Work Text:
Jesse pulled hard on his boot laces, wanting to make sure that the laces wouldn't make him fall face-first to the ground in a race. They had that specific knot that he only used for hunting, so intricate that not even a persistent thief could undo it. And of course, there had to be a retractable blade knife in one of the boots, just in case there was a problem or an animal attacked him from close range. That steel blade had saved Jesse's life countless times…
He, his clothes, even his shoelaces... Everything said that he didn't belong in such a distinguished place, with its carefully sculpted furniture, wallpapered walls, and gilded-framed paintings. Too much luxury for someone who didn't appreciate them —nor intended to.
A woman with white hair tied in a straight, tight bun entered his room while he was preparing \himself. And she did belong to this world, to this kind of life; her beautiful hair smelling of expensive shampoo, her dress which, like all her clothes, was a unique edition, made to the exact measurements of her body's curves, her excessively soft skin and her always perfect makeup gave her a natural look, due to the extravagant products she had access to in the cosmetics and skincare industry.
Many women dreamed of buying products that were given to her, wanting to win her favor and that of her family, wanting someone so distinguished to say to the cameras: “I'm very famous and cool and I use these products, use them too.”
Anyone would think there could be hatred between humility and extravagance, but after his parents, the person Jesse loved most was his cousin, and she felt the same way. They were best friends and had gone to each other's world, McCree farm and this city where she and her family lived, since before they left their diapers.
She was his younger dear cousin and the only daughter of the Caledonia family: Elizabeth —"Ashe," as Jesse lovingly called her— Caledonia. Although no one would believe there's a family connection at first glance… Elizabeth's mother had adapted too well to living in the city.
Seeing him in those combat boots, jeans and with that old brown stetson, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder how they could be related, her being so elegant and well-dressed, and him being so practical and rustic. Although it's not as if she adapted any better during her visits to the farm… She never knew how to find non-elegant clothes —she always seemed as if she were to walk down a fashion runway at any moment— and use them without feeling she was ridiculous. Perhaps Jesse felt that way.
They were the completely opposite sides of the same coin. But they loved each other, they grew up together, going into each other's world for short periods of visits, always playing together. They understood each other well, but she sometimes forgot that, forgot to understand that this world is not his.
“What are you doing dressed like that?” she asked curiously, "Are you wearing jeans? To go to the picnic? Oh my God…”
Jesse said that most people wore jeans or tracksuits for these kinds of plans. But she dismissed that, explaining that picnics on the farm are not the same as picnics in the city.
The one with brown hair spared no comment about whether, in reality, they are the same. The Caledonia picnics were like a guy who had no problem spending two thousand dollars on Christmas decorations; an image worthy of being photographed, people showing their envy, everyone watching them enjoy their extravagant lives…
For them three, normality simply meant surprising others.
He looked at her as if the answer was obvious, "I'm just getting ready for the picnic.”
“It’s just a picnic, Jesse,” her cousin said, crossing her arms, “you don’t need to wear those clothes.”
Jesse smiled as they were joking.
“What if some hungry wolf wants to take our sandwiches?"
But his words did not sound like he was joking at all. Even after two years in the safest city of the country, he could not help but expect an animal attack. And Elizabeth could feel it in his tone. She could sense Jesse's strangeness about sleeping at least eight hours, about not working from sunrise to sunset, about not sleeping lightly in case the dogs of the farm barked, and warning of the presence of coyotes near the chicken coop.
McCree's farm was big and needed a lot of care every day, but it was obvious why her cousin loved that place.
“Wolves never go near the lake… they never do,” the pretty woman rolled her eyes. She understood why Jesse thought the wolves might attack, but she still thought it was ridiculous. Wolves near the lake... It sounded ridiculous “Why would they do that? There are too many people every day. They'd be riddled with bullets before they could even grunt.”
“... Your certainty that nothing bad will ever happen and your inability to properly hold a rifle confirm the danger for me.”
“Ugh! You’re so… pessimistic.” the white-haired complained, “Why would I even want to use a rifle? I’m a lady.”
Even if she complained about how 'absurd' the image of a lady like her —like any other woman could be— with a rifle in her hands was, she seemed offended. Miss Caledonia was no ordinary lady; her parents were the owners —and founders— of the Arbalest Arms Company.
Arbalest Arms Company was, effortlessly, the main arms distributor on the continent, and even beyond; and although they only had a good income from the hunters in nearby villages who bought from them, they had been looking to diversify their product for a couple of years. They decided to eliminate the image of the man using a gun and instead create the image of an armed couple.
There was no better way to promote weapons than with the phrase 'our weapons are like a woman, soft and lethal.’ So they asked her to shoot to test how "easy" it was to learn how to use a gun.
Even for a refined lady with impeccable manners and a level of education superior to ordinary people, thanks to her parents' generosity in letting her study as much and as much as she wanted, shooting was easy. And now the weapons would be sold in various colors! With the Pachimari keychains everyone loved, half price when you buy the matching boots and Stetson!
On paper, her parents were revolutionary geniuses who proved to be going against the stereotype of the helpless woman - they did. However, in reality she was not able to maintain a good posture; her life was much more comfortable than the other ladies’ lives, much more uptight and easy; to be the face of the campaign, instead of her mother, a top-notch shooter who also lived on her parents' farm until her teens -Jesse's grandparents- was wasting a golden opportunity.
Elizabeth knew that her parents also wanted her to really learn to defend herself.
Because of the dresses this distinguished woman usually wore, with their pompous ruffles and corsets, her high heels, and her long hair always tied up in tight hairstyles that caused her a lot of pain, when Elizabeth dressed like a tough outlaw, in jeans, high boots, a leather jacket, and a dusty Stetson hat, she walked like a waddling duck and not like the graceful and elegant Elizabeth she was.
And what would become of their beloved daughter if she were kidnapped? Or if they weren't there to protect her?
This plan would fix two problems with a single action! It was perfect!
That's how Jesse had been called in by his aunt Nina, Elizabeth's mother, to help her. And it wasn't easy. The company's advertisements, which showcased her smooth face, went to great lengths to make her appear capable of shooting. And Jesse, after half an hour of making her walk in those jeans, had helped her emulate a convincing posture.
It was a big step forward, but her parents wanted her to shoot, not someone else; selling was fine, but having their little girl know how to shoot would be even better.
Elizabeth always did her best to make them proud, but to maintain the posture, shoot at the target, and not have an accident happen because of her clumsiness, was being too optimistic.
Jesse, one of the few hunters in the area where the McCree farm was located, would train her every week and be nearby to look after her. Like Bob, although Bob wasn't a good shooting instructor, that's what happens when you're a mobster and now you're just trying to redeem yourself with the family that gave you a chance to change; he could point his gun wherever Elizabeth ordered, but he could never teach her to take lives.
Seeing her so upset, Jesse laughed, deciding to take her advice. Going to the picnic might not be so bad —nor dangerous—, though he'd bring a gun, just in case.
"You can convince me to go on a picnic, but not to wear funeral clothes when I'm still alive, Ashe."
Ashe. Elizabeth didn't hate that nickname, but it sounded more like the name of an outlaw than a lady… However, she didn't complain; deep down, she was afraid she would never hear him call her that again.
“I chose your suit myself. Believe me, it's not for a funeral…” she said, looking for Jesse's suit.
When she found the suit, she made a sound of surprise, she dropped the bag she was holding and ran towards the screen from which hung a complete suit, or what was left of it. “Why did you tear the suit?”
Jesse scoffed at Elizabeth's complaints, watching as, as soon as she dropped her purse, Bob, her personal butler and bodyguard, grabbed the purse before it fell. Bob had impeccable reflexes, physique, and self-defense skills, far above average; it was clear he had a past dedicated to knowing what to do every second, how to be lethal in every situation. He was truly incredible.
“Oh God,” the girl complained, looking at the elegant black shoes, now destroyed, “These shoes were new!”
Bob frowned, though he wanted to laugh.
Jesse sighed a bit nervously when they were finally at that family picnic. The white-haired and her parents seemed happy and relieved. But he, on the other hand, felt somewhat uncomfortable.
Although Jesse wasn't wearing elegant, tight-fitting clothes, everyone else seemed prepared to be approached by hundreds of paparazzi at any moment. The three of them stood out among the ordinary people enjoying the lake by bathing or having their own picnics, with their elegant, colorful and expensive clothes.
Instead of a simple tablecloth and a picnic basket with simple food—sandwiches, cakes, orange juice—in just enough quantities for everyone, the Caledonias camped with wooden tables and chairs. There was also a professional chef who, using a portable barbecue, brought out plate after plate of red meat which Bob then served, sliced, seasoned and with a glass of wine, to those present.
"I can serve myself, Bob. Sit down and enjoy your food, okay?" I try to stop Bob from taking his plate to offer him juicy sausages.
Everyone had their plates full except Jesse; when this happened, the cook would simply put out a plate with the varied menu so that they could take as much as they wanted if they were still hungry; finally, Bob and the cook would eat last. Jesse felt guilty about being served; things were different on the farm, and he never thought he'd be able to get used to it.
“Sir Jesse, don’t worry about me,” Bob insisted, still trying to take the plate away, “it’s my job. I like my job.”
“Yes, but you haven’t stopped working all day… Like everyone else.”
Elizabeth snorted, a little tired of her cousin 's attitude. She swirled a wine glass disdainfully, looking at it as if it were the only thing that deserved his attention there. “Almost two years with us and you still look like a hick farmer…”
“Eli…” Nina called her in a scolding tone, but without looking at her. Her eyes were more interested in reading a light novel than in the food, her daughter or her nephew.
“I like my grandparents’ farm,” Jesse complained. “It’s honest, hard work.”
Cows, sheep, chickens, fields always growing crops, and the large wooded area for hunting in the surroundings. Her aunt's life, despite also having come from the farm, seemed to belong to a different world and origin; fast-paced, clean, and reeking of processed perfumes… The only things that indicated she was from a farm were her shooting skills and her aversion to technology outside of work. Although she loved the farm, she had felt love at first sight for a man who was afraid of spiders, knew nothing about plants, and even less about how to milk a cow.
Meanwhile, Jesse dreamed of inheriting that peaceful life, just as his parents had done when his grandparents died. He had agreed with his aunt Nina to buy her share of the farm someday, when his parents no longer had the strength to work at the pace they could now; although that was years away, many years.
“But you’re in town now!” Elizabeth insisted, nudging him to give Bob his plate already, “just enjoy the service…”
The butler 's expression remained serene and professional throughout. Then, with studied calm, he began to put meat on the plate. Elizabeth seemed satisfied, but Jesse wasn't really; in fact, he growled at her before dipping a finger in his glass of water, squirting a few drops in her face, mockingly.
“Little princess…” he said mockingly.
“Cry baby!” she mocked him back.
“Goody two shoes!”
"Flea-ridden dog!”
While Nina was reading a book, her husband looked at them both as if it were nothing new. And the truth was, it wasn't surprising at all; they often argued like this. “Jesse, why don’t you start Elizabeth’s shooting lesson now?”
“But I haven’t finished eating!” Jesse complained.
“I don’t want to practice shooting now!” Elizabeth complained too.
“Now.” Nina said. She wanted to have a quiet moment with her husband, but it was difficult sometimes. Her nephew and daughter loved each other as much as they loved to argue. She wished they would get along better.
“But mom!”
The brown-haired man's displeasure didn't last long. The idea of running a bit, of using a weapon in a "natural" environment and not simply in a competition to see who could hit the bullseye the most times.
“C’mon! Let's get a little dirty.”
“What? No! There’s lot of people here… I don't want them to see me dress like you!” Elizabeth groaned, pure terror on her pretty face. “Bob! Do something!”
Bob chuckled softly, without intervening, as Jesse grabbed the chair his cousin was sitting in and spun her around. She seemed to be going through a terrifying moment. When the young farmer grabbed her and lifted her onto his shoulder, she screamed in fright; her warm-colored floral dress was long enough to cover below her knees.
“Let’s go, Ashe!”
“No, no, no!” She kicked and screamed on Jesse’s shoulder as he grabbed the air shotgun he used to teach his cousin to shoot, just to prevent anyone from getting hurt by his cousin's bad aim.
One of Elizabeth’s sandals fell to the ground, but Bob, always alert and with the best reflexes the Caledonia had ever seen, caught it before the sandal fell to the ground and gently placed it on her feet. Bob was certainly overqualified for this job, but it was undoubtedly the most rewarding he had ever had.
“I hope you have a lot of fun with young Mr. Jesse, Miss Elizabeth.” The butler smiled, bowing slightly, trying not to laugh. The situation was fun, but he knew that laughing would embarrass —even more— the lady he cared for so lovingly.
“What? Bob!”
Jesse ran quickly, with the young white-haired lady on his shoulder, bouncing with every step. There was an area with old, rotten fences near the equally old wooden picnic tables, perhaps intended to fence off someone's land that had long since been sold. Jesse thought it would be a good place to practice, perhaps asking someone at the lake for some cans of soda, and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were, in fact, already some cans on the ground.
“Wait here a moment,” He asked in a calm voice, setting her down on the ground. She lost her balance on the uneven ground and the somewhat long grass. “I'm going to see if those cans are any good and throw away the ones that are badly broken.”
“Why isn't the ground flat?” She clutched the air shotgun, unable to hold it properly.
The lady glanced back, a little anxious; the anxiety stemmed from seeing how far they were from Bob, her family, and the car. When Elizabeth looked at her cousin again, he was placing some cans in the chipped fence, throwing others into a nearby trash can; that was him, kind, a lover of nature. He was like a rabbit who accepted the necessity of the forest and all that it entailed.
“Because nature is not symmetrical or perfect, it is wild and chaotic.”
“Are there many mosquitoes here? I'm just wearing a lemon-scented necklace…” She touched the necklace that hung around her neck, a yellow heart.
“They're just mosquitoes.” He calmly assured her, returning to her.
McCree took the gun from her hands and aimed, without firing, only experiencing the focus and defocus of his eye. He would never forget the feeling of his eyes adapting quickly to take a decisive shot, or getting used to the low light to see in the dimness when he didn't have a lamp in his hands.
The woman seemed to notice his longing because when he offered her the air shotgun and she began to adjust her stance, she asked:
“What do you miss? Hunting and not having so many 'strange noises' around?”
He didn't answer at the moment, more focused on the way she was settling in than on thinking of a response. One foot forward, the weight shifted more onto the foot that was behind, the foot turned sideways. The butt of the gun in the space between her breast and her shoulder. One hand guiding the barrel to align the sight with her eye, the arm relaxed, never fully extended, and on the other hand, the trigger hand, her finger should never be on until she needs to fire.
It wasn't a professional pose, but it was obvious from looking at it that someone who was professional had given her instructions.
“I miss the farm, yes,” he nodded, “but you need my help. My parents can take care of the farm without me, but you can't do this without me… I mean, not yet. However, you'll be able to do this on your own soon… Look at you! You are doing this so well now!”
She smiled, “I have the best teacher.”
“Just remember that your arms and legs shouldn't be completely straight, and that you should hunch your shoulderl… The recoil could hurt you if you're stiff and poorly positioned, especially when you start to use a real shotgun.”
She nodded and fired. The pellet shot out of the air gun and passed between two of the cans, without even touching either of them.
“BBs are biodegradable, if that helps you keep trying…” Jesse commented when he saw Elizabeth biting her bottom lip.
That's why she kept firing. She barely grazed the cans, but at least her resolve didn't waver, neither did her posture. Her cousin thought that perhaps the problem was that she hadn't yet learned to focus her eye.
“Ashe…” He placed his hand on her shoulder and then gently pushed her head down with his own, wanting to help her, “your hand on the barrel isn't looking to move to align with your eye.”
“I try!”
“I know, I know… it is part of the fun, Ashe…” He gently lifted the cannon and moved it slightly to the right, then moved the head aside so she could position herself again. “Try again.”
The lady fired, not very confidently. Crack. The aluminum of the can dented as it fell to the ground, struck by the projectile.
“I did it!” she smiled, excited.
But when she fired again, aiming at a new target, she missed. Once, twice, three times…
“No!”
“It's okay... You're still learning.”
“I don't think I'm making progress…”
“But when we started, you didn't even know how to position yourself to aim!”
But she seemed to be seething with rage, no matter what he said. She breathed angrily and gently tightened her grip on the weapon, trembling slightly.
“Ashe? Are you alright?”
Instead of answering his call, she burned with even more rage. As if everything in the world were designed to upset her, she wanted to set it all ablaze. She stomped her foot, her sandal popping off, and when she put her foot down in the long grass, she growled, tossing the air shotgun.
“Ashe!” Jesse frowned, “You can't just... throw things and be angry all day. It's not healthy.”
“This is your fault! You knew I wouldn't be good at this.” She protested, crossing her arms.
Jesse sighed before taking off running, but Elizabeth didn't seem to have enough. She ran after him, into the woods.
“I am a lady, the heiress to a great empire! I shouldn't have to learn to defend myself!”
“I think that precisely because you have so much power, you should be able to defend yourself better than me.” Jesse argued, reaching for the air gun. “For a lady, you throw like a baseball player…”
Her perfect hairstyle, which kept her long white hair under control, was unraveling with her fit of rage. The tree branches, chaotic and with no one to prune them or tend to their leaves, easily became entangled in her, in her hair, in her clothes…
The lady was so angry she looked like she might explode. “We're supposed to be in the city, so who's the gardener here?”
“Nobody, Ashe.” He explained his calm steps despite the constant creaking and the uncontrolled weeds, “people come to the forest to go hiking, or to walk their dog. Furthermore, the forest is the animals' home; they deserve a completely wild and suitable environment, not a sterile environment without hiding places.”
“Don't talk to me like I'm stupid!”
Almost as soon as she said it, she tripped, falling to the ground. The sandals weren't the right footwear for the woods, but she couldn't know that, and Jesse was trying to find the air gun. He couldn't leave a weapon here, even if it's an air gun. It was dangerous; a child might want to play with it, or it could contaminate the forest…
This forest looked much cleaner than Jesse had expected. The city was always so dirty, with foul smells and plumes of black smoke, that it was rare to see the forest so clean and beautiful…
While he was looking for the air shotgun, the woman began to scream, asking for help. “I've been kidnapped! Help, Jesse! Kill them!”
He looked back in fear, lifting his leg slightly to take his box out of his boot. But his movement stopped mid-air when he saw his beloved cousin being kidnapped by... a bush. Yes, a fucking bush. The branches had become entangled in the floral dress, and to make matters worse, her beautiful white hair seemed to have fallen in love with a branch, completely knotted around it.
“What the hell, Ashe?” Jesse whispered before laughing. The situation was laughable, Elizabeth was already crying and screaming and someone needed to stay calm.
“Stop laughing! My hair hurts!” It was no surprise; she kept pulling her hair in all directions. She'd probably lose a handful of hair before Jesse started helping her.
“Stop, stop! I'll help you…” Still laughing, he carefully began to untangle her snow-white hair.
It was difficult; upon closer inspection, Jesse noticed a cobweb, which made the task sticky and tedious. There were also leaves tangled in his cousin's hair, and who knows if there were twigs too, although that wasn't important yet; first he had to help her get out of this mess.
“Auch! That hurts!” The lady complained.
“I'm almost done... Be patient.” No, this was a disaster! Every time he pulled a strand of hair out of the leaves, she screamed and whined, and then Jesse reflexively let go of her hair. That was a really stupid cycle.
And as if that mess wasn't enough, Elizabeth suddenly let out a sharper scream as she looked to her right, shoving her cousin hard.
“Ashe! What the hell are you doing?” he groaned, sitting on the dry weeds and frowning.
“A wolf!” She warned, pointing fearfully at some moving bushes. Yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Shoot it!”
But the weapon still hadn't appeared, and compressed air wouldn't achieve great results. Jesse got up quickly and stood between the wolf and his cousin. Elizabeth still couldn't break free, and Jesse couldn't fight a wolf, especially not if he wasn't protecting his cousin.
“Jesse? Let's run away…” Ashe asked, trying to free itself from the branches tangled in her body and hair.
Jesse knew she couldn't get out alone, and it was difficult for him to get her out. If he turned around to help her, the animal was very likely to attack. Then he decided there was only one way out.
“Ashe, I need you to scream at the top of your lungs.”
“Wouldn't that scare it and make it more aggressive?”
“Trust me.”
The young woman nodded, though she wasn't looking at him, shouting loudly.
And then, as soon as she started screaming and the wolf growled, Jesse ran toward the wolf. He charged at it hard, pushing it back, his arm caught in its jaws. His arm hurt like hell, but he had promised his cousin Ashe to take care of her, and he wouldn't allow a wolf to attack her.
His cousin kept screaming. He kept struggling with the wolf, which, unable to gain the upper hand, was trying to tear his arm apart. Then he pushed the wolf further and further away, wanting this aggressive animal far away from her.
And then they fell down an embankment. The wolf had released him, and Jesse struggled, breaking free. There was a strong river to catch them from their fall and it swept them away, with Jesse not knowing where they were going to end up.
He had fainted, he doesn't know when it happened, but his consciousness simply went out. He coughed loudly, his eyes blurry and ironically dry from the water that had sought ways to enter his body.
He couldn't see anything and could barely breathe. The river water wasn't drinkable, not for a human being with her delicate health, who was always used to drinking sterile water. Jesse could drink it without much discomfort, having grown up in the countryside; the water he drank came from a well. Although there was no well in the city, nor anything particularly clean... The city water tasted different because of the chlorine; it was unbearable.
This water tasted good, alive. Although it wasn't very healthy.
Something jerked his foot while he was trying to breathe. He was disoriented and his mind didn't seem to want to work at the pace Jesse needed, or it wasn't capable. Perhaps it was the second one…
“Hmmm…?”
With his head spinning and the sun in his eyes, he tried to lift his head, looking down at his feet. It was that damned wolf, trying to hurt his foot. The boots were tough and strong, made to last. Mrs. Amari had outdone herself. They couldn't break even if he walked on knives. Even so, the wolf was frightening him, so close, gnawing at the embossed leather like a mouse. “You still want to eat me, ya fuckin’ bastard?” He threw a powerful kick, but the wolf remained standing, gnawing fiercely. Another kick, and it seemed to do nothing. Another, and the wolf barely deigned to whimper, but it did not let him go. As if it had stepped on a splinter.
“Let me go!” He growled, throwing another kick. He didn't understand how all the blows were hitting him, but the animal wouldn't let go.
“Ame!”
With that voice, the wolf quickly released him, as if its interest had suddenly died. It took Jesse a few seconds to react, and then he looked towards the source of that male voice with an unmistakable Japanese accent.
Skin as white as freshly milked milk, eyes as gray as gunpowder, long black hair, rivers of ink falling down his shoulders.
What a beautiful boy…
“Who?”
He narrowed his eyes, confused, “... huh?”
He didn't repeat what he said, he just growled. The wolf did the same, drooling with rage, its fur bristling. Like a hedgehog on guard.
Jesse crawled across the gravel floor, his bleeding arm staining the white stones. But he didn't notice. Too many emotions swirling around him, too many distractions.
“Wound?”
“Wound?...” Jesse repeated, trying to understand what he was trying to say.
The Japanese man raised his own arm, caressing his forearm with his fingers.
The American looked at himself. It wasn't surprising, but at the same time it was. He hadn't expected such a serious wound, but he'd been bitten by a wolf, not a hamster. A new scar would be added to the collection, if he didn't bleed out and die here.
“The wolf...” The brown-haired one pointed at the wolf. “He threw me in the river, I guess I deserve it…”
Jesse tried to make a joke, but the Japanese man didn't laugh.
“You don’t talk much, huh?”
“Who?”
“Hey, my question was first…” The wolf growled. Jesse saw that, perhaps, he could answer the question. Or what he thought this man was asking. “The name’s Jesse, Jesse McCree.”
“Business?”
“Do you want to ask me what I'm doing here? I was with my cousin and she tripped over a bramble bush. Then this wolf tried to attack us and I... I needed to save her.” He looked at the wolf, now as calm and obedient as a trained dog. “I have to save her... I left her trapped in a bush! What time is it?”
He did not answer.
“You don't know what time it is…” Jesse assumed, “What’s your name?”
“Hanzo.”
Jesse smiled, a little puzzled. His way of speaking was somewhat odd, as if he didn't know the language well or didn't speak much.
“Just Hanzo?”
“Hanzo.”
“Hanzo,” the American man nodded.
“Hmm’mm.”
“Why are you wearing those clothes?”
Hanzo didn't even look at himself, so self-conscious was he about his appearance. Despite wearing tracksuit bottoms and a jacket, and hiking boots, he had a wolf pelt over his head, Its head rested on its own, its snout pointing forward, its front paws falling onto its chest, tangled with its charcoal-colored fur. He also had rabbit furs around his neck, sewn into a makeshift scarf. It’s was like he'd stepped out of one of those survival movies that were so popular in the city.
He didn't answer.
Jesse, seeing him serious and not boasting about resembling the protagonist of a movie, seemed to realize something: His lanky appearance, the scars on his hands and face, were not those of a wealthy city dweller. They were more like those of a worker, one who had a hard and difficult life. Like Jesse and his parents.
“Don't you have a home?”
“Forest.”
“Forest is not a home, not for humans.”
“Home.”
“Why are you…? Agh, shit!” He pressed hard to the wound on his arm. Now that he was relaxed, in front of this man and with a monstrously large wolf staring at him as if he hadn't even been kicked, the wound decided that it needed attention.
“Adrenaline is over.”
Jesse groaned, suddenly fatigued. Hanzo stood there, like a statue, in front of him, until suddenly his eyes saw only the sky. He fainted on the ground, with Hanzo wondering if he should help this stranger or just leave him behind.
Fortunately, Jesse was saved.
Jesse expected to wake up on the stone floor. Or perhaps at his cousin's house, after that awful dream.
But he awoke in a cave filled with many rudimentary tools such as a stone axe and a bow made from a branch and a spar string. Beneath his body was a soft, plush bearskin, and over him were sewn-together furs of lynxes and foxes that made him feel warmer than the quilts his mother knitted.
His arm was sewn with a thin but strong thread, perhaps fishing line. It hurt like hell, but Jesse figured that was inevitable even in the best hospital. Besides, it was a good job; someone who had done this many times before had helped him.
“Hanzo?”
As soon as he called Hanzo, many eyes gleamed in the dim light filtering into the cave. Wolves. Too many wolves. But they just stared at him, without grumbling or approaching.
“Awake?”
When she looked up, she saw him. He had been on the ceiling the whole time, in a crevice of the cave, calmly eating something —maybe some berries.
“Yes, I'm awake.”
“You good?” Hanzo pointed to his arm.
“It hurts a lot, but I'm okay... Did you treat me? Where did you learn? The stitches are well done.”
“Father.”
“Your father? That sounds amazing!”
Hanzo did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He jumped up and landed on his legs and free hand. Like a cat. He was fine and calm; it wasn't anything new for him.
“Is this your house?”
“House.” Hanzo nodded.
Jesse nodded. It would take him a little while to understand.
“Go home.”
“I can't leave with my arm like this... It hurts and I don't even know where I am.”
Jesse was surprised by his own words. Why wasn't he running away, now that he could?
Ashe will be furious...
But alive.
His parents will be worried...
They know he can take care of himself.
Hanzo might have wanted to kill him…
He could have let him die and saved him.
Jesse opened his eyes in surprise and he clenched his fists. Why does he have excuses for not leaving?
“Okay.”
But he didn't try to leave. Not even when, a week and a half later, he felt better and was using his arm. Something had reassured him, convinced that he was alright.
Perhaps it was the fact there were little wolf cubs huddled together, begging for cuddles like puppies, or that he was sleeping near a handsome boy who was drawn to his furry, fiery body; but he didn't feel it would be easy for him to leave.
Bathing in the lake was also lovely, with its crystal-clear water, and hunting was strangely satisfying too, with a spear in his hand and several wolves around him as his companions.
“Fass!” Jesse called the white wolf, who hadn't yet come to the cave. That little one loved the moon too much, which is why he didn't usually sleep enough.
It was difficult to learn the names of every wolf. But now he knew, he was proud of himself. The best part was distinguishing them just by the length of their snout or how they wagged their tails.
Ame was the wolf who started it all, a black male with blue eyes. Itself and its mate, another black wolf named Arashi, were the only adult black wolves, and the four black pups were theirs. They were the easiest to learn because most wolves had light-colored fur: cinnamon, cream, gray... They were different breeds and had produced beautiful mixed-breed pups.
Although Fass was also easy to distinguish, since it was the only white wolf.
Hanzo was also easy to understand... Jesse put a lot of effort into that. And perhaps into getting to know him as well.
He was handsome, a lethal hunter, with an aim and intellect few possessed. And he had good manners; he usually ate with perfectly held, handmade chopsticks, and when he sewed, cooked, or even made himself tea —soaking in very hot water leaves of plants that he himself collected and recognized. Jesse had seen his cousin long enough on her "picnics" and "camping trips" to know that it was the same behavior. People with money and a privileged education were not able to completely disconnect.
“My father forced me to kill him.” And then one night, he found a photo among Hanzo's things while cleaning the area of the cave where they slept.
It was the first time he had strung all the words together instead of just saying between one and three. And it seemed to be difficult for him. He wasn't angry to see him with the photo in his hands, nor disappointed; the relief in his body was obvious.
“He was Genji, my younger brother.” Liquid pearls made his eyes sparkle. He wept uncontrollably. He hadn't been able to talk about this with anyone. “My father made me think that Genji was my enemy, that if I didn't kill him, Genji would steal my position as heir.”
His throat seemed to hurt. He didn't talk much, or very loudly. But now his voice echoed in the cave and there were times when his voice sounded softer, or with silent gaps. Like a radio transmission with a weak signal.
“I only realized I was an unworthy idiot when his eyes lost their light…” Hanzo seemed so small and fragile, a stark contrast to his lanky toughness and high abilities, “I decided to flee, but they chased me everywhere... This place is the first where I've felt safe…”
“You are no longer a prisoner.” Jesse approached, placing his hand on his shoulder.
“Genji deserved freedom more than I did.”
“He did it,” Jesse murmured, “But I'm sure he also wanted you to be happy and free… Keep living, for him, for yourself.”
“I don't want to die nor to return to Japan.”
“You won't.”
He was calm. Hurt, but calm. Thanks to Jesse and his wolves, his family.
(...)
But the calm could not last forever. Time had not only passed inside the forest; months had passed outside as well. She had fought against her own nature, abandoned her refined lady side and became a warrior. Her mother had supported her, had helped her finish the shotgun training that Jesse gave her.
And she was determined to make the most of her ability. Stiletto heels were replaced by knee-high boots with a wide heel, her bun said goodbye, now having her hair in a tight, long braid and the expensive dresses had been gathering dust since her cousin disappeared… The tight jeans were more comfortable for shooting, once she got used to the itchiness of the fabric, and even though she was wearing a white blouse and black tie, she usually wore Jesse's leather jacket over them.
The sleeves were so torn and worn that she had to rip them both off; it was for the best, they couldn't be repaired; there were too many patches, some of them old, maybe from when Jesse was still on the farm, but the others were ordered by her before giving up. There was also dry dirt and dust in some parts, and not just any dirt, it was dirt from the McCree farm, Jesse always made it clear when an employee tried to clean it—he warned that he would beat up anyone who took that little piece of his house away— and Elizabeth could smell it now.
Her parents never forced her to pretend to be okay in front of the press, but she felt that she had to take care of her appearance at least a little. People believed it was more about promoting weapons; the fine, delicate lady could also be a fierce woman, that's what the headlines said.
As the young woman ventured deeper into the woods, she gently tugged at the lapel of the jacket, bringing it to her nose. The large, brown stain on the black leather had previously disgusted her, and she would sniff it from afar, now she was not afraid to touch it with her nose.
Wet earth, petrichor. The acidic smell of mud mixed with the freshness of what seemed like a mint leaf. The soft smell of cruel sun.
When she smelled her cousin's jacket, she could almost see her uncles—Jesse's parents—swinging on the swing set up on the porch, drinking iced tea, and Jesse running after the eight dogs that guarded the farm at night.
“I wish I hadn't taken you off the farm…”
She hadn't forced Jesse to leave the farm to help her defend herself, but Jesse wanted to help her. Jesse adored his cousin; she was like a little sister to him, always looking out for her and wanting to be there for everything. But Elizabeth still felt bad about what Jesse had had to suffer in the woods because of her.
The farm and the town were like night and day. He came from hand-washing clothes with unscented soap made by his mother, from riding horses without reins, from hunting and fishing for food, from measuring men by the strength of their grip in a handshake… And he had spent two years learning how to use washing machines, enduring the artificial stench of fabric softener, watching them hunt and fish for fun and seeing how everyone measured their worth by their humble clothes and the disgusting —for them, not for him— 'caveman' calluses of his hands.
She heard a branch crack, but before she could turn around with her loaded shotgun, a wolf knocked her down. Bob's advice hadn't helped her prepare to grip both ends of the weapon; the wolf's jaws were trying to break the weapon to reach her and the strength of her hands and arms was the only thing that stopped it. For now.
The shotgun groaned, creaking in pain, begging them to stop using it like that in a language that sounded terrifying to her. It wasn't made to protect her from a wolf attack —not like this!— and it would split if it continued to be the focus of two opposite poles, each pushing in a different direction.
The wolf's saliva dripped onto her face, while the would-be bandit felt her red eyes fill with tears. She only wanted to find Jesse and bring him home, and it seemed she'd only ever be food for this animal.
“Delta,” A raspy voice sounded, in a whisper that could very well have been the wind. The wolf stopped, so at least it wasn't just a voice in Elizabeth's head.
She didn't relax, however, not even when the wolf got off of her. This animal, “Delta”, had taken the gun in its jaws, because she was so surprised that she forgot to hold it!
The scene wasn't very hopeful either. His voice was like the sound of an electric toothbrush, despite being raspy; she could get used to it so easily and quickly that she could forget it was even there. But his appearance wasn't something one could easily get used to.
He walked directly to her, smelling around but not offering a hand to help her. When the Caledonia girl tried to get up and was growled at by the wolf, she fell to the ground in fear; she understood then that she must be on the ground until he left her to stand up.
“Your smell?”
The lady raised an eyebrow, “Is that supposed to be a question?”
The man grunted like he was not a human, his guttural voice and strangely sharp teeth suggested he had not been to the dentist in recent years. Maybe he's never even been anywhere, since his appearance and form to talk, as if the mere act of stringing words together were an odyssey for him.
“Okay, okay…” She raised her hands in case he wanted to attack her.
The stranger simply stared at her, still, as if trying to figure out who she was. She smelled good, familiar, like something he'd smelled many times before; but she didn't look like a ninja, or Japanese... She didn't appear to be an envoy from the Shimada clan sent to force him to return home and resume his role as the future leader of the clan. She was more like… Jesse.
“Jesse?”
Elizabeth frowned, “Are you asking me if I am Jesse? Or if I know Jesse?”
He looked at her without answering her question. If he knew that name, maybe what this man was asking was if she knew Jesse.
“I am Jesse’s cousin,” Elizabeth said, feeling hope. “Do you know where he is?”
Instead of words, The man turned his back to walk toward the bushes. Seeing that the wolf, still holding her shotgun in its mouth, was following him, the white-haired woman got up from the ground, curious, and followed him.
“So?” she insisted, walking behind him.
But he did not answer and just kept walking. Like she was talking with one of the many trees in this forest full of bugs and animals. Young Calcedonia sighed resignedly. Perhaps walking like this, in silence, for who knows how long, wasn't so bad after all. She could obtain, in the worst case, information about her cousin, and in the best… She shook her head, which caught Hanzo's attention, but he didn't say anything. Bob had already warned her why getting too excited wasn't a good idea. Elizabeth knew she had to be strong and not rejoice until she saw Jesse or had proof that he was still alive.
But then, after what seemed like an eternity of walking—not very difficult, she wasn't athletic at all—she saw Jesse. He was alive, among ten wolf pups who seemed to enjoy playing with him. It was a lovely image, perfect for taking a picture, if only she had a camera and wasn't nervous about the man standing beside her, silent, carefully analyzing every millimeter of her face. Although Elizabeth didn't seem able to keep her composure any longer, she just stared at him with teary eyes, her body trembling from head to toe.
Her cousin didn't seem to have noticed their presence at first, however. The wolf that had been following them dropped her shotgun, though she didn't notice it. She wished this moment could last forever, a frozen image, just for her. The image was broken when the wolf howled softly and Jesse and the young wolf pups, tugging at his shoelaces, his jacket sleeves, and his hair, looked at them; the image shattered, they were seen, the happy spell no longer existed.
“Ashe?” Jesse called her, really confused, “what are ya doing here?”
But she did not answer, not with words. She ran to him, avoiding stepping on the wolf pups leaping through the open spaces as Jesse was looking at her, still surprised. And then she threw herself to her knees in front of him, hugging him and sobbing.
“Oh!” her cousin laughed, hugging her back. “Hey… I’m glad to see ya, Ashe.”
The stranger watched them without approaching, as if he were experiencing his own reunion. Of course, this was just for him. That vision was what he had always dreamed of having with his brother.
Though he may never have it. He's unlucky. He's alone.
“Hanzo,” Jesse called, still clutching his cousin, more focused on crying than on whatever might happen in the next few minutes. The world could explode and she wouldn't scream; everything could go to hell. “Is everything alright? Do you need help?”
“Fine.” Hanzo nodded. He said he was fine, but he did not seem to be okay.
McCree did not insist. “She is Ashe, my cousin. Ashe, say hi.”
Ashe resisted being pulled away, clinging to his arm. But she looked at Hanzo, with both gratitude and rejection. It was like mixing oil and water. Two different feelings at the same time.
“I am Elizabeth Caledonia. The firstborn of the founders of Arbalest Arms.” It wasn't clear whether she wanted to threaten or present herself appropriately. Perhaps both.
He nodded, “Hanzo.”
The young woman nodded, confused, then looked at her cousin, still confused.
“Why does he talk like that?”
“He hasn't spoken to anyone in a long time.” It seemed there was something more, a story. Jesse seemed to think long and hard about each word, looking at Hanzo, doubtful. “He's been here for years and he's lived with wolves all this time.”
She felt a little sorry for him, but it quickly passed when she saw the brown-haired man. He was here, while the city was plastered with 'wanted' posters and his uncles were worried… All because of this Japanese man.
“What if he leaves the forest? He could simply live in the city, or perhaps in the town near your parents' farm…” Elizabeth suggested, worried.
She didn't think it was safe to be with wild wolves for long, even if Hanzo seemed to have them under control. Jesse or Hanzo could get hurt. She didn't want that; she had just found her cousin.
“Can’t.” Hanzo said. Her voice sounded more like a sigh than a word, but Jesse understood him.
“His family is looking for him.”
“Okay?” She tilted her head, puzzled. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing? My parents and I are also looking for you... Dad even put up a reward for finding you! Although no one has wanted to enter the forest if you are to be found safe and sound; apparently, people prefer to shoot first and see if they found a human afterward…”
Hanzo seemed worried, although Jesse spoke quickly, wanting to avoid an argument. Hanzo didn't even really know how to do it; he would grumble and she would get really angry.
“Hanzo’s family is not like ours.” Jesse sighed, “I don't think he'd like me to give the details... But he doesn't want to be found. Those people are no good…”
“But you can’t live in the forest!” the Caledonia protested, “You have a family that loves you and cares about you... Are you going to abandon us for a boyfriend?”
“No! I could never do that…” The brown-haired man hugged her tenderly, trying to calm her down. “But he needs me too… I just need to find a balance between being with him and my family.”
But she seemed worried. She didn't know what balance could exist there.
“My father would faint just from seeing the forest.” Elizabeth protested, but couldn't help laughing. Jesse couldn't help but let a laugh escape his lips either. “Last week, a small spider got into the bathroom and almost burned it down when he saw it.”
Even Hanzo seemed to find it funny. Elizabeth thought he might even eat them when he found them in the forest. Puagh! She should not think about this.
Normality is overrated.
Where they once thought they had to choose only one world, they now knew it was like going through a door that never closed. They couldn't get into the city, and Hanzo needed his wolves and the furs on him to be safe, but soon they ended up going closer and closer to the McCree farm; although it was difficult to explain to the local hunters why they could not hunt the wolves now.
They couldn't say that Hanzo lived with wolves and that they were like family to him. The Caledonians had to hold a press conference explaining that wolves were endangered. That was a half-truth. There were never many wolves in the area; coyotes were plentiful and outnumbered the wolves. However, now the wolves were mostly eating coyotes, and both populations were stabilizing.
(...)
The white-haired woman got out of the car after kissing her parents on the cheeks. A picnic basket was in her hand.
“Are you sure about this, sweetie?” her father asked, really worried. Although he had learned to tolerate the farm —and not to faint at the sight of a spider— he still couldn't stand the woods. “We can go to the farm and wait for them to come…”
“Dad, Hanzo can't be out of the forest for long...” she explained, “He still believes his clan is searching for him... And as the leader of the wolf pack, he must protect all of them and prevent them from attacking the farm instead of the coyotes.”
He nodded, though worried. Meanwhile, Elizabeth's mother placed a hand on her husband's and smiled sweetly at him before looking at her daughter.
“Eli, tell Jesse and Hanzo they can come when they're ready.”
“Thank you, mom.”
She didn't need to go far to find them; Elizabeth smiled and made her way through the approximately fifty wolves, lovingly embracing her cousin.
“I’m glad to see you, Ashe.” Jesse said, kissing her forehead before looking at Hanzo, “Hanzo... You don't need to carry knives... Nor the bow.”
“Danger?” Hanzo asked, doubtful. Elizabeth was slowly beginning to understand it, just as Jesse already did: He asked what they would do in case of danger.
“At McCree farm, there is absolute calm, the dogs are loyal, the cows and sheep are friendly and love to be petted, and the chickens run around…” Jesse seemed to be watching that scene as he spoke, “The only problem we had was the coyotes, and thanks to the wolves, there are fewer than before and they don't come near the farm.”
Hanzo didn't seem convinced. Jesse's efforts to get his partner to go unarmed to see his parents didn't seem to be very effective. But Hanzo had a right to be wary, to not let his guard down completely; living in the forest was very difficult. Jesse was lucky the wolves were around when he joined them.
His cousin laughed, smiling while she was looking at them. “I think I've had déjà vu.”
“Shut up…!” Jesse groaned, though he couldn't help laughing. Then he looked at Hanzo lovingly, stroking his cheek; The Japanese man rubbed his face against his hand like an animal demanding more affection. “He's making an effort. He hardly growls at the dogs anymore, and he's started not bringing the wolves when we see my parents—last week he only brought two— I’m so proud of him.”
The one with ink-black hair looked at him in surprise. Despite his rough gestures and animalistic mannerisms, there were moments when he seemed fragile, vulnerable, in love. He smiled awkwardly, his tongue sticking out and his sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the trees “... Happy.”
“Me too, Hanzo. Me too.”
They didn't know if Hanzo would be able to be a normal human, but they had learned that 'being normal' wasn't the same for everyone. They were normal in their own way. And Jesse had decided that her normality and Hanzo's could go hand in hand. Together, living their love.