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Hanzo finds Hana in the greenhouse long before dawn, when the world is bathed in a pale somber blue and is only just coming out of the secrecy of pure night. He, like many other agents, has nights where sleep escapes him completely, even in the comfort of another. Cole has been understanding when Hanzo untangles his octopus-like grip at odd hours of the night, offering a bothered grunt but rolling over without resistance. Tonight, he even returned to snoring before Hanzo left their shared room, a feat given how difficult Cole has complained it is for him to return to sleep after being woken up.
The greenhouse had been a later addition after the Petras Act had been repealed and Overwatch activity reinstated. With additional funds, Winston had taken it upon himself to create a greenery space for agents to return to should the Gibraltar winter be particularly harsh and force plants to wither. Hanzo had been on the committee that brought it together, personally selecting some plants and seeking those who also had green thumbs. It had been a surprisingly smooth affair, and the committee continues to meet every handful of months to discuss what supplies had to be repurchased.
It became Hanzo’s safe haven in these silent hours, when the only thing breaking the eerie quiet is the muted sounds of his footsteps. When Hanzo first sees a bundled silhouette, he approaches warily but approaches nonetheless. Hana’s form takes on more color as he draws closer, and by the time he stops (in a respectful distance), he can see the dark uneven purple under her eyes and puffy redness in them. No one has seen her for the past week, news of a particularly bad Gwishin attack in South Korea drawing her from the base, and she had returned under the guise of night only a few days ago.
Hanzo takes her in once more, paying closer attention this time, and sees an echo of himself in the large ill-fitting t-shirt she wears and the untamable exhaustion bearing down on her small frame. He is looking at a true Hana Song, a far-cry from the pop-star persona she puts on. In many ways, Hanzo realizes, he is looking at a younger version of him. While Hana does not have a clan behind her, she does have an entire country looking to her for strength, comfort, and reassurance. The weight of the world on such tiny shoulders… Hanzo’s chest aches in a bittersweetly familiar way.
Hana’s sniffle draws Hanzo back from his thoughts and he takes in a deep breath from his nose, walking closer to sit an arm’s length away from her. If Hana has not waved him away or drawn back herself, it would appear she wouldn’t mind the company, and Hanzo knows he would have appreciated a wiser someone to have sat with him in these hours.
Silence blankets over them again, and Hanzo knows he cannot be the one to approach Hana in these times. He believes in her inner strength, silently encouraging her with his mind as he gazes upon the Gibraltar horizon. The sea’s waves lazily tumble over each other, and Hanzo recollects someone briefly mentioning a gloomy weather prediction for today. Perfect weather for staying indoors today and train. He and Cole have been chasing each other’s sharpshooter best. Today may be the best day of competition yet.
A soft draw of breath brings Hanzo out of his light meditation, and he sits up a bit straighter to let Hana know he’s listening, that he wants to listen.
“What is the bravest thing you’ve ever said?” she asks, turning her head to look at him. Hanzo meets her eyes, gaze immediately softening at the sight of her. There’s a distinct lack of life on her face, a look Hanzo recognizes as survival over enjoyment. Hana must not have been sleeping for the past few days, or doing much for that matter. Her presence has been sorely missed by everyone, no jovial chirp as she bounces down the halls with Lucio nor late night screeches as she streams for her faraway fans. In terms of Hana, silence weighs much more heavily than words.
“Well…” Hanzo manages out, voice scratchy and deep with lack of use. He returns to look at the horizon again in search of the answer. A dozen memories come to him, vying for such a prestigious title. The first that comes clearly is his first rebellion against the Shimada elders, where Hanzo called for the end of the clan and vowed to seek retribution once they exiled him. Brave, yes, but not the bravest.
Seeking Genji after their confrontation in Hanamura Castle surfaces as well, when he packed what little belongings he had and came to Gibraltar. Hanzo had found Genji during his dawn meditation with Zenyatta and asked for a brief private moment. There, on a cliffside and with the sun as his second witness, Hanzo fell to his knees and performed the deepest and, in his eyes now, the only meaningful dogeza of his life. As his forehead brushed the cool stone, he heard Genji gasp and pause in his movements to beg Hanzo up. In one breath, Hanzo professed his final apology to his brother and made a vow to choose to live, instead of offering his life so willingly in a poor form of reparation. A stark reversal from the man he was in the Hanamura confrontation. The memory brings a warm pride to Hanzo’s chest, a feeling he is working to become familiar with. It draws a small smile to his face, and yes, it was brave, but still not the bravest.
A memory bubbles up to voice a delicate nomination, a time before he promised Genji to live. Hanzo faintly recalls a post-celebration late night, commending agents for a particularly grueling mission, one where the members left behind in Gibraltar cursed at feeling so helpless and those on the field made peace with conflict being the last sight for this life. By a string of miracles, Hanzo returned home, bleeding onto the emergency transport and Lucio raising his voice into a frightened scream for Angela. Nearly a life for a life, where Hanzo’s feet leapt him between a bullet and the young medic, dragons bursting from his arrow just as the opposing shot sank into the soft flesh of his stomach. As Hanzo fought for consciousness in the transport out, Lucio’s audiotech turned to dangerously experimental levels in hopes to give Hanzo a chance to live, his entire life flashed before his eyes and Hanzo realized something. He had not yet had a life to live. His life had been in the hands of others for its entirety. His clan, the elders, his father… Then Genji, as penance. Never his own.
Oh, he will never forget seeing Cole when he woke after surgery. The sound of struggle, protest, and defiance echoed behind his door loud enough to rouse him from medically induced slumber. His eyes had barely cracked open for more than a moment before his cowboy came barreling through the door. They had only recently acknowledged the possibility of meaning more to each other, gone maybe on a handful of “dates” before Hanzo had been called away on a mission. His last thought upon leaving Gibraltar had been how unworthy he was to be so fully loved by an honest, kind man. The last thought he had before he felt his eyes roll back and darkness take him was if he lives through this, if he opens his eyes again, he will learn to love Cole despite what he feels for himself, because that was what Cole deserved.
After rounds of drinks and Lucio’s exaggerated retellings of Hanzo’s bravery, Hanzo found himself crawling into Cole’s bed yet again to find his warmth and, after drawing a shaky breath, asked.
“Help,” Hanzo finally replies, returning to the greenhouse. He looks at Hana’s tiny frame over his shoulder, a softness coming over his features. Her eyes widen impossibly so, reminding Hanzo she still has yet to enter her twenties.
“Asking for help is not giving up. It is refusing to give up,” he expands, unable to keep a swell of emotion from blooming in his chest at how true his words ring. All his life, he has faced dragons, disappointment, war, and loneliness. At times, Hanzo feels his soul is older than his body can carry, impossibly heavy in ways that test the limits of human spirit, and there have been times he has stumbled, fallen from a bone-deep exhaustion. Surrender was not an option, though it had tempted him deeply. Instead, Hanzo found new purpose and resolve in those around him. Freed both Genji and himself from their past with his declaration, found love in a man who threw his entire being into making sure Hanzo felt loved. And, perhaps the greatest act of growth, Hanzo feels he deserves to feel this way: loved in every fulfilling way.
Hana continues to look at him, eyes becoming glassy before she chokes out a sob and hides her face between her knees, shoulders shaking as Hanzo feels her impossible weight fall off her shoulders. Hana sobs, and sobs, and fills the entire greenhouse with the release of her sorrow, weariness, and pressure. Because he has found a new strength in himself, Hanzo sits with her and, after a moment, reaches out and rests a calm hand on her kneecap.
It's as if Hana has been waiting for permission, as she explodes with movement as soon as he touches her. Delicate arms are flung around Hanzo’s shoulders, and she nearly falls off the small bench they share, continuing to unleash. Hanzo gently rests his hand on her back now, the other going to her hair and petting in the way his mother had a long time ago.
Once the sobs fade into something softer, Hana draws away to rest into a casual seiza, stubbornly wiping the wetness from her face. She looks at Hanzo and he hopes his expression is as encouraging as he feels.
She takes in a shaky breath.
“Help.”
Cole wanders into the mess hall, having woken up earlier than he’s used to. The bed had been a little cold without Hanzo in it this time, but he has a hazy recollection of Hanzo leaving him to probably head to that greenhouse of his. It’s been his happy place when he can’t sleep, so Cole decides to head over there after fixing them up some breakfast.
To his surprise though, Hanzo is already sitting across from Hana. The picture is quite heartwarming, with Hana eagerly eating a hot bowl of rice porridge and pecking at a mighty fine spread of side dishes, and Hanzo sipping on a steaming cup of tea and working through a bowl of his own.
“Good mornin’ y’all,” Cole greets, sliding into the seat by Hanzo. He first presses a kiss against his darling’s cheek, enjoying the pleased hum he gets as thanks.
“Greetings. There is still enough for a bowl on the counter, if you are hungry,” Hanzo mentions and Cole eagerly gets out of his seat again, padding over to help himself to leftovers. Silently, he listens to Hana continue to eat, chopsticks against porcelain a rather pretty sound for him. Maybe it’s just ‘cause it reminds him of Hanzo finally taking care of himself and eating right.
“What’re you two doin’ up? Ain’t nothin’ good if it’s with you, squirt,” Cole teases when he sits. Hana’s wince immediately draws concern and Cole looks to Hanzo to check for a faux pas. Instead, Hanzo only offers a chuckle and nods to Hana, who shyly peeks up at Cole from her bowl.
“…Help.”