Hanzo is three, dashing down the halls in the estate to the agony of his nanny, who's trying her best to catch up to him after he ran off while she was using the bathroom. He's giggling, excited, tiny hands reaching out before him for whatever they can grab onto; diving under legs and furniture, until at last he reaches the desired door: his baby brother's nursery.
"Mama!" He calls out, small knuckles rasping against the door softly. There's a minute of pause before his mother comes to the door and in the meantime the nanny finally manages to reach him. She quickly scoops him into her arms as he wiggles and whines.
The door slides open and the nanny is quick to bow her head and say, "I'm very sorry, madam-"
With a kind smile and a gentle tone, the woman cuts in, "Not a problem. It's his big day, right Hanzo?"
Though she's holding a week-old Genji in her arms, Hanzo throws himself at her and she leans in to kiss his face and give him a sideway hug. "Here, say happy birthday to your big brother, Genji," she coos softly as the baby stares up at them with big, round, curious eyes.
Hanzo leans closer to the newborn as the nanny pulls him back. "Be gentle, now," his mother says when he inches closer again. He presses a very soft kiss to Genji's forehead and the baby giggles in response. Both women laugh at the cuteness of that moment.
-
Hanzo is ten, sitting quietly on a bench, watching as about a dozen kids in Halloween costumes run around the estate grounds. Genji is among them, his vampire cape flapping behind him in the cold night breeze. He sighs, looking down at the bag of sweets in his hands, full to the brim. But none of it is his - it's Genji's.
It's all about Genji these days.
The crunch of heavy feet on gravel has him involuntarily straightening his back. The hand lands on his nape, strong and controlling.
"Get your brother," Sojiro says without looking down at Hanzo. "We're cutting the cake."
He backs off without another word and Hanzo breathes in relief. Sometimes, like now, he misses mother so much it hurts. But he can't show his pain to anyone, doesn't want father to think he's weak. So he collects himself and gets up, calling out for Genji and their friends.
When they stand side by side at their shared birthday table, Hanzo realizes they forgot to write his name on the cake. The family governess has to add a "And Hanzo!" at the end of Happy birthday to you because father calls out Genji's name and claps loudly as if that were the end of the song and there was no one else worth mentioning.
He feels sick, like he might throw up on the cake, so as soon as the singing is over and everyone is busying themselves with candies, he disappears from the crowd and locks himself up in his bedroom. He doesn't come out until the next morning, when everyone - including him - can pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened.
-
Hanzo is twenty-two, blowing cigarette smoke into the night air at the window. He knows that he should sleep, but can't seem to relax. This room feels too big for him, as do the shoes that he's having to fill since father's very recent death. He's been trained for this job all his life, but now that it's here, he doesn't feel prepared.
The door behind him slides open and he doesn't have to look to know that it's Genji. Hanzo continues staring at the cloudless sky until a body presses behind his, one arm going around his middle and the other reaching out until Genji steals the cigarette from his hand.
They smoke in silence for a moment. Genji puts out the butt on the windowsill and he finally glances towards his brother, reprimanding. All Genji does is smirk; he'd done it on purpose, to get Hanzo's attention.
The hand around his waist crawls all the way up to his hair, brushing gently at his temples. He feels as Genji tries to curl it around his fingers, but his hair is too short now, so he just plays adoringly with it.
"It's almost time," Genji says in a whisper. "I got you a present."
Hanzo looks at him again, eyebrows shooting up. Genji has never been most thoughtful... But maybe losing father has made him realize people can just. Be gone someday, out of nowhere. It has certainly made Hanzo painfully aware of that.
"You shouldn't have," he says, but as Genji's hand travels once again to wrap around his, he allows himself to be dragged away from the window and walked back towards the bed.
When he sits at the end of the bed, Genji is quick to once again curl himself around Hanzo's body; one of his legs around his back, the other over his lap, chest glued to Hanzo's side. He holds Genji's waist and watches as he pulls a tiny velvet bag from his pocket. He tugs at Hanzo's free hand until he's holding it out, palm up, so he can dump the contents of the bag in Hanzo's hold.
It's a pair of golden bands that he immediately recognizes as their parents' wedding rings. Hanzo gasps, hand shaking as if the metal could burn him. His stomach feels cold as he stares at the rings and tears threaten to spill from his eyes; he misses mother more than ever, and even though losing father felt like freedom, he misses what he represented in their lives - the figure of authority that Hanzo didn't have to be.
"Hanzo," Genji starts and he forces his eyes to move to his brother's face. "It's you and me now."
This thought, though to Genji it might mean something else, to him is a relief. He has Genji, so what else could Hanzo need? Besides, he is at the head of the family now, and he wants his brother at his side. He will have it his way.
There are tears in Genji's eyes, too, when he adds, "I'm yours if you're mine."
And for the first time since father died, Hanzo allows himself to cry.
He pulls his hand free from Genji's waist and takes the ring, slides it reverently onto the finger that his brother holds out. Cries silently as Genji does the same to him. When they kiss, it tastes like fear, salt and love.
-
Hanzo is twenty-five, hands shaking and covered in blood as he fumbles with Genji's corpse for the wedding ring. His katana rests at his feet, bloodied and sharp.
He did not have things his way.
-
Hanzo is thirty, barging uninvited into the Shimada estate to make an offering to Genji's spirit in the temple. His katana rests on the altar like a trophy. Genji lives in his heart.
-
Hanzo is forty-one, climbing to his feet and crossing his room in Gibraltar in silent strides. The old bag he hides at the back of his wardrobe has a secret compartment, a hole in the lining that he's used for over a decade now to hide a certain box.
When he returns to the bed, heart racing with anxiety, Genji is still blinking awake. But he smiles a sleepy thing and reaches out for Hanzo, who slips back into his arms. Genji spends a good minute laying a plethora of kisses over his face, neck, arms, hands; crushing Hanzo in a passionate hug.
His voice is croaky when he murmurs, "Happy birthday, old man."
Hanzo just chuckles. "Don't worry, you'll get there."
But he's hit with a wave of gratitude - to Mercy, to the gods, to the universe - that he knows Genji will get to 41, too. When for years he spent his and Genji's birthdays wallowing in guilt that his brother never knew 23, 24, 25... All thanks to him.
"We'll be celebrating in the retirement home," Genji jokes and he laughs again. He would have it no other way; having Genji at his side until the end of their lives is his only plan for the future.
Hanzo sits up, then, and Genji follows him with his eyes. Curious eyes, like that week-old baby; gaze that doesn't lose a single move while Hanzo digs out the small box and gently opens it. The shine of gold has dulled some after years of dust and lack of wear. Hanzo surprises himself that he still remembers which is which.
He takes Genji's hand, holds it with the same reverence he had that night, almost two decades ago, in his bedroom in Hanamura. The ring slips easily and fits with perfection onto his finger. It's as if time hasn't passed at all, but it has. So much of it has - and thank the gods for that.
Genji is the one to gasp and freeze in place this time, staring at the ring, at Hanzo's face. Doubtless running over the memories from that night as well. His face doesn't betray a single emotion as he slides Hanzo's ring into place and Hanzo fears that this was a mistake, that maybe some mementos are meant to be just that - objects to remember the past by. Not things to build a present and future with.
But Genji brings his hand to his face and kisses the ring, and sits up to kiss him on the lips, and Hanzo knows they're fine. They're more than fine, they're-
"-yours and you're mine," his lips moving around the words that Genji whispers, and though it's early morning and so much has yet to happen today, this has to be his best birthday by far.
Life sure has its way of making all the right things fall into all the right places, sooner or later.
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Just a basic note to say that my Hanzo is, in fact, fitted with lower leg cybernetic prosthetics. This isn’t Blizzard canon, but who tf cares? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
To give a general gist:
Hanzo was born with Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, or something similar. Basically, a hereditary condition characterised by high arches in the feet, instability in the ankles, and an inverted bottle shape to the lower legs, among other things.
As the firstborn son of Sojiro, the one who would succeed his father and inherit the Shimada empire, it was imperative that he appeared strong and physically able. Hanzo was coached to hide his disability as far as he was able. He opted for discreet, lightweight callipers that could be worn under his clothes, and attended his physiotherapy sessions religiously.
Meditation was one way he learned to acknowledge the pain and exhaustion associated with the disease. Kyūdō – archery – was also an escape, as it was a skill that could be honed without needless stress on his suffering joints (thank you @vaqro for this detail ♡).
It wasn’t until after Sojiro died, after the attempted murder of Genji, after Hanzo’s desertion of the syndicate, that he found himself standing in a cybernetics clinic. Tired of hidden pain, now looking for work as a mercenary, and perhaps influenced by a certain curiosity – after all, his own brother lived on as a cyborg – he made the choice to have his lower legs amputated from just below the knee. The surgery was performed in Kyoto and was as successful as could be hoped for.
It is no accident that his prosthetics can pass for armoured footwear – this was very much a conscious design choice. Even now, Hanzo is intensely private about his condition, and still feels a deeply ingrained need to appear strong, complete. As he is in the habit of bathing daily, he will use this time to remove, clean and reattach his prosthetics in privacy. Sometimes he takes them off to sleep, but only when he is alone, and able to lock himself away.
Hanzo’s disease is progressive and can, in its later stages, begin to affect the hands and arms. When he whittles, writes, or draws his bow, he is always looking out for signs of its spread.
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