Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shimada Hanzo was many things, but the ones the world saw were what they expected of him. Stoic, serious, firm, direct; everything he’d been raised by the Shimada clan to be. Few had ever seen him as anything else but the heir, later oyabun; perhaps Genji was the last one still alive who had, and that was before their late teens.

So it had come as a surprise to Cole when Hanzo had, clearly against his will and severely bad tempered, gotten out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn. Not because he wanted to, but because it was expected of him. All these years later habits ingrained throughout his early life still lingered like unsettled ghosts.

Cole had promptly made it his mission to rectify this ‘horrible injustice’, and started to make it very challenging to get out of bed, to the point of physically clinging like a limpet. Never beyond the point that Hanzo could escape, not intended to make him uncomfortable, but to make it clear beyond all doubt that he was more than welcome to linger. Wanted.

Hanzo had been putting up a perfunctory fight, but had secretly been touched by his partners efforts and in the end he had given in. Even to the point that now he was comfortable to stay in bed on his own after Cole got up, stealing another half hour to himself in soft warmth until he eventually got hungry enough to get out of bed and make himself presentable. Cole being considerate enough to keep this particular struggle to himself, between them as their amusing little secret, had helped. If asked, the cowboy would only state that Hanzo was ‘doing Hanzo things’ in the morning, and everyone had been happy enough to assume that meant meditation, or katas, or whatever strict and serious exercises they imagined would make him show up later to breakfast.

But this morning he felt different. Cole had slowly gotten up and made himself ready, given Hanzo a kiss on his cheek and a soft ‘G’mornin, sweetheart.’ before he’d gone to take his turn to prepare breakfast, leaving his archer to his new, leisurely morning routine. Only Hanzo had stayed awake and spent the last fifteen minutes watching the sun slowly move across the floor. He didn’t feel that dark, gnawing guilt that had haunted him before, the one that forced him out of bed. Instead it was a new need, not to stay in the cozy warmth alone but to follow Cole. Still, getting himself presentable enough to leave their room felt like such a chore, and it had kept him curled up under the blankets for now.

“You could just go to breakfast. Everyone else has shown up in pyamas at some point or other. Lena does it all the time.” The thought didn’t feel like his own, it almost sounded like Cole’s voice, although he was certain that his gunslinger had never said anything like it. But perhaps it was a voice he now associated with gentle encouragement, and the thought was his own..
That thought made him snort and curl up more under the blankets. He looked a mess in the morning, hair and beard out of order, this pyjamas one of Cole’s horrible, very comfortable t-shirts and a pair of loose yoga pants. Slovenly. He’d never live it down if he showed up like that.

“Like what? Human?” That unexpected ‘answer’ stung a little. Mostly because it might be true. As friendly and welcoming the team were to him these days, they all saw him as he’d portrayed himself. Stoic. Serious. ..infalliable? Probably not the last, but it was one he’d been encouraged to project by the Shimada-gumi since his teens. "By the Shimada-gumi.”

He suddenly found himself standing up, his casual prosthetics hitting the floor before conscious thought, a rush of anger washing over him. No. He had fought so hard to throw off the clan’s influence, only to find himself still struggling over ten years later. There was parts he doubted he could ever entirely get rid of, but this, sleeping in, being human, was something he could do. And now there was something else too.

Again he found himself reaching without thought for his silk kimono robe, the knee-lenght, blue one Cole had bought him and Hanzo’d seldom wore even inside their rooms. The blue one with red dragons on its back, one head peering over each shoulder. Gaudy and over the top, much like the cowboy himself, but the silk was real and Hanzo loved it none the less. And now he was going to show it off over a rumpled tshirt and scruffy yoga pants, like a savage. But had he thought any of the others ‘savage’ for showing up for breakfast like this? When Genji wore his tacky Animeprint t-shirt and baggy pants..?

“Walk the earth on two feet as I do. Find value in humility, then you will find peace.”

The story he had heard as a child whispered in his mind, and he swallowed, quickly brushed his beard down and hair back with his hand before tying the belt and leaving the room before he could think better of it, the metal of his feet barely a whisper against the floors.

Genji had spent a long time after his cybernetic transformation getting used to eating food again. He had to remove his faceplate to do it, it didn’t taste the same, some more, some less, some not at all. It has been a struggle to eat, and the doctors had sometimes resorted to ‘nourishment smoothies’, which might as well have been wet paper. He had eaten them with the enthusiasm that could be expected.

But with the patience and cooking of the Shambali monks, he had finally been able to let go of his memory of food as it was before and learned to enjoy it as it was now.

And now was Cole’s fluffy pancakes, with salty bacon and butter mixed with sweet syrup, and it was glorious. As a child he might have preferred omurice, or miso soup and tamagoyaki, but these was flavours he could enjoy here and now, so enjoy them he would. His one nod to his previous breakfast habits was a cup of green tea, and he took a break in his ravaging of his plate to pick it up. Which might have been as well, because he’d rather nearly inhale a sip of tea instead of choke on pancakes.

He’d spotted Hanzo hovering at the door, his brother’s expression one of trepidation, and his appearance.. Scruffy didn’t begin to cover it. He couldn’t remember ever having seen his older, serious brother looking so unkept since they were children, and probably not to this level even then. Hair and beard still somewhat ruffled even if there seemed to have been some kind of effort to brush it back, a worn tshirt clearly not his (was that a horse in a cowboy hat?), and …yoga pants?! The gaudy silk kimono robe seemed almost an afterthought, barely worth notice in the big scheme of things. It was what he might have expected if he’d woken his brother up in the middle of the night, and probably not even then.

As the room grew quiet and everyone looked over towards the door, Hanzo seemed to make up his mind; his expression still a little tense as he made his way on over to Cole, who looked like someone had slapped him with a fish. A slap that obviously made him happy if one was to notice the cowboy’s growing grin, but a slap none the less, and Genji would like to not examine that thought any further.

But once the initial moment of shock faded, Genji felt an odd wave of relief. His brother had joined the team for breakfast, not as he thought he had to appear, but perhaps even more relaxed than he had ever been with their family growing up. Hesitant, obviously worried about rejection, but clearly ready to show himself for the first time since he’d arrived.

He hadn’t expected just about everyone to still be there, but it seemed that Cole’s pancakes had drawn them out of hibernation, including Genji.. Hanzo hesitated at the door, suddenly uncertain. Who was he to show up as anything but his best, to act like he could just pretend he was like the others, like he was free to act… He realised that he was the focus of the shocked scrutiny of the team, and nearly fled then and there.

Then he caught sight of Cole, and the look of joy on his face, joy that he’d shown up. Not as the always perfect heir, with every hair in place and dressed accordingly. Just him like this, Hanzo, and that gave him a moment of comfort. Enough that he could get moving again and claim his seat next to his partner, offering a brief bow of his head to the table in greeting. “Good morning. My apologies for being late.” Then, he glanced over to Cole and most of his uncertainty faded to leave a brief smile. “I hope you made more pancakes, Gunslinger?”

“I’ve got you, Archer.” Cole replied, catching on and replying in kind with the petname he knew Hanzo preferred in public. The cowboy’s grin softened as he moved to stand, and he pressed a brief, light kiss to Hanzo’s hair as he did. There were limits to Cole’s ability to keep himself discrete in his affections, and Hanzo would easily suffer such small displays for the joy of his cowboy.

Hanzo knew there were always more pancakes in the kitchen, waiting for him to show up later, but it had given him an excuse to redirect his attention from the table, and give them time to snap out of it. He hoped. Turning back, it did seem that most of them had moved on, the light chatter around the table picking up again as there were still pancakes to devour on most plates. There were a few glances when they thought themselves unnoticed, but it seemed curious, not malicious. Nothing like the hidden smirks and cruel disdain he could have expected in his past, but a bright smile here and there, a nod from others. It felt surreal, in a way.

From across the table, Genji offered Hanzo a smile. “Ohayo, Hanzo. Would you like some tea?”

A small feeling of relief washed through him, as he found himself smiling in return. “Ohayo, Genji. Please, that would be very kind of you.”

“The Dragon knelt upon the ground. For the first time he was able to clearly see the world around him and he became human.”