Work Text:
He woke up to a gray ceiling. Gray bed, gray sky, gray hair. Hanzo threw his covers away and swung his legs off the bed, walking to the bathroom as if in a daze. Shower. Shave. Brush teeth. Look up.
He saw himself in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes once again (the nightmares won’t stop), gray hair at his temples (why did I listen?), a perpetual frown on his face and emptiness in his eyes (...). He looked away with a sigh.
17 minutes to get out of the house, far too little. He went over his routine in his mind and realized he didn’t have breakfast. Oh well, he wasn’t hungry. 3 minutes to reach the bus station, 24 minutes for the bus to arrive, 76 minutes to reach the office. A stiff nod to Brigitte, a quick wave to Satya. 1 minute and a half to reach his place. He’s early.
10 hours and 13 minutes later he finished work. He’d stayed for an hour and 13 minutes too long. 19 minutes, 71 minutes, he’s at home. Suddenly the day is over, and Hanzo didn’t even see it go. He spares a glance at the clock: 7:25. He has two hours and thirty-five minutes to spare.
He makes coffee as he considers taking a quick nap, but no. Better not have nightmares to distract him. He drinks the coffee, setting up a chapter of “Queer Eye” to distract him for a while. Brigitte had recommended it, maybe it would help him pass the time. Hanzo knew it wouldn’t help, but he didn’t want to let Brigitte down.
(Not her too.)
Three episodes later and he still had 50 minutes left. He went to his closet, grabbed a deep blue shirt with a black suit--made sure to keep it open and french-tuck, this was a semiformal event--, spared a glance in the mirror doing his best not to look at his face, grabbed his guitar case and left half an hour early.
The job was simple, and not a single drop of blood landed on his Armani suit.
The french tuck stayed put and made him feel elegant, he’d make sure to thank Brigitte on monday.
Back home by 2, he changed clothes and collapsed on the couch. No use sleeping after a job.
No use sleeping at all.
Barely one chapter of Queer Eye later, he was snoring on the couch.
He woke up with a start, his eyelids heavy but his mind alert. There was someone with him.
“Relájate, amigo. No vengo a lastimarte.” Spanish, central Mexican accent, female. Not here to hurt him, she says.
He looks around but no one is on sight. He’s not dreaming.
“What do you want from me?” His voice is raspy, he doesn’t remember when was the last time he talked.
“I’ve been watching you for a while, me and my boss. We wanna hire you for something important.” The woman sounds confident. Hanzo knows he can’t refuse.
“Lead the way.”
Hanzo wondered if he would come out of this alive. Honestly, he didn’t care either way. The woman showed herself soon appearing seemingly from thin air, an overconfident latina with violet clothes and knowledge in her eyes. She guided him into the night, downtown, through alleys, through dark streets. She stopped before an abandoned building and opened the door easily, taking him through the dark. He heard another door open inside and possibly crossed it, before everything was bright.
“So! I’m pretty sure you don’t have a clue where you are, right?” The look in her eyes said she knew exactly what Hanzo was thinking. Hanzo shook his head, only partially lying.
“Well, not like we can’t erase your mind later if we need to. Come on, follow me. You gotta meet the big boss.” She set off out of the hallway they were in, taking him to a deep circular room with similar hallways and doors in a downwards--and upwards-- spiral. Looking up, Hanzo wondered how this building could possibly be hidden in the busy streets of Tokyo.
She led him up. Higher, higher, higher. They passed multiple people with increasingly ridiculous outfits, some at least centuries old and some that could have come from a science fiction movie. Hanzo followed with his head down. People around him whispered amongst themselves but Hanzo couldn’t follow their conversations. More than one stared at him for a few seconds too long. After a few minutes they reached glass corridors leading to offices as normal as they came, the only thing strange about them the people sitting behind the desks.
Hanzo noticed a young woman in at least half of a victorian dress, another in traditional Chinese clothing, yet another in a strange colorful bodysuit, and finally…
Hanzo frowned. There was a--very attractive--man dressed as a cowboy like straight from a western behind the bar of what seemed like the cafeteria. This place was giving Hanzo quite the headache.
“We’re here.” The woman said with the same confident tone. Hanzo lifted his face fully, blinking and double-taking at the gorilla wearing glasses right in front of him.
“Yes, that is the usual reaction I get.” Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, the gorilla lifted a massive hand with a tired expression. “No, you are not dreaming, drugged, in virtual reality or under any kind of illusion. I am indeed a talking gorilla. Now, may I discuss business with you, Hanzo Shimada?”
Hanzo closed his gaping mouth, suddenly very intrigued and very much alert. The gorilla had kind eyes, but that didn’t make his situation any less dangerous. “What do you need of me?” He said warily. The woman walked next to the gorilla and leaned against him casually. The gorilla rolled his eyes.
“Olivia, I told you this was a diplomatic mission. Did you threaten him?” The woman elbowed the gorilla urgently, furiously whispering “Sombra, Winston! Te dije que soy Sombra!” before regaining composure almost comically fast. Although the frustrated smile was still present.
“No boss, I didn’t threaten him. Did I threaten you, Hanzito?” Hanzo glared.
“Do not call me that. She did not threaten me directly, but there was a threat implied.” For a second, Hanzo felt like a child accusing his sibling--Hanzo let that thought fade.
“I knew it. Forgive me, mister Shimada. I meant for this to be peaceful. No threats, implied or otherwise.” The gorilla--Winston, if Hanzo had heard correctly--pushed up his glasses awkwardly. It was annoying how genuine his expression was. Olivia rolled her eyes in an exaggerated motion.
“Come on, boss, it’s not fun if I get a gun to my face. Way better to make ‘em think they have a gun to their own, isn’t it?” Her smile was downright evil. Hanzo kept glaring until she huffed and left the room with a wave. Winston sighed.
“Please excuse Sombra, she took too well to the 21st century.” The gorilla said cryptically. Hanzo stopped glaring, but frowned at Winston. The gorilla kept talking. “You see, Hanzo, we are interested in your abilities. Nothing ominous, I assure you. We have explicitly forbidden murder under the name of our organization unless it is absolutely necessary.” Hanzo squinted.
“Then why go out of your way for an assassin?” Winston shuffled a bit and pushed up his glasses again.
“We are not interested in the murder part of your...occupation, mister Shimada. If Oli--Sombra is to be trusted, you are also a skilled actor, have impressive stealth and are mostly guided by honor, are you not?” Hanzo wondered where that information came from. Regardless, it was true. Mostly.
“I am no longer honor bound, sir. However, I was educated in martial arts of different kinds and theatre.” Winston nodded.
“Kabuki, right?” Hanzo nodded in turn. “Well, we are interested in those skills specifically. As for the honor, wouldn’t you like to follow it once again?”
Hanzo breathed in slowly, then out. His mind was a perfect blank.
“Honor was worthless when it really mattered.” He said, unwilling to share more. Winston stared in silence, assessing Hanzo’s expression.
“What about redemption, then?” Hanzo lifted his face so fast he felt pain spike up in the back of his neck. Winston lifted a hand at him and invited him to sit. Hanzo did warily. “Forgive me for being so...blunt, but what do you know of your brother’s occupation?” Hanzo flinched. It took him a second to dig out repressed memories. The memories did not appear.
“He...I don’t know. I remember about once a week he used to leave quite early, and return late at night looking as if he had been away for days. He...used to sleep for a full day after.” Winston nodded, his expression deep with empathy. He let the silence stretch for a minute.
“It makes sense that you can’t remember, because he never told you.” Hanzo eyed him with distrust. “His job was top secret. We couldn’t let him tell even his brother about it.” Winston dug around his desk, grabbing a file that he had obviously already placed within sight for the occasion. He passed it to Hanzo in silence.
He opened the file, and his chest ached immediately. Genji’s picture, with his obnoxiously green hair and big smile and alive. Hanzo forced himself to look away, closing the file altogether. Winston nodded solemnly.
“Genji was one of our best agents. He often talked about your superior skills but he knew you wouldn’t want to be recruited. I do not mean to guilt you into joining our organization, mister Shimada, but--”
“Is that not exactly what you’re doing?” Hanzo lifted an eyebrow, voice barely strong enough through the lump still in his throat. Winston coughed.
“Yes, well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll be honest with you, we are quite low on agents and we have known for long that you are one of our best options, if unapproachable for a long while. I understand that being so close to your brother’s past might be...painful, but if I understand correctly, you do seek redemption for your brother.” It wasn’t a question. Hanzo sighed and shook his head.
“What I did has no forgiveness, sir. Even if I joined you--which I don't even know what this even is yet--how could I possibly get redemption for murdering my own brother?” Winston steeled himself, gulping before Hanzo’s heavy gaze, but facing it still.
“I will not insist. This is your choice to make, Hanzo. You can keep on killing to live every other day, or you can join us and honor your brother’s legacy.” His voice was soft, but the finality of it shook Hanzo out of his thoughts.
A word echoed in his mind. Honor.
Genji.
Hanzo stood up, Winston following suit, before bowing deeply before the gorilla.
“I would like to join.” He said quietly, fighting tears that hadn’t fallen for years. Winston whispered back a thank you, and left the office to leave Hanzo to his thoughts.
When the tears stopped flowing--not many, to Hanzo’s relief and surprise--Hanzo realized he wasn’t quite sure what he’d signed up for. He took a few deep breaths and hoped his eyes weren’t too red or puffy, and set out to explore the unknown. Really, how hard would it be to find a talking gorilla?
Apparently, very hard. He walked outside, actually looking around him for once--noticing more stares and whispers that now made sense to him--, and wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes. Winston was nowhere to be found, and at some point Hanzo noticed he was very much lost in his new workplace and in his sleeping clothes to boot.
“Hey, handsome! Over here!” Hanzo looked around, quickly finding the source of the noise to be the hot cowboy behind the bar in the cafeteria. The man smiled and motioned him to come closer. Hanzo hoped he really was talking to him and he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself further.
The cafeteria was emptier that earlier, possibly because of the time. He reached the bar, and the cowboy leaned on it playfully.
“Howdy there, I don’t believe we’ve met. Winston just recruited you, didn’t he?” Hanzo took a second to decipher the accented english, before nodding. He took the offered hand and felt sparks at the physical contact, remembering just how painfully touch-starved he was. The cowboy tipped his hat at him with a smile.
“Nice meeting ya, Hanzo. Jesse McCree.” Hanzo was about to introduce himself when McCree’s words processed in his mind. The cowboy laughed.
“S’okay, I know who you are. And I also know Winston just left ya hangin’ and didn’t even explain what this job was about, didn’t he?” Hanzo nodded, not quite finding words yet. McCree shook his head amused. “He came in here a while ago and beelined for the peanut butter, all embarrassed and whatnot. Said he’d forgotten to tell you the details but he couldn’t just go back in there. Be patient with him, he may look intimidating but he’s really just an awkward guy inside.” Jesse took pity on him, turning to pour him a cup of real coffee with a smile.
“Anyways, sorry about our welcoming party, I know it sucked. Still, we’re glad to have you.” Hanzo sipped the coffee and felt some of his pain melt away slightly. Just enough for him to nod at the cowboy.
“Glad to be here.” He said quietly. McCree was silent for a second, before smiling again.
“Welcome to the Overwatch Ministry of Time, partner.”