Chapter Text
Overwatch was a place of new beginnings, a fresh start to those ravaged by time and past mistakes, a home to those who needed one. Despite it not being a new concept, and the fact that in this current iteration it was illegal, it still had a kind of aura of bright, shiny, and new. A ragtag group of people no one ever expected could work well together growing into a not very seamless family. But then again, was there really such a thing?
Genji had grown to see Overwatch as his safe haven, his unexpected family, not a single one of the same blood. It felt like it wasn’t real sometimes, that this had to be a hallucination or a trick of some kind, but no, it was very real. So it made sense that, once he had grown and found his own inner peace, at large part thanks to this new family, he had wanted to include his blood family.
It had taken some time and much patience, but the day Hanzo had finally appeared at one of the bases and requested he join Overwatch had been a very happy day. Genji believed this would be best for both Hanzo and their broken connection. Hanzo needed to heal, he needed another chance, he needed to learn to forgive himself. And hopefully Overwatch would give him that opportunity the same it had done for Genji.
The first few weeks were rough, to put it lightly. Hanzo could barely even look at Genji, let alone be in his presence, a guilty knot twisting up in his gut when he laid eyes on his cybernetic brother. Genji understood, he could be patient. They were sent on separate missions for the time being so their strained relationship would not cause any problems on the field. Again, Genji understood. Hanzo kept his distance from nearly everyone, really, but it did bring Genji very poignant joy when he occasionally saw Hanzo speaking freely with another Overwatch member. He was still awkward, and the conversation was sparse, but he was getting slowly more comfortable as time went on. Hanzo mostly preferred to speak to the older soldiers, mostly 76 and Reinhardt, but sometimes Genji would spot D. Va jabbering quickly at his nervous brother or Zarya applauding Hanzo for showing off his physique. The most surprising one, however, was when Hanzo and McCree spoke together, the two seemingly opposing forces finding an odd rhythm together. Genji certainly wasn’t going to complain, he was simply happy his brother was slowly growing more comfortable.
When Hanzo and Genji did finally sit down and have a proper talk, it had been nearly two months. It was awkward and tense, but it was something. Still they had difficulties but a few more talks later and they were at least able to be in the same room together. Hanzo tried to make an effort of asking how Genji was doing when they crossed paths, a simple question, but a step forward. They were getting somewhere, speaking on trivial things, but this was where the problems really surfaced.
They didn’t know each other anymore. They had both seen it coming, knew they would have to deal with it eventually, but it was much more jarring than they had expected. Their body language was different, their outlooks were different, even their fighting styles had changed. Genji always knew his brother to be relatively distant, but in the past it had been due to honor and he still had time to smile at his brother or sneak him a snack from the kitchens. Now that distance was due to sadness, a separation from the rest of the world so he could wallow in his guilt. And he believed he deserved it.
Hanzo, despite being a serious man, also used to have a biting, dark sense of humor, and was incredibly sarcastic. Now he never cracked any kind of jokes and his sarcasm verged on nasty at the best of times.
Genji was sure Hanzo wasn’t doing much better, expecting Genji to act out or be his past little shit self, but instead received a calm, collected, and very still man.
They had a long ways to go, a lot of things to unlearn and rediscover about one another, but Genji was confident it would work out. It only helped whenever he saw the things that he did recognize. The things he remembered Hanzo liking or disliking, the things he did unconsciously or consciously, showing themselves here, in this new version of his older brother he was relearning.
Genji, at first, hadn’t actually noticed that things he found familiar in Hanzo were still there. They were considered normal for him, why would he have spotted them? He didn’t blink twice when Hanzo would snatch an apple every time there were any in sight, or how he put so much creamer and sugar in his coffee it may as well have been syrup. He found it natural when Hanzo’s empty hands would clench and unclench when he was angry or how he would scratch his ear when he was flustered. He didn’t question why Hanzo’s room, at whatever base they were at, was always so cold or why he would cough, an attempt at covering a laugh, at any terrible anti joke anyone said within hearing range.
When Genji did notice that the old Hanzo, the Hanzo he was familiar with, was still there and bleeding through, was on their first mission together. They had been doing a lot better with communication and had been trusted to be able to act professionally if sent out together. It was a simple intel retrieval mission in King’s Row, one of Genji’s less preferred locations, but it wasn’t too bad during daylight hours. Somewhat. He still did not care for it.
It was day out, however, and they could not make any big moves until after the sunset, their apparent informant a paranoid omnic who refused to be seen outside of their home during daylight hours. So Genji, Hanzo, Tracer, and Pharah were left to scout the area and appear as natural as possible so as not to raise suspicion. It wasn’t the citizens of King’s Row that grew suspicious, however, but instead Genji. Hanzo was trained in stealth the same as Genji, both their skills unmatched, but Genji had become hyperaware of his brother upon him joining Overwatch so it came as no surprise that he was the only one to notice when suddenly Hanzo wasn’t walking with them anymore.
Genji had glanced behind them and, after a moment, spotted Hanzo exiting a nearby alleyway, not visually seeming any different but somehow still giving off a happier aura. Genji tilts his head curiously and asks lowly if everything is alright once Hanzo rejoins them.
A very light dusting of pink rises into the archer’s cheeks and he scratches an ear subconsciously. “Yes,” is all he says so Genji drops it. It happens again, however, Hanzo disappearing for a few seconds then returning with a pointedly brighter feeling about him. It wasn’t until the forth time when he returned with his one free strand of hair seeming to be mussed, the same side of his face looking a little damp, and… was that fur on his sleeve? Genji stared out of the corner of his eye, utterly surprised as a memory hit him.
He couldn’t have been much older than six, his big brother nine, when there was a clattering at his and Hanzo’s bedroom door. It was technically past their bedtime but Hanzo was nowhere to be found, until the door slid open and the eldest Shimada child nearly fell in, his hair a mess and mud smeared all over from a recent rain. Hanzo slid the door shut quickly and scrambled further in. Genji watched as his usually composed brother appeared positively ecstatic, an odd bulge in his yukata that he was holding to his chest with utmost care.
When Hanzo looked up and locked eyes with his little brother he grinned and came over to him, kneeling beside his bedroll and saying quietly, “Look at this! I found her outside of the compound.” He then pulled open his yukata enough to let the head of a puppy pop out, her fur a pretty gold, matted from the rain and mud, and her tongue lolling out. Genji had begun petting the puppy immediately then helped his brother dry her off then looked after her while Hanzo snuck off to get her something to eat.
They began chattering about whether their father would let them keep her, they were positive he couldn’t say no to such a sweet face, what they should name her, what kind of toys they would get her, what color collar she would have. In the morning they had approached their father and had tasted one of the sourest instances of disappointment as their father said no to them keeping the dog. He had been nice enough to help find her a home, let the boys meet the family she would be going to, but it was done so coldly and quickly it hardly helped. Genji had been sad, but Hanzo had been heart broken.
The trend continued, however. Hanzo would find a stray dog, bring them home, and he and usually Genji would clean them up and treat them well. Each time their father denied letting them keep the dog and would send it away. The trend of personally finding the dogs a new home was short lived and soon the dogs were just being sent to the pound. Eventually they started hiding the dogs, which never worked either, and in the end would usually just take them in for the night then let them loose, or at least leave food out for them just outside their family compound’s walls. The guards never minded, usually helping them actually.
Genji enjoyed it, but that it was Hanzo who truly got invested, through their entire lives. Genji still remembers an instance when he and Hanzo had had a huge argument, a sadly common occurrence later on in their years, but that very night Hanzo, a twenty-year-old, showing up at Genji’s room with two husky puppies under his arms. Argument forgotten they had cared for the pups for a few days until a friend of Genji’s had happily taken them in.
Now that Genji was looking at Hanzo, nearly a stranger at times in this new life, he was seeing something familiar. The saliva stain on his cheek from a dog’s kisses, hair messy probably from over excited paws jumping up at him, fur just about on every article of clothing.
The next time Hanzo disappeared Genji snuck after him, wanting to make absolutely sure, and sure enough he found Hanzo near a random restaurant, approaching a stray pitbull he had spotted. He let the dog sniff the back of his hand and almost immediately the canine could tell he could trust this human. Hanzo bent slightly at his hips to gently pat the dog’s head, getting a few licks to his fingers as he did. He didn’t give off much emotion through facial expressions, but now the slightest tug of a smile was pulling at his lips, eyes seeming to glow. Genji nearly choked up, the sight both heartbreaking and sweet.
Hanzo said nothing for a while until finally he spoke lowly, “Do you remember when we were little, how you hated going to festivals with me?” Genji wasn’t surprised Hanzo was aware of him as he stepped closer. He let the pitbull sniff his hand as well before crouching down and scratching at his shoulders.
“Yes, it was very frustrating. Every time you saw a dog you had to stop to go and pet it.” A smile spread over Genji’s face, hidden behind his mask, and he tilts his head in the direction of his brother, watching as his carefully composed mask reappears on his face, yet somehow still he looks happy.
Hanzo huffs, something of a laugh, and shakes his head. “I could not help myself,” he pauses, scratching under the dog’s chin, “You would complain and have to drag me away, like you were the one looking after me instead of the other way around.”
“The only time that ever happened,” Genji mused, remembering all the times Hanzo had lectured him, bailed him out of trouble, looked after him.
Again Hanzo huffs, nodding. “True.”
There’s a long silence, their new canine friend completely in heaven at the attention he’s getting, and Hanzo reaches into a pouch on his belt to pull out a small piece of jerky to hand to the dog. Genji can’t help but let out a sudden, loud laugh, not seeming to startle the dog who is busy munching on the jerky, but effectively gets Hanzo’s attention.
“What?” Hanzo asks, defensive and for a moment Genji sees some youth in him, but it’s gone a moment later. He tries not to let that bother him too much. Instead he motions to the pouch apparently full of jerky.
“Good to know some things never change,” he laughs, a memory of Hanzo secretly carrying dog treats with him everywhere they went in their youth popping up. A blush sprouts on Hanzo’s face and he quickly looks away, scratching his ear. He couldn’t really say anything without digging himself into a deeper hole. He couldn’t claim they were his and he was just sharing simply because he didn’t like jerky, the texture not pleasant for him. So he stayed quiet as Genji’s laughter died down to subtle shaking of his shoulders.
After another stretch of silence Hanzo finally gave the dog a final pat on its head before stepping away. “We should return to the others,” he says simply, turning away and beginning to walk. Genji can’t stop smiling behind his mask as he follows, for a moment the air between he and his brother not filled with tense, awkward energy. There’s a familiar ease to it, and while Genji knows it will not last, he basks in it, takes it all in.
When they catch up to Tracer and Pharah it’s obvious they noticed the brothers’ absence, but they don’t say anything, just begin walking again as a group. The mission goes smoothly, nearly no opposition other than their informant continuously checking that they aren’t Talon, and it is marked an easy success as they board a transport back to base the following day.
That tense air is back between the Shimada brothers but Genji finds it is not as difficult to deal with any longer, the mere thought that he can still see who he remembers Hanzo to be in this new Hanzo. It feels like things will be a little easier from here, that they can find common ground again and build up from there. And Hanzo still has dog fur on his sleeve.