made sure Itzi was not picking at his feathers, checked on the young Wyvern’s stitches, and paid particular attention to Persephone’s fat reserves, which were at peak perfection, indicating that she was in prime condition for breeding. It would just take a little work to give the dragons that final push.

It wasn’t until he was in the German Work Wyrms’ enclosure that things went wrong. The stocky elder dragons were powerful things. They’d been bred for use as laborers, but the breed was long-lived, and more powerful the more they aged. Hanzo’s pair was the last remnant of his family’s stock, and the only ones worth keeping.

The only ones with clean blood, Hanzo thought to himself bitterly. Everything else had been ruined, inbred to the point of disease long before the final cut to the Shimadas’ business had been made.

Nevertheless, Hanzo was fond of the two wyrms. Adalard was a robust male, and the gentler of the two. Lurlina, on the other hand, was fiery in spirit and in body, able to produce small flames from her mouth. They were hardy breeders, too-- usually-- and had produced a number of drakes that had gone on to do good work in construction or agriculture.

Hanzo had just started picking through their droppings and the boulders they called a nest when tragedy struck. His wooden feet-- clad in a pair of tall rubber boots-- twisted strangely, and Hanzo suddenly found himself falling into a heap of dung. He groaned-- this was not the first time it had happened, and was why he wore old clothes to do chores-- but his groan of frustration quickly turned to one of agony as he realised that his phantom pains from that morning were turning to reality.

He sweatted furiously as he made his way to the door of the enclosure, limping all the while. Something must have gone awry with his leg, but without removing the boot, he was unable to figure out what. He yelped in pain when he tried to put any weight on it and leaned at the half-open door for a long moment, gritting his teeth as his knee cramped against the agony of bone turning to soft green wood.

“What-- oh!” he nearly jumped in surprise as Adalard bumped him from behind. The wyrm was nearly ten feet tall at the shoulder and had come up to nudge Hanzo’s hunched back with his broad snout. He huffed, and a small puff of steam escaped his nostrils. “Are you checking on me, you sly thing?” Hanzo asked, carefully patting the clay-colored wyrm’s nose. “No need, I-- ugh! No!”

He groaned as he was picked up by the back of his coat, carried as if he were one of Adalard’s own young. It did take some of the pressure off his foot, but it terrified Hanzo. And yet… Hanzo was loathe to admit it, but he did trust the beast, which was more ancient than any of his other animals.

“Forward,” Hanzo said resignedly, still sweating bullets. “Please take me to the mirror, Adalard. It’s just-- rrrgh-- just a few steps that way.”

Adalard did as asked, carefully nosing the enclosure door the rest of the way open and walking with surprising delicacy the few yards it took to get to Hanzo’s barn portal. Once there, he flopped his massive, elephantine body down and set Hanzo neatly in the crook between his foreleg and his belly, leaving Hanzo protected, if awkwardly seated.

“Athena, please contact Doctor Angela Ziegler,” Hanzo said tightly. His voice twisted as he grimaced against the pain again, blissfully passing out to the chime of an attempted connection.

“Mein gott, you have no idea how worried you had me,” Angela said in a harsh whisper. “I’ve never-- to see you like that-- with a--”

“Adalard is old,” Hanzo said tiredly. “He’s known me since I was nothing but a toddler. I would trust him with my life.”

“And it’s well you did, or you may not have made it,” Angela said tightly. Hanzo grunted as she tapped another curl of wood out of his leg, carving a tiny protective rune into the wood that now made up his knee. “You should have come to me sooner.”

“I only met you last night, my dear lady,” Hanzo said with an awkward laugh.

“Let me rephrase that: you should have looked for professional help sooner,” Angela said sternly. “The sealant on this is worn to pieces, flaking off like-- like--”

“Like it hasn’t been treated since it was put on, I know,” Hanzo said defeatedly. “That’s because it hasn’t.”

An awkward silence ensued, but it was laced with Angela’s nearly audible seething. Luckily it was broken by the sound of an enclosure door shutting and the bar lock being thrown down tight.

“Alright, that should do it,” Fareeha said, reappearing in the barn hall and brushing the dirt from her hands. “Adalard is back where he’s supposed to be, though he didn’t go without a fight. I don’t think he liked being taken away from you, Hanzo.”

“He’s a protective little beast,” Hanzo said, huffing a laugh.

“Little, huh?” Fareeha said, amused. “He makes my largest specimens look like chicks. Angela, how’s he doing?”

“He will live,” the doctor said gravely. “Though if he’s foolish enough to put off further treatment, I can’t say I won’t murder him myself.” She gave Hanzo a pointed look. “I don’t have all my tools with me here, obviously. I only have my emergency kit. If you can visit me at my office--”

“No need, no need,” Hanzo said, pushing himself up to a seated position with a wince. “I have potion ingredients in abundance--”

“You need proper spellwork, Mr. Shimada,” Angela insisted.

“Yes, yes, I’ll come in as soon as I can. Just-- please, can you patch it so I may move to my house?” He plucked at his shirt, which was still covered in dragon saliva and dung. “I would be more comfortable doing medical procedures in my clean living room rather than on my barn floor.”

And so Hanzo shortly found himself in his living room, propped up on his easy chair, legs on the divan with a cushion supporting them and a clean shirt on his back. He gritted his teeth against the residual pain, though it was mostly psychosomatic.

“So tell me again,” Fareeha said calmly. “You just-- slipped in dung?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a flush on his face. “It-- it happens, you know, in this line of work. Surely you’ve had an incident with guano?”

“More than one,” Fareeha said with a grimace. “I like to wear a raincoat when I’m in the aviary.”

“And what happened when you felt the pain?” Angela cut in. “Was it sharp? Like a crack? Or was it more of a dull pain? Have you felt anything before this?”

“No,” Hanzo said, shaking his head. He flopped back in his chair. “No pain before this. I had… well, I had a dream last night, but I’m sure the pains were not related. I must have just stepped wrong. Genji has always teased me for my… er-- my ‘chicken legs.’ My ankles are not strong.”

“And the pain this afternoon?” Angela said. She pulled out a notepad and started scribbling.

“Sharp and sudden. It felt like a sprain at first, only I think something must have happened with the wood.”

Angela sat on his couch for a long moment, tapping at her lips with her pen as she thought. Hanzo stared around the room in discomfort as she did so. It was dark in here without a fire going, and cold. Soba and Udon were probably playing somewhere else in the house, or else curled up in a sunbeam together.

“It’s still cold. Have you ever had problems with cracking sap?”

“Cracking sap?” Hanzo queried, raising an eyebrow.

“Your legs. You said they were green wood. Have you had problems in past winters?”

Hanzo nodded slowly, putting the pieces together. “I have had occasional leg pains during the snowy months, yes. Genji has complained of cramping, as well.”

“Then that may explain it. Goodness, this is very interesting. Do you mind terribly if I keep these notes?”

Hanzo looked at her warily. “I’m not sure if--”

“Only for myself, and only for my practice,” Angela said quickly. “As reference. In case I ever come across something like this again.”

“I suppose,” Hanzo said, giving in tiredly. “Though it’s unlikely.”

“Oh?” Fareeha cut in. “What makes you so sure?”

“The--” Hanzo struggled for words, trying to decide how much to tell them. “The origins of the curse are-- well, not a curse exactly, but-- well, misguided magic. A combination of different languages that did not translate into anything useful.” Quickly, to change the subject, he continued. “But enough-- why are you here, Fareeha? I called for the doctor, not you.”

“Oh!” Fareeha’s dark skin turned a dusky pink. “Well-- I--”

“A visit,” Angela said quickly. “A-- er-- a check-up.”

“I see,” Hanzo said slowly, smirking. “You seemed in excellent health the other night, Ms. Amari. What changed?”

“Nothing,” Fareeha said quickly. “I mean, yes, something changed.”

“Her dam laid last night and the egg burned her,” Angela said in a whisper. “Look at her hands! That’s new life, Hanzo!”

“What? Really?” Hanzo sat up quickly, all leg pain forgotten. “Show me.”

Fareeha leaned over the coffee table, holding out her hands. Sure enough, the palms were shiny silver with the signs of a freshly healed burn.

“I foolishly tried to pick up an egg without my gloves, and it was hot as anything. They’re still sensitive,” Fareeha said with a silly grin on her face. “But Angela put this salve on them that healed the worst of it. What’s another callus, anyway? A new generation of phoenixes, Hanzo!”

 Hanzo sat back in his chair with a sigh, high on the thought of new life. Eggs were precious things no matter the species. But something endangered?

“That is wonderful news,” Hanzo said. “I only wish my stock would do the same.”

 “What’s stopping them?” Fareeha asked, surprised. “Your barn was lively enough.”

 Hanzo stared at her warily, wondering if it was worth the trouble of telling her and Angela.

 “Me, apparently. Or at least an amplified version of my emotions. Look at that coin there,” Hanzo said, pointing at the wooden disk on the table. It looked fairly innocuous among the general clutter of his home, but Fareeha latched onto it easily enough. “Oh, don’t tou--”

 Too late, Hanzo was suddenly overcome with a sense of giddy unease, his heart fluttering slightly. He gasped-- it was only for a moment-- and then the wooden talisman clattered to the table again.

 “What the hell was that?” Angela spat out, leaning away from the table and its contents.

 “That is what Jesse was helping me with,” Hanzo said dejectedly. “The talisman apparently emmits one’s feelings.” He scowled. “In my posession it ruins the mood . I have been avoiding making direct contact with it as that amplifies the effect. But nevertheless, just by being near it I make the dragons anxious.”

 “Oh, Hanzo,” Angela said, a concerned look coming over her face.

“Do not pity me,” Hanzo said irritably. “That is not what I need, nor what I want.”

Just then, Udon scampered into the living room, his long body weaving over the ground as his short legs worked to keep up. The little blue dragon chirped anxiously at Hanzo, running around the divan in laps until Hanzo reached down to scoop him up.

“It’s alright, my pet,” Hanzo said, running a hand down Udon’s long, furred back. “Can you stop stealing socks long enough to say hi?"

“Oooh, wow,” Fareeha breathed. “He’s so little compared to those monsters in the barn.”

“His mate is roughly the same size,” Hanzo said with a proud smile. “It’s part of the reason I keep them in the house with me.”

“Lucky Jesse, getting to see them so close,” Fareeha said with a smile. “He looks wonderful.” She reached out gently, hesitating. “May I?”

“Of course, just be careful of his claws.” Hanzo held up Udon’s long, scaly body in both hands in offering. The dragon just twined around his fingers and murred at him, chirping once in surprise when Fareeha carefully scooped him up.

“Oh, what a cutie!” She exclaimed, laughing when Udon sniffed gently at her neck before hiding his head under her hair. She winced when he dug his talons into her shirt, but otherwise stood still while the little blue dragon wound his way around her.

“He likes long hair,” Hanzo said with a laugh, happy to be on easier territory. “Soba will make a nest out of my hairbrush leavings if I let her-- I don’t, by the way. Even I am not so indulgent as to allow that.”

There was a long silence as Fareeha laughed and played with Udon. Hanzo smiled as he watched, but Angela was silent, a serious look on her face.

“Hanzo,” Angela said carefully. “How are things going with Jesse?”

Hanzo stiffened, smile suddenly forced. “Why do you ask?”

“You said Jesse was helping you. Past tense. Is he not anymore?”

“It’s...complicated,” Hanzo hedged. “I have been meaning to call him again…”

“That would be wise.”

“What do you mean?” Hanzo asked cautiously.

“Sombra told me, so I’m just passing the message along.” Angela said. “But Jesse has been worried about you since he left here the other night.”

“I see,” Hanzo said slowly. More pity?

“And--” she laughed a little. “He may be in over his head at the moment. Just give him a call.”

The afternoon wound down quickly after that. Fareeha turned Udon loose to let him snake his way back across the floor, and Angela left Hanzo a note with her office’s address and an appointment time-- he’d have an open slot no matter when he called, she said emphatically.

Hanzo took all this with a grain of salt as he shut the door behind the two women. He still limped, but the damage had been halted temporarily. Angela had done something with a sealant and some professional magic Hanzo couldn’t comprehend that had stopped the growth.

And yet Hanzo walked cautiously. His joints ached at the knee where the wood was fresh and green. His favorite jeans-- the ones with the holes in them, ragged below the knee and dark with soil stains-- had been cut away for easy access to his legs in the barn. They were little more than garbage now. Hanzo’s mouth twitched with the barest quirk of chagrin. He really would have to get new clothes now, he thought with a touch of humor.

His sense of touch was even dimmer than before, Hanzo noted as he walked into the kitchen for a pot of tea. Previously he could feel chilly tile beneath his green soles, but now the sensation was muted, like standing on ice with thick socks on. He didn’t want to look at his feet to confirm it, but he suspected they were mature wood now. He would have to be even more careful than he previously had been.

Perhaps Genji would have some ideas. For...coping. Hanzo grimaced at the word, but it was truth, no matter how the notion made him feel.

The kettle whistled as the water boiled. Hanzo poured the water into his teapot with a floral blend, something with horehound. Antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, good for all ills. Taking a fresh mug of the brew with him, he tottered on uncertain feet to his bedroom.

It was still a mess. Clothes and old relics littered his floor, spilling out of his closet like an avalanche of ratty fabric and tarnished metal. Soba rolled on the pile gleefully, a tassel from some forgotten tapestry in her mouth.

Hanzo chuckled and left her to it, instead settling in his bed. There would be time to clean later. For now, he simply wanted to drink his tea, prop up his aching legs, and rest. Just for a few hours… Just until it was time for evening meals…

He was a toddler, fat and happy. He babbled, and the small creature his father held wiggled in excitement. It too was but a babe, and it chirruped and squeaked its displeasure at being restrained.

Hanzo knew, deep in his child-brain, that the creature was nice. He reached for it, eyes bright and fingers dancing with excitement. He wanted to touch the creature, but his mother held him firmly in her arms.

“Are you sure?” she asked in that smooth, lilting voice of hers.

“The child is a Shimada,” Hanzo’s father answered. His voice was kind-- kinder than Hanzo remembered from all years after this. “The dragons always know a Shimada. It will be fine.”

Hanzo’s father gently set the wiggling creature down on the ground, and now Hanzo saw it was only the size of a garden snake with little arms that scrabbled uselessly against the tatami mat, unable to get a grip on the woven floor. It skittered and snaked on its belly muscles up to Hanzo’s mother’s lap, then used its needle-like nails to climb her kimono’s hem. Up past the bent knee it scrambled, tongue flicking out to taste the air.

And then Hanzo met her: the small, navy dragon wound itself into a little pile in the dip of his lap, much like a twirl of soba noodles in a bowl.

Hanzo clapped and shrieked happily. He had made a friend!

Hanzo woke up six hours later feeling groggy and slow, but overall much restored. It was only his gut that still roiled, knotted up with anxiety. Angela’s words made something in him cautious.

He’s in over his head, her voice echoed in his mind. Hanzo frowned. Had something happened to the artificer?

He left his dirty mug where it sat on his bedside table and tottered down the hall to his main portal. Standing in front of it, he checked the time-- half past eight in the evening. He’d have to make this quick and feed the dragons before they got too restless. No doubt Adalard would be throwing a fit by now, having been torn away from Hanzo like that.

“Athena, please call Jesse McCree.”

“ Calling: Jesse McCree,” the mirror answered smoothly.

Hanzo tapped his foot impatiently as the tone rang and rang, echoing endlessly with nothing to note that it was active but a faint glow in the center. His foot knocked hollowly on the wooden floors; he stopped when the noise made him even more irritable.

At last, the portal went through, the connection made. The room Hanzo peered into was dark, save for an outline of light. The front room again, Hanzo presumed; that would be the curtain separating the front counter from the back room.

“Hello?” Hanzo called. He waited.

Nothing.

“Hello?” He tried again. “Jesse? Are you there?”

 The curtain suddenly swept back and a figure rushed into frame, silhouetted by the light behind it. It was not, however, Jesse’s broad figure that strode forward, or his rugged face that came into frame.

 It was someone...completely the opposite of that.

 “Qué deseas?” the woman in front of him spat flatly. She had green goggles up on her forehead, pushing back a purple undercut. She had more piercings than even Hanzo, and a wicked bit of integrated something running along the shaved side of her scalp. She frowned at the little desk mirror. “Oh, it’s you. Hold on, lemme get the lug. Ay, Jessito!”

“Excuse me?” Hanzo asked, startled, but the woman was gone so fast he doubted she’d even heard him.

A moment later there was a clang and a crack, and Jesse McCree walked out of the back room.

“Sorry about all that,” Jesse said, dusting off his leather work apron. “Som’s just-- oh, it’s you.”

“Why is everyone saying that today?” Hanzo asked irritably. Then he waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. Angela told me to call you.”

“Angie?” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Really? So her fishing actually caught something. Good for her, I guess. What’s up?” The artificer seemed distracted as he talked, fidgeting and adjusting things Hanzo couldn’t see out of frame.

“I don’t know,” Hanzo said. “She just said to call you.”

“Oh. Well…” Jesse shrugged. “I don’t have anything for you right now. Especially if it’s gonna turn out like the other night. I thought I had a thing we could do, but-- it might not be up your alley.”

“Like?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesse said, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t’ve been your thing.”

“Don’t presume to know me,” Hanzo said, and immediately grimaced. This was going nowhere.

“Jesus,” Jesse muttered, almost so quietly Hanzo couldn’t hear him. “Alright, I don’t know you, and you don’t want me to. But a job’s a job. I’ve got enough of a mess around here without dealing with your mess too.”

Hanzo flushed, indignant, but he swallowed down the next argumentative thing that was on the tip of his tongue. An awkward silence ensued in which Hanzo played with the fraying hem of his shirt and Jesse continually shifted things in his own workspace that Hanzo couldn’t see.

“Are you...well?” Hanzo ventured awkwardly.

“Fine,” Jesse said tersely. “Just some shit that fell over and now I gotta rearrange it.”

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had a more organized system for your shop,” Hanzo said. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Jesse’s sneer only made it worse.

“Don’t sass me,” Jesse said with a toothsome smile. It made him look predatory, looming over the mirror that was clearly angled up from a surface below him. “I got a system. I seem to recall that your office wasn’t that tidy, either.”

“Then why are things falling?” Hanzo asked, stuffing his foot further down his throat.

“Because a seven-foot tall werewolf walked into my shop today, and the place ain’t built for brick shithouses like him,” Jesse sneered. “So yeah, smartass, it’s my own fault, but I was tryin’ to be hospitable, y’get me? I’m not gonna make him meet me ‘round back like he ain’t worth the trouble of finding a teacup for.”

Hanzo balked, feeling the hot flush of shame creep up his neck.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. “Can I...help in any way?”

“No,” Jesse said irritably. “Unless you wanna come over and sort out dusty old used postcards and love letters. Or shelve candelabras or something, I dunno.”

“I…” Hanzo cleared his throat, coughing lightly to cover his embarrassment. “I could do that.”

Jesse paused for a moment, hands still at last. His face twisted with some unreadable emotion in the dim light of his shop, and for a moment Hanzo feared he had misstepped.

“You what?”

“I...could sort candelabras?” Hanzo found himself saying. “Or-- what was it-- you said used postcards?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, visibly relaxing, though he still eyed Hanzo suspiciously. “People like using them for spells. Emotional components.”

“And the candelabras? Are those for spells too?”

“Nah,” Jesse said, a grin splitting his face at last. “Those are just for the spellcaster with a flair for the dramatique, if you will.”

Hanzo smiled cautiously. “Like you?” he asked, hoping that wasn’t rude. But to his surprise, Jesse only laughed.

“Like me, yeah,” he chuckled. “It’s kinda late for it now-- I was gonna close up soon anyhow-- but if you wanna drop by tomorrow I’m sure I could sweep away the worst of it from the front door. We’re closed until I can clear a path to the counter again, though.”

Hanzo startled. “Does that mean your services are on hold too?”

“For you?” McCree stroked his chin, thumb scratching through his beard as he seemed to consider his answer. “Only if you keep being a dick about it. I want to like you Hanzo, I really do. You’re an interesting guy, and Genji’s told me plenty of stories about you that put you in a good light. You’d be a real catch if you weren’t such an ass half the time.” Jesse shook his head. “But I’ll work with you-- only ‘cause your critters are so dang cute,” he said with a grin.

Hanzo sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he said. “I will try to rein in my... assishness.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Jesse said, waving his hand dismissively. “If you’re serious about helping me you can come on over tomorrow. You still know how to find the place?”

Hanzo nodded. “In the alley behind the bakery, yes. I can find you. Thank you. I, er--” He chewed his words. “I’m sorry. About-- it all. Genji will be the first to tell you I am not well socialized.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said more kindly. “He’s said something once or twice about you being a reclusive kid, but I didn’t think it’d be this big an obstacle, to be honest.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “If Genji had his way, everyone would think I was an irredeemable hermit with no interest in the outside world.”

“And you’re saying you aren’t?”

Hanzo snorted, but it was with a hint of laughter-- a warm tone that sparked a reciprocating smile on Jesse’s face.

“I am a bit of a hermit,” Hanzo admitted. “But only in comparison to Hanamura’s infamous playboy, Genji Shimada.”

“What, him?” The artificer looked like he was about to laugh, but he suddenly stepped back like he’d seen a ghost. “Shit, excuse me. I gotta go. Tell the little ones ‘hi’ for me, would you?”

“I--” Hanzo started to say that he would, but the connection winked out, leaving only his own reflection in the clear surface of his mirror. “Okay.”

Tomorrow, then, he thought determinedly.

Not today , Hanzo groaned internally. He yelped when Udon walked directly across his bladder, practically tossing the dragon off the bed in instinctual discomfort.

Emerging from his bathroom twenty minutes later in a cloud of steam, Hanzo contemplated the still-catastrophic state of his closet. Much of it would have to go. He had very few presentable pairs of pants left. Some shopping was in order, and perhaps a haircut while he was out? Hanzo hadn’t taken a break from his work just to pamper himself lately. Surely Jesse wouldn’t mind if he showed up to the shop a little later? He hadn’t given Hanzo a specific time, after all.

Indeed, Hanzo took his time with his errands. He stocked up on tea and bought two new pairs of pants, set up an appointment with Angela, and even managed to peruse a display of new spell texts for a solid five minutes until he realized that he was going to be some form of late if he didn’t get a move on.

He stopped briefly at home to change into his new pants and feed the dragons, and then he was out. It took a lot longer to get to the street on which McCree’s Oddities & Artifacts resided. He almost walked past its entrance as he had done the first time he visited. Once again he noted the awkward location at the end of an alley, squeezed between a bakery and an empty office building.

There truly was a pile of candelabras out front, and when Hanzo shimmied his way through the tiny allowance for the door, he was astounded. The building was in even worse shape than when he’d first been in here-- something he hadn’t thought possible. The piles and stacks in the immediate vicinity appeared to have been pushed over, and due to their proximity to the piles next to them, the room had steadily collapsed in a pattern that looked rather like an asteroid had landed in the middle of the shop.

Hanzo stepped carefully through the path of destruction, searching in the dusty gloom for any sign of life. He eventually found it in the form of rustling and grunting noises coming from one corner. When he made it around a vast pile of pots and pans and a watch display, he found Jesse rooting around, backed against a wall with a massive spread of books in front of him. He sat on one of the many couches Hanzo had seen throughout the store-- though this was the only one with even a smidgen of available space to sit on.

“Greetings,” Hanzo said cautiously as he approached.

Jesse startled at Hanzo’s voice.

“Jesus, you’re quiet,” he huffed, a hand over his heart. “Warn a guy next time.” Then he did a double-take. “Well, well,” he said, smiling. “Someone tidied up. Lookin’ good, Shimada.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo said awkwardly. He nervously ran his hand over the smooth surface of his freshly shaved scalp. “It feels good to clean up every now and then.”

Jesse laughed belly-deep and gestured around them. “Yeah, I suppose it does. You ready to give me a hand?”

“Indeed,” Hanzo said, nodding. “Where should I start?”

“I’d say plunk yourself in one corner and just work your way outward,” Jesse said amiably, gesturing at the room as a whole. “I’ve got plenty of tables and shelves-- it’s just a matter of arranging all of it.”

Hanzo worked for several long minutes making a path for himself-- righting toppled stands, shuffling aside stacks of papers-- until he got to one wall. The shelf itself was intact, and it looked like nothing had been pushed into it too badly...but it was still a mess. Hanzo sifted through the boxes and cartons in front of him. In one box, he found what looked like dozens of cheap notebooks-- the kind you could buy for less than a dollar at a bargain store. Their thin papers were folded and bent and drawn on. Many had water-warped pages or extra slips of paper sticking out of them.

“What do you want me to do with these?” Hanzo asked, holding one up so Jesse could see it from across the room.

“What is that, a journal?” Jesse asked, squinting. “Throw it in the ‘resource’ area.”

“Resource?” Hanzo asked.

“Yeah, sometimes people need emotional components. Remember I told you about the postcards? Letters, journals, hair, tears, all that good stuff. People pay big bucks for that kind of thing, but they can be hard to get ahold of. People get real suspicious of folks who buy bodily fluids, y’know? Though it’s more like cast-offs, really...”

As Jesse rambled on about the social implications of buying hair from barbers, Hanzo rifled through the notebooks in front of him. Many of them were quite interesting in passing, though the handwriting was often atrocious. One even appeared to be in some kind of code. He sifted through them-- jumping when a small one fell out of the leaning stack and thwacked on the floor, nearly starting an avalanche. The notebook fell open at Hanzo’s feet, and when he leaned down to pick it up, he inhaled sharply.

It was full of sketches of...legs. His legs. Or...not his legs, but legs like his. Wooden, gnarled, etched with Japanese. Yet these sketched legs did not stop at the calves, like Hanzo’s. They worked up the whole leg, to a waist that became sketchy graphite and ink scratched angrily into the paper so that deep welts pressed into the pages behind it. Hanzo flipped through the notebook quickly, staring at the pictures. Most disturbingly, many of them appeared to be self-portraits, drawn from the angle of the artist’s eyes.

Reluctantly, Hanzo flipped to the front. There was a name, in both English and Japanese: Genji Shimada.

His fears both ignited and confirmed, Hanzo quickly snuck the notebook into his back pocket. Jesse wouldn’t notice, right? There had to be a reason Genji’s notebook was here, but Hanzo felt like he had more right to the thing than Jesse did. Genji was his brother, after all.

“So,” Hanzo said loudly as he shelved the remaining notebooks and shoved a handful of lampshades next to them. “What did Reinhardt come in for?”

“Oh, you know,” Jesse said vaguely. “He’s always looking for meeting places. We talked the other night-- thought maybe I could make some space for him here.” He laughed. “Though now that’s looking a little moot.”

“Yes,” Hanzo said. He looked around the room, thoroughly destroyed. “Though...you have the space, as you said. Lots of shelving. I count five couches here, plus the chairs. Surely you could arrange something?”

“But where would I put the hundreds of grandmotherly afghans if I didn’t have a couch to pile them on? What about the mannequin?” Jesse asked Hanzo with a smile. “Ol’ Gerard needs a place to sit.”

“Perhaps he could model all those nice hats I see stacked in the corner,” Hanzo suggested. “Put him in the window and you might even have a burglar deterrent.”

“Yeah, true,” Jesse admitted. Hanzo watched his back flex under a straining flannel as the shopkeeper pushed a box onto a high shelf. “Probably got a non-cursed coffee pot in here somewhere, too. Could serve drinks.”

“Do you have a cursed coffee pot in here?” Hanzo asked, bewildered.

“Probably.” Jesse grinned at Hanzo over his shoulder. “Got lots of odds and ends. As you can see.”

Hanzo laughed, and turned back to his work. Unsure of where to put some things, Hanzo settled for tidying miscellaneous stacks and gently shuffling them so that like items were grouped together. He made his way over to a couch, steadily rearranging things as he went, until at last he was able to take a seat next to the aforementioned mannequin, Gerard. The notebook burned a hole in his pocket as he flopped down on the dusty couch.

He sighed heavily, then coughed as a cloud of dust coated his throat.

“You alright?” Jesse called. He stepped over a few piles to thump Hanzo on the back. Hanzo had to shrug him off, waving his hands away until he could breathe again. “Here, let me get you some water.”

“Not cursed water?” Hanzo asked with a weak smile.

“Not today,” Jesse returned.

Hanzo relaxed back into the couch while he waited. Staring at the dim room--Jesse really needed better lighting; the lamps on the walls did little-- Hanzo pulled out the notebook from his back pocket. He needed to know more.

January 7th, said the opening line. Hanzo needs help. I don’t know how to give it to him…

“Hola,” came a slick female voice. Hanzo jumped, slamming the notebook closed and quickly shuffling it behind his back. He whipped his head around, but there was no one there.

“Who’s there?” Hanzo asked. There was nothing near him but the mannequin on his right and a pile of old records to his left.

“Ay, what a shame. We met before.”

And suddenly, the mannequin turned its head. Hanzo couldn’t help it: he screamed and jumped back, all thoughts of the notebook lost. He scrambled back, fists coming up to protect himself as the mannequin stood.

Then stopped.

And fell.

It clattered to the floor with a hollow plastic rattle. Hanzo’s heart danced in his throat as he stared at it. Was it possessed? A ghost? Was that even a thing? A ghost mannequin?

Then another person stepped out from behind a tall stack of crockery. It was the woman from before-- she was even shorter in person, round-faced with a wicked smirk on her lips.

“Lo siento,” she purred. “I’m still working on the connections on that one. You’re right: a few hats and he’d be truly formidable.”

“Wh-who--?” Hanzo gasped. His fear was quickly turning to anger. He stood up, careful of his still-aching knees, and primly dusted himself off. “How did you do that?”

“Loose lips sink ships,” the woman said with a wink. She leaned on the teetering pile of records in front of her and put her face in her hands as she smiled at Hanzo.  “The best secrets are trade secrets. But you can call me Sombra.”

The name rang a bell, but Hanzo couldn’t quite place it. “You answered my Athena call.” It was not a question. Hanzo readjusted his clothes on himself until he felt more secure, avoiding looking at the woman.

“Ooh, smart boy,” Sombra teased. “Jesse’s lucky to have you.” She cackled to herself, light glinting off her piercings and the bit of wire that seemed to run along her scalp. “You should hear how he talks about you, you know. ‘Ooh, he broods all the time, he’s so handso--’”

“Olivia Colomar, I will skin you alive if you say one more word .”

Jesse appeared to the side, a pitcher of water in one hand and a couple of cups in the other. His feet planted firmly to either side, he looked like he was just about ready to throw the pitcher at Sombra.

“Aw, shoot,” Sombra-- Olivia?-- whispered, and ducked away, out of range of the water. Hanzo briefly wondered if Jesse would actually throw something at the woman. “Just saying hi, jefe .”

Jesse frowned. “Don’t you have work you can go ‘say hi’ to somewhere? In the back, maybe?”

“Hey, c’mon, we can’t all be workhorses like you,” Sombra said, backing away through the path Hanzo had made in the wreckage. “I’m not some automaton that can fiddle with old broken pedazos de mierda all day. I make new things, remember? I gotta get those creative juices flowing somehow.”

“Honestly,” Jesse muttered, setting the pitcher down on a free table. “You have a degree in all this bullshit and you still act like a kid. Who trained you to use the starter magic kits when you were little? Who gave you work space for your doctoral research?”

“Gabe did,” Sombra returned easily. “This was his shop when we made our contract, remember? I came with the property. I’m as much a part of this place as your shitty mannequin.”

Jesse threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine. Just-- stay in the back, would you? I’ve got enough of a mess out here without you throwing magic around willy-nilly. Not everyone is used to seeing it fly all freeform. You’re gonna scare someone.”

Hanzo did not mention that he had already been sc-- startled-- but Sombra’s smile said she knew, and that that was what mattered. She was gone in a flash, leaving purple sparks in her wake.

“Show off,” Jesse muttered. He let out a sigh of relief and poured Hanzo a glass of water before plunking himself down on the only other seat available-- Gerard’s vacated spot on the couch. Hanzo sipped his water while he tried to think of something to say. There was the journal, which he would now need to recover, and obviously Jesse had some thoughts about Hanzo that he would need to address. He decided to go for the easy play first.

“So…” Hanzo trailed off awkwardly. “Brooding, eh?”

“Sorry,” Jesse said quickly. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Besides, Sombra-- is a brat who shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” he said, loudly calling out the last word. Hanzo noticed that the curtain separating the store from the back flapped a little. “Sombra usually has good intentions, but she’s nosy as hell. Don’t let her get you down.”

“She is your… employee?” Hanzo ventured, taking another sip of his water. It was cold enough to soothe his dust-parched throat. Condensation ran down the sides of the glass and cooled his hot palms.

“Friend? Step-sibling? Associate?” Jesse mused, scratching at his beard. “Like she said, she came with the shop. She’s workin’ on her doctorate in translocative magics right now.”

“I see,” Hanzo said, a bit bewildered. “Is that how she made--er-- Gerard move?”

“Probably,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. “She’s always fiddling with stuff. That headgear?” he said, gesturing along his own head in the same place Sombra had shaved her hair off. “Little thing she rigged up herself. Lets her direct magic more fluidly-- from her fingertips instead of through another conduit. You’re a user, right?”

“A little,” Hanzo said uncomfortably. “Though I have more experience with brewing potions than with casting.”

“Well, it’s all the same at the root. Magic flows, we direct it, and ideally it behaves.”

“Ideally?” Hanzo arched an eyebrow.

“Well, look around you,” Jesse said amiably. He raised his glass and gestured around the room. Hanzo stared at the piles of odds and ends, seemingly with nothing in common between any of them. At Hanzo’s blank stare, he continued. “Some of ‘em are components for potions, but a lot of this shit was cursed. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Jesse said, waving away Hanzo’s immediate protests. “I clean ‘em up before I put them out here. That’s my job.”

“I thought you just sold brick-a-brack,” Hanzo admitted. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; Genji did recommend you to me because you solved a curse on a family heirloom a few years ago.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said with a grin. “He had this wicked sword. Got it to stop spreading disease with a swipe-- now it just makes a fun light show.”

“It was good work,” Hanzo said cautiously. “There were many such items in our family’s possession.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Jesse said. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, spreading his legs and idly tapping poor Gerard with his boot. “Listen, pal,” Jesse started, turning at last to stare at Hanzo with clear eyes. Hanzo gulped and looked away, suddenly getting the feeling that Jesse was staring right through him. “Lots of people come in here with problems, and most of ‘em don’t want to deal with them. They drop off their curses or bad luck or whatever is following them around, they pay me to deal with it, and then they get out and pretend it never happened.”

“I see,” Hanzo said quietly. Was that what he thought Hanzo was doing?

“But you--” Jesse gestured at Hanzo with his glass. “You’re not like that. Not really. I can tell. Even if you don’t want to be, you’re a good guy.”

“Even if I don’t want to be?” Hanzo questioned.

“Yeah, Mr. I-am-not-a-nice-man. You have problems, sure, but so do loads of folks. But you took the first step: walked in here, addressed the problem, tried to get help. I mean, obviously my first attempt wasn’t that great--”

“No, it was fine,” Hanzo said hurriedly. “I was just-- perhaps not--”

“Ready?” Jesse asked. Hanzo nodded. He still needed to get the notebook out from under Jesse’s back. It had probably fallen deep into the recesses of the couch by now.

“Yes,” he acquiesced. “I am working to change, but it’s been...difficult.”

“Genji mentioned something about that,” Jesse said. “And I’m trying to be reasonable. But if you really want to solve this-- really get to the root of the problem--”

“I need to take responsibility,” Hanzo cut in. He nodded, still staring at his knees. “Yes, I have come to the same conclusion myself.”

“Wasn’t what I was going to say, but sure,” Jesse said with a smile. “What was it you said before? ‘Don’t presume to know me?’ Maybe keep that in mind here. We’ve all got depths we don’t show people up front, my friend. Give it time, and maybe we’ll get there. We don’t need to be best friends to get a good job done.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo agreed. He held up his nearly empty glass, and Jesse clinked their two cups together.

“To tentative friendship,” Jesse said.

“To a fruitful partnership,” Hanzo returned.

They both took a swallow. Hanzo felt rejuvenated by the rest and the declarations, and remembering the bakery next door, he took a leap.

“I would like to thank you,” Hanzo said, trying to shake off the stiffness in his voice, “for your help-- no, don’t stop me; I know what I’ve asked of you. Let me buy you lunch.”

“I…” Jesse paused. “Yeah, alright. What were you thinking?”

“Next door,” Hanzo said decisively. “You look like the kind of man who has a sweet tooth.”

“Hey now,” Jesse said with a laugh. “You makin’ a comment ‘bout my gut?”

“I would not dream of it,” Hanzo said, laughing. “Come with me. It will do you good to get out of the dust.”

Hanzo snagged the journal from the crack in the couch cushions when Jesse’s back was turned, tucking it into his back pocket before following the artificer.

They walked together through the (now much cleaner) shop and squeezed through the front door. Once outside, Hanzo and Jesse walked amiably down the little alleyway to the street, where they joined the crowd heading into the bakery for a light lunch.

“Dunno what they’ve got here,” Jesse admitted as they stepped into line. “Never really did come out to say hi after I set up shop.”

“Sombra said the shop was there before you,” Hanzo said. “When did you join? It has your name on it.”

“Oh, you know, it wasn’t mine at first. I was an...apprentice of sorts?” He said thoughtfully, scratching at his beard. “Gabriel owned it before me, but I was getting into so much trouble he had to keep me nearby, and then I kinda just stuck with it.”

“So you’ve always been a trouble-maker,” Hanzo said. “Not just recently. Are you sure Sombra is the only nosy one?”

“Excuse you,” Jesse protested. “People brought me their problems. I just didn’t know what to do with them, so I may or may not have gotten into some-- er-- mishaps, let’s call them. Gabe pulled my ass out of several small fires, and before I knew it I was gainfully employed.”

“Ha!” Hanzo laughed. “It sounds like quite a journey.”

“Sure was,” Jesse said with a chuckle. He gave his order to the barista before continuing, rambling on as Hanzo paid for their order. “Got to travel for it, too. All over the place, countries I’d never even thought about visiting.”

“Oh?” Hanzo prompted.

“Yeah,” Jesse continued. “India, Pakistan, Italy, even Russia at one point.”

“And you came back here?” Hanzo asked. “After all that traveling?”

Jesse shrugged. “This was home. Why did you and Genji settle here?”

Hanzo stalled by collecting their food and locating a table, wondering how much Jesse already knew and how much he should reveal.

“You-- don’t have to go into detail,” Jesse allowed when they finally sat down. “Lord knows Genji doesn’t talk about it too much. Y’all have your reasons, I’m sure.”

“I…” Hanzo swallowed. “There were some...problems. In the family. And when things came out, so to speak, Genji and I got away with what we could and tried to travel as far as possible from our family’s influence. America seemed like a good start.”

“Wow,” Jesse said. “And the dragons?”

“The Shimada clan has always had dragons,” Hanzo said. “As far back as the records go. Though I will admit that I have modernized our practices no small amount.”

Jesse shook his head, and for a moment Hanzo worried that Jesse was about to criticize him. Instead, Jesse just clapped him on the shoulder. “Inspiring, really,” Jesse said.

“It wasn’t fast,” Hanzo found himself saying. “We did not have many resources at first, and only the one breeding pair. The first year, when we were still finding our legs--”

Jesse laughed, then stopped abruptly. “Sorry, is it rude to laugh at that? Finding your legs--”

“No,” Hanzo said sheepishly. “It is apt enough a colloquialism. When we first started on this continent, I did not have my barn. I barely even had a house. Genji was unable to be with the dragons we did have, so he had to live elsewhere while I found boarding for the animals. Over time I was able to buy land and expand my business, and in the last couple years we have even thrived.”

“Until now,” Jesse said, looking at Hanzo’s crestfallen face.

“Yes,” Hanzo said miserably. “Until now.”

There was a long minute as the two of them ate their food in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Then Jesse slammed his cup down.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he said decisively. “Hear me out before you reject it.”

Hanzo nodded.

“First,” Jesse said, holding up a finger. “You let me help you. Really let me help you. No more pushing me away, no more demanding you be seen as a villain. You won’t get pity from me, but damned if I don’t think you need a push.”

“But--” Hanzo started.

“No,” Jesse insisted. “Your way, my way, whatever-- we have to make this work. How much longer in your-- did you call it an egg window?”

“There are four more weeks until the Egg Moon. Three weeks and five days, to be precise.”

“Then for three weeks and five days, you are going to be the most social man you’ve ever been, Hanzo Shimada.” Hanzo balked, but Jesse grabbed his hands and plowed on. “Lunches, dinners, weekend coffees, festivals, whatever you can squeeze in.”

“The dragons--” Hanzo tried to interject.

“--care about you and rely on you to be healthy and happy,” Jesse concluded for him. “It’ll be weird at first, and if you hate me when we’re done you can kick my ass to the curb. But until you get eggs out of your critters, you and me are gonna stick together. Agreed?”

Hanzo stared at him open-mouthed, flabbergasted. Jesse was still holding his hands, he realized with a flash, and Hanzo tugged them back under the guise of needing to brush crumbs from his shirt.

“If you think it will work,” Hanzo said firmly, “then I will do it.”

“Fantastic,” Jesse said. The man pulled out a notebook from his pocket and started flipping through it. “Now, let me see what I’ve got.”

Hanzo watched him as he turned pages. The sun spilling in through the floor-to-ceiling window brought out the reddish-brown tones in Jesse’s thick hair, shining off the odd curl here or there where it was particularly overdue for a trim. Hanzo was overcome with the urge to move a lock of it out of Jesse’s face, but he resisted. Instead he crunched into the last of his bear claw, spilling crumbs and sliced almonds into his beard.

“And you accused me of having a sweet tooth,” Jesse teased as he went through his papers. “Used to know a gal who loved bear claws, too. Though that might’ve been because she could turn into one of the damn things.”

“What?” Hanzo spluttered around a mouthful of crumbs. “Into a pastry?”

“Ha! No. She was cursed. Turned into a bear when she got real overwhelmed. It was mostly harmless, but we got her sorted out in the end anyway.”

“You… and Gabe?” Hanzo ventured.

“Yup,” Jesse said. He looked up from his notebook. “I was his apprentice at the time. He was training me up for the real work. This was out in Russia, mind, and in a pretty remote area. There weren’t a lot of qualified magic users around, and the woman had connections who had connections who knew Gabe, so we flew on out…”

Hanzo listened to the story with interest. Jesse really did have a strong background in his work, he realized as he listened. It wasn’t just luck, and he wasn’t just a busybody. He had experience, if Hanzo could get his head out of his ass long enough to utilize it. His methods may not have been straightforward, but...Hanzo resolved to follow them, regardless.

“Where is your mentor these days?” Hanzo asked. “If he is no longer running the shop?”

Jesse’s mood immediately soured. “Out of the game,” he said grimly. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay,” Hanzo said simply. He had enough secrets; he didn’t need to push for others’.

Jesse’s mood brightened again when he found what he was looking for in his little stack of papers. He tapped the notebook and turned it around so Hanzo could look at its contents.

“Now,” Jesse said. “About our plan of attack...”

Hanzo arrived home in a decisively better mood than he had started with that morning. 

“Tadaima ,” he called out. He listened for the scrabbling of little feet on the floorboards but heard nothing. Searching through the small house, Hanzo found the two petite dragons cozied up in his armchair like one big blue knot, snoozing gently. He smiled fondly and let them rest. They would need their energy if they were going to produce eggs any time soon.

He eyed the talisman as he passed it. It was still on the table where Fareeha had dropped it the day before after it had reacted so explosively to her emotions. You can’t stop me, he thought defiantly. A Shimada knows dragons, and the dragons know a Shimada. We will get through this.

He walked into his bedroom, shrugging off his coat into the growing laundry pile. He slowly pulled Genji’s notebook out of his back pocket and set it on his bedside table.

It was time to face his demons.

Chapter Text

Hanzo hummed a happy tune while he went about his chores. There were three weeks and two days left until the Egg Moon, and he was on track to a better social life-- and, hopefully, better business prospects.

Jesse had come over for dinner the night after Hanzo came to shop; it had been a small affair, only sandwiches and tea in Hanzo's living room, but it was nice all the same. They'd talked more in-depth about Jesse's plans and Hanzo's preferences, staying up late into the night.

The next day Hanzo had met up for drinks with Fareeha, talking more about the breeding process for phoenixes and trading tricks for dealing with moody brooders. They, too, had spent more than a couple hours together, staying at the restaurant they'd gone to for lunch for so long that they ended up getting dinner there, as well.

He should have been exhausted. It was more socialization than he'd had in many, many months. But instead he felt rejuvenated-- full of hope and energy and ready for whatever else was about to come his way. He'd even called and made an appointment to see Angela-- or should he call her Dr. Ziegler?-- in her office later in the day, after his chores were done.

There was only one thing weighing on his mind: Genji's notebook. Its contents, and how it had come to be in Jesse's possession, were still a mystery. Hanzo was loathe to bring it up with his brother, fearing the worst-- that perhaps Genji still secretly resented Hanzo, or perhaps had sold the story to some reporter. There were a lot of people that still desperately wanted to know why the Shimada family business had collapsed in Japan. it was very possible that Genji had been approached by people that wanted his story.

Like Angela.

—  — —

Hanzo rushed through his chores that morning, scrubbing down the barn and feeding his charges with gusto. Persephone nuzzled at him hard enough that he nearly lost his footing again, and Abelard was so affectionate that Hanzo almost couldn’t leave his chamber because the old wyrm kept wrapping himself around Hanzo’s boddy, snorting and sniffing him. Every dragon — even Itzi — seemed to be in a better mood, and it made Hanzo’s work light.

After a perfunctory scrub, Hanzo headed out to his visit with Angela. The office wasn’t far. Public transport would do in a pinch, Hanzo supposed. He hadn’t yet invested in any kind of travel device. As he was crushed into the local bus, rattling away from the country road he lived on, Hanzo at once missed the convenience of McCree’s serape. He tried to shove back the fact that he also missed the warmth of the man himself; the bus was full and yet also somehow chilly, leaving Hanzo irritated and frazzled by the time he stepped off in front of Angela’s office.

Mercy First Magical Medical Care was a small building with a quaint waiting room full of mismatched squashy chairs that, Hanzo thought with a quirk of his lips, looked like they may well have come from McCree’s stockroom.

• Soba is a girl, Udon is a boy
• Soba and Egg are sisters
• Hanzo is a trans man, and was experimenting with brewing potions and other magic because his family did not understand his need to transition. His brother agreed to help, and it all backfired, effectively cursing both of them.
• Hanzo was looking for a spell for “transformation” and “growth” and royally fucked it up by combining the wrong characters/pronouncing them wrong.

Ch 4:

• Opens with: Hanzo wakes. The notebook is still there.
• Hanzo sees Angela in the beginning of the chapter. She asks if Hanzo has heard from Fareeha yet. Hanzo says he will talk to her. She also said that she contacted Genji to get some more info on the wood from him, to reference with Hanzo’s case.
• Mention: true magic requires a lot of study. Runes are easy. Directing real magic takes time and effort. Hanzo learned potion brewing from unconventional means.
• This makes Hanzo nervous. He got his official Brewer’s License long after he started studying, and is worried that Angela will report him. She doesn’t mention it (does she even know?) but does mention that young witches often make mistake.
• After his exam, Angela makes it clear that Jesse is making eyes at him, making an off-hand comment that she’s tempted to prescribe some R&R.  Flustered, Hanzo denies it, but it gets him thinking.
• Apparently Jesse has been going to the meetings like he took Hanzo to on the regular for years. It’s always different people, though. Not everyone comes back.
• Angela addresses his body, and potions. Hanzo cautiously asks about continuing effects of the magic. He still doses himself with regular strength potions to maintain his form and brews them himself.
• After the appointment: Hanzo looks at the notebook again. Calls Genji. Egg has laid, and Genji shows the speckled green eggs off. Hanzo carefully brings up the notebook, asking things like “did you ever write...when we first changed, how did you deal with it…” etc etc because Genji was in medical care for a long time (how he met Angela).
• Genji evades, says that this is perhaps not the time to discuss it. Hanzo balls up his emotions. Chitchats about the dragons.
• Next they try a sporting event: magic lacrosse of sorts. Different balls, some decoys, some explosives. Maybe junkrat supplies tickets since he does some work for the teams?
• “You like sports?” “I...have practiced archery since I was young.” “Weapons, huh? I’ve got a six-shooter I like to play with sometimes. Not as fancy as a wand, but we can’t all be mages, can we?”
• Before leaving for the game: feed the dragons. Wyvern becomes fond of mccree, preening in front of him. Hanzo finds this hilarious.
• Itzi is still a raging bitch in this chapter when they do sports but his feathers look better. Persephone has started to nest again, putting hanzo in a great mood when they leave for the game. Things are looking good
• Worn out from sports and good company, Hanzo sleeps better than he has in a long time.

Ch 5

• Hanzo invites McCree over for lunch, and they eat in his yard overlooking the paddock with charmed blankets beneath them like a picnic. persephone lumbers around the paddock with Hades. Hades is gathering brush, but Persephone is stretching her wings out in a soft patch of heather. Hanzo is very fond of her.
• Mccree brings sandwiches and beer and they wind down from the previous day. All in all, Hanzo seems to be doing better. The sky is clear and spring is clearly on the way, pink buds on the trees around them.
• Mccree makes a note that Hanzo looks particularly handsome when he’s relaxed. Hanzo musters up the courage to say he likes McCree’s beard. It’s very...thick.
• Jesse mentions that he’s taken his decision to redecorate the shop seriously. Hanzo offers to help with some of the organizational work. “And some fireproofing, since your filing system seems to be hazardous” McCree makes a note that he’s really getting into all this werewolf stuff; Reinhardt wants to use the shop as a safe place to meet other packs.
• While cleaning up, Jesse asks after Soba and Udon. Hanzo says that they’ve been quiet for a couple days but are probably just making a mess somewhere on the grounds. They don’t like to stray far.

Ch 6:

• Talks to fareeha one afternoon on a weekend. Jesse had said that he would be over that evening to pick him up for another outing, but hanzo hangs with fareeha at her phoenix breeding center.
• Cue phoenix lore: roost in cinnamon trees! Fareeha has a large inherited manor and she has charmed it to be basically a greenhouse. Hanzo notes that jesse is friends with some eccentrics. The house smells amazing
• Fareeha has a lot of burns and has been seeing Angela a lot the last two weeks; almost as much as Hanzo has seen McCree.
• She is shy, but Angela seems receptive. Fareeha is tall and muscular and brave, but soft around Angela. Her and hanzo become Bros
• Fareeha has known McCree for a long time; the professional meetings have been going on for some time, after all, and her mother was friends with Jesse’s mentor. She mentions that Reinhardt is like an uncle to her and he was actually chaperoning her that first evening.
• Hanzo shows her the charm to fireproof and strengthen fabric and they set about making her a better set of work clothes
• While they work, Hanzo mentions Itzi; Fareeha says she knows a young man in Brazil that is researching dragon noises and their interpretations since they seem to be exceedingly intelligent and have a large variety of sounds. Apparently cats only make X amount of noises, and dogs make Y amount of noises, but dragons have 1224 documented variations of sound in their language.
• Mccree picks him up from Fareeha’s in the afternoon. For once, McCree is dressed up. Hanzo is starting to acknowledge that he has some romantic feelings and is excited to go somewhere with him.
• It turns out to be a speed dating group, horrifying Hanzo.
• The two men and the one woman he talked to find hanzo’s interest in dragons unusual and unsettlingly intense; like he doesn’t have time or attention for anyone else. (admittedly, this is probably true)  Hanzo is ashamed that he has attached himself to McCree so quickly, just like the wyvern, preening for anybody.
• The actual scene at the dating meeting is brief-- Hanzo gets bored/angry/embarrassed and leaves, and ends up at  a the bookstore/cafe from chapter 2.
• The bookstore is owned by Winston and barista is Tracer.
• Tracer reassures him as she makes him tea, and hanzo takes a seat in one of the ugly orange armchairs.
• McCree finds him, assures him that it’s fine. He’s sorry that he pushed Hanzo into this. Hanzo pushes him away (actually mad at himself) and rushes home.
• He cries when he gets home because udon and soba have reappeared and are noodled up on his bed, and when he pets along their sides he feels that soba has tiny marbles-- eggs-- in her tummy. She’ll be laying this year. And it’s probably all because of McCree, a man he cannot allow himself to have.
• After speed dating the snappers seem confused, but have begun digging furiously the mud. Hanzo takes this as a good sign. He furiously mucks the barns, overworking his newly-repaired leg.

Ch 7:

• Hanzo wallows this time, though he tries not to. For some reason the dragons don’t actively destroy their nests this time. Hanzo watches over the ones that are eggy, particularly Soba. He’s exasperated by her shredding one of his favorite work shirts, but surmises that this is all the more reason to replace his wardrobe after how much difficulty he’d had finding anything for the events Jesse took him to.
• Takes a break to go shopping. Runs into Fareeha and Angela on their second date-- they invite him along and relay their disastrous first date. (an attempt by Fareeha to show off a baby phoenix, ending with singed hair) and say that Hanzo and McCree have basically been on more dates than they have.
• Hanzo looks over the talisman when he gets home. Looks at his dragons, who are doing well. Considers how different his life is compared to a month ago. Talks to Genji, who he hasn’t heard from since the time he tried to bring up the journal. He tries again. Genji tells his story.
• A rare serious moment. Genji has known McCree since his initial body curse years ago. He lets Hanzo know about the debilitating branching curse he had that was affecting his limbs-- roots taking hold over his bones-- and how mccree and angela worked together to help him. Hanzo had no idea because he’d been absent for that time in his brother’s life — which he feels horribly guilty about.
• Genji says he gave the books to McCree because he no longer wanted to hold onto the sentiment the represented. He was in a better place, and had no need to wallow in those pitiful memories. YAY HEALTHY SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS
• Hanzo getes his nerve up and invites McCree over as an apology for the other night.
• The whole time he’s cooking Soba and Udon are making mischief around the house
• Hanzo tries to get soba to sit still because eggs but it’s hard to make her stay calm.
• When McCree shows up, he’s dressed a little better than usual and uncharacteristically awkward.
• Hanzo serves food (hot pot?) and has to keep Soba and Udon from picking at the meat. Scolds McCree for throwing them scraps. They get more than enough of their share of offal from the whole animals Hanzo buys to feed them.
• Mccree says that he’s started renovations. Thanks Hanzo for his help recommending techniques and contractors. Hanzo says he’d be glad to help again.
• Mccree mentions that Fareeha had bullied him into being a better man, and Sombra was being unusually quiet lately, which means she knew what was happening too.
• Topic change: Gabe was cursed, but was going through treatment. Sombra was working on it, since Gabe couldn’t seem to stay in one piece. Sombra and Angela actually are working together with briefly mentioned Moira to make him solid again.
• Hanzo tries to make his grand stand, but is reluctant to break the good atmosphere. He starts by thanking McCree for his help with the talisman, then awkwardly tries to get around to his point. Manages to get out that he’s had a more intense experience than he’d initially expected. Mccree says that he understands. They reach to hold hands, but stop.
• There’s something there.
• But McCree breaks it, with “gee Hanzo, what a good friendship we’ve built.”
• Hanzo glows with contentedness, but they don’t bridge the gap.

Ch 8:

• Content with the fact that the dragons are eggy and getting ready to lay, McCree lays off the outings and instead spends time helping hanzo prepare the barn for new arrivals. Itzi is even healthy, and hanzo notes that he will soon be released back into the wild, which is why they are prepping his room to hold hatchlings.
• Mccree admits Hanzo was a Sight when he caught him bathing the dragons.
• Hanzo laughs. Persephone has massive eggs in her belly, and is overly affectionate with hanzo-- even McCree. The wyvern coos over McCree. All the dragons are happy.
• In a fit of inspiration, McCree ducks out the barn. Comes back with the talisman, followed by Soba and Udon, who are not usually allowed in the barn. In his glove, it does nothing. (or out, and hanzo can feel his happiness?)
• Hanzo is reluctant, but he takes it. There’s immediately a cacophony as the dragons all express their happiness, snorting and pressing up on their cage doors.
• Soba and Udon trip hanzo, putting him in mccree’s arms.
• Hanzo laughs near to the point of tears, and that’s when McCree kisses him.
• It’s chaste, it’s sweet, Hanzo smiles so widely he can’t keep it up and drops his head onto McCree’s shoulder, laughing at his ridiculous animals.

• They know better than he does, apparently.

Epilogue:

• End of summer, months later: At the reopening of McCree’s store. It’s new, and organized. Hanzo helped restain some of the old wood and build displays.
• Reorganzied to make meeting space
• Rein is tangentially involved in this.
• In a quiet moment, Hanzo reveals a baby dragon in his hands. It’s a pygmy breed-- offspring of Hanzo’s own dragons. Very small, like a baby snake. It won’t grow much, as it was a runt and not fit for sale. Hanzo hands it to McCree with a promise that even if they part, the dragon is his. He settles it in McCree’s breast pocket, where it settles down to sleep while McCree goes around greeting customers.
• A Happy Ending